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 contact me at my home address: paradegi@rogers.com
The Boys Of Aurora - Chapter 33
Thumper did not hear Phantom's remark about Amy Jensen. He was in much too euphoric a mood to pay the least attention to his surroundings, to Cory, Sean or Matt, who pretended not to notice the bulge in his shorts when he passed by on his way to bed. Thumper stripped off his shorts and gunshirt, crawled under the sheet, and lay on his back, his semi-erect penis making a definite mound in the white cotton covering his body. He sighed contentedly. It would soon be lights out and then he could repair into the heads and relive the memory of tonight. Thumper shuddered with anticipation as the images filled his mind . . .
Thumper and Two Strokes had sat well back from the main party, not from any sense of exclusiveness, but with a desire to keep the knowledge of the beer that The Phantom had managed to smuggle onto the beach contained to as few people as possible.
Thumper, who was nursing his second beer, was feeling mellow. Two Strokes, who would have preferred a stiff shot of rum, was bored. He watched the assembled cadets closer down the beach for a while, and then told Thumper that he'd be heading off.
"Why?" asked Thumper. He nodded toward the small covey of girls from Highland High School who were standing close to the buffet table, giggling and ogling Killian and Glenn Beuscher. "I see your old girlfriend is back."
"Fuck her!" snarled Two Strokes.
"You did," reminded Thumper. "Last year, not ten yards from where we're sitting."
Two Strokes snorted in disgust. "Trust me, Thump, it was not all it was cracked up to be!"
Giggling, Thumper recalled that last summer, at the end of year banyan, Roger Home had gained an uncertain notoriety and his nickname of Two Strokes when he had gone strolling in the moonlight with one of the serving wenches from the High School. "Well, at least you got your end wet! You're the only guy I know who has actually fucked a girl!"
"Well, lucky me!" replied Two Strokes with a sneer. "I'd have been better off with my pillow!"
Thumper, who was drinking his beer at the time, almost choked. He coughed as the beer went down the wrong pipe. Two Strokes slapped him on the back until he had regained his composure. "God damn it, Roger!" snarled Thumper.
"Sorry, Thump, but it's the truth. I mean, every time we talk about sex, we talk about getting laid and every time the guys who have been laid - or at least claim they have - say that it's the most wonderful thing in the world! Which it wasn't!"
Thumper, recovered, reached out and gave his friend a sympathetic pat. "You couldn't help what happened, Roger. It was your first time, and the excitement of the moment."
Two Strokes grimaced. "Excitement my ass. I shot my load in two strokes and nobody has let me forget it!"
Taking a sip of his beer, Thumper eyed Two Strokes. "Roger, do you have a hair trigger? I don't mean to pry, but hell, even after I beat off three or four times a day I still have to pump a dozen or so times . . ."
Two Strokes gave Thumper a black look. "Thumper, I am not interested in how many times you beat off or how many strokes it takes you to nut!"
"Mind you, the one time I wanted to linger I shot my load in record time!" replied Thumper, totally ignoring Two Strokes' admonition. "Of course, it was my own fault." He burped loudly and then lay back on the sand. He put his hands behind his head and stared up into the bright, moon lit sky. "I'd beaten off four times that day and the head of my dick was so sensitive that . . ."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Two Strokes gave Thumper a sharp punch on the arm. "I told you, I am not interested in your sex life!"
Thumper looked into Two Strokes' eyes. And smiled. He was remembering the night that a stranger had come into the Gunroom and performed an act so extraordinarily fucking wonderful that he still beat off happily at the memory of it. His smile turned to a frown. Once! He'd had one blow job and the guy, the son of a bitch, had never come back!
"What?" asked Two Strokes seeing the look on Thumper's face.
Thumper shrugged. "You said that you weren't interested, so forget it."
"Oh, no, you started this conversation. You're . . ."
"Going for another beer. Want one?" Thumper stood up and hurried off, not waiting for Two Strokes to answer. He fetched back two cans of beer and handed one to Two Strokes. "Here."
Two Strokes nodded his thanks and watched Thumper as he sat down and stared off into space. "You going to tell me what you're on about?" he asked.
"It's not important," replied Thumper. It wasn't important. Two Strokes did not need to know about that night of nights. Still . . . "We've been friends a long time, Roger. All I was doing was sympathizing with you. I know you don't like it when the guys kid you about boffing that bimbo."
"I don't," confirmed Two Strokes, his voice harsh. "And you must be getting fed up with being called Thumper."
"They could call me worse things," replied Thumper. He grinned softly. "In a way I suppose it's a compliment." He regarded Two Strokes a moment. "Let's face it, I do thump my bone a lot. At least the guys kid me about it. They could make my life miserable, you know."
Two Strokes agreed that Thumper's life could be worse.
They sat quietly together, listening to the music blaring from the stereo system and watching the cadets dancing to a wild beat. From time to time Two Strokes chuckled at the antics of his friends as they jumped and bounced.
"I could never do that," said Thumper presently as he watched Chad doing a fair imitation of what looked like a Zulu in full war cry.
"What? Dance with Chad?"
Thumper sniggered. "Nah. He's not my type. I meant jumping up and down like that."
"It's called dancing, Thump. You know, a guy and girl . . ."
Thumper chugged his beer and belched explosively. He ignored his friend's look of disgust and said, "When I dance I like to be within at least five feet of the person I'm dancing with. Want another beer?"
Two Strokes shook his head. "No. I've had enough. We still have to get up at 0600 and help the younger kids get their shit together. Just about everybody is leaving tomorrow, or have you forgotten?"
Thumper sighed sadly. "I haven't forgotten. I've been kind of avoiding it because that means in two weeks I'll be going home and while I want to go home, for some reason I don't want to get on that plane. I miss my folks, and my brothers, and my friends back home, yet I can't help thinking that this year has been, well, special. It's like the Admiral said this morning, you know, guys bonding."
"You're right. This year has been special. I'm glad I came out here. I'm glad I went on the sailing trip," replied Two Strokes with a smile.
"Thanks for Monday night, Roger," said Thumper. "And for letting me look at your album."
"Monday Fred and I chucked shit at you. As for the album . . ."
"Two Strokes, we've known each other for what, 3 years? We're both in the Regulating Branch and we've both shared a mess deck before, yet you never actually treated me like a buddy. Before last year I was just Tom Vernon. Nobody knew who I was. Now, they call me Thumper and everybody knows who I am. Monday night for the first time you made me feel like I was your friend. I appreciate that. It's not easy being a Crusher and . . ."
"Don't go getting all mushy on me," snapped Two Strokes. He actually did like Thumper who, while he was a bit goofy, was a good cadet, and a better messmate. He stood up and brushed the sand off the seat of his shorts. "I think I'll head back to the barn."
Thumper joined him. "You're not going to hang around and try your luck?" He nodded toward a small group of girls sitting at one of the tables, chatting. "You never know . . ."
Two Strokes laughed and shook his head. "Thumper, do you really think that after last year I'd go back for a rematch? Hell, Thump, all I want to do is to forget it ever happened." Then he gestured at The Gunner and Dave Eddy, who seemed to be walking some sort of a patrol along the water's edge. "Besides, we're AURORA boys. We came here as virgins and we are damned sure going home the same way. The guard is out tonight, Thump. You'd have a better chance with your right hand than with one of the girls."
"That's as may be," replied Thumper as both boys began walking down the beach. "You can say that. You're not a virgin like most of the other guys . . ."
"I'm the only non-virgin!" interrupted Two Strokes. "I'm also the only guy who got his dick wet in the entire history of AURORA!"
Thumper chuckled. "Yeah, I guess you are. It's too bad she was such a lousy fuck." He laughed harder. "But, hey, maybe if you make nice to her she'll give you a blow job!"
"As if anybody who's done nothing but beat his meat umpteen times a day for years would know anything about blow jobs!" replied Two Strokes, his voice dripping with scorn.
Thumper smiled a secret, wicked, grin. "Oh, I know more than you think, Roger Home," he thought. Then he thought, "What the hell, why not." He gave Two Strokes a hard punch on his shoulder. "I know more than you do about blow jobs!"
Once again Two Strokes snorted in derision. He kept walking, leaving the swimming beach behind and following the path between the buildings and the shore. "Yeah, right. Old Tom Vernon, Thumper to his friends, knows all about blow jobs."
Thumper, who was trailing his friend, called out softly, "He does about one."
Two Strokes stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and stared at Thumper. "Are you . . . I mean, YOU?"
Thumper, a smug and triumphant look on his face, strolled past the stunned Two Strokes. "I did indeed, and Roger, I want to remember every moment of it."
Thumper was well past Barracks 4 before Two Strokes recovered from his shock and chased after him. "You actually got a blow job?" he asked incredulously when he caught up with his friend.
"Yes."
"Here?"
"Of course here! Where else have I been for the past two months?"
Two Strokes' jaw dropped as he digested this bit of information. "But that means . . ." He shook his head rapidly. "It can't be. Not here! There's only cadets here which means that one of them gave you a blow job!"
"It wasn't Todd's phantom Spaniard going around collecting my essence," returned Thumper acidly, recalling the night when Todd was searching for information of the mysterious phantom cadet who was going around collecting essence (not that either Thumper or Two Strokes knew what Todd was doing). "And, unless Madame Ada has a branch office in Comox with an out-call service for Sea Cadets, which she hasn't, even in Halifax, yeah, it means exactly what you think it means."
"But, Thumper . . . Tom . . . you . . . you let a guy suck your dick!" Two Strokes was appalled. Thumper! Of all the cadets!
"Considering what he was doing to my dick at the time I wasn't going to ask him to cease and desist," replied Thumper, completely at ease. "And before you ask I have no idea who he was. He had a black ski mask over his head and I was not about to suggest that he stop so that we could properly introduce ourselves."
Two Strokes muttered and mumbled under his breath, still not quite believing that Thumper had . . . As they drew abreast of the Boatswains Barracks he stopped and looked at Thumper. "You don't think that's kind of . . . queer?"
"If you ain't tried it, don't knock it," replied Thumper with a nonchalant grin. He saw the look on Two Strokes' face and a light seemed to come on in his head. "You've never had a blow job! You've never had sex, except for that one time last year!" He started to laugh. "Well, I will be damned."
"My sex life has nothing to do with you getting a blow job!"
Rather than pursue the matter Thumper decided to keep quiet. He'd had his dick sucked, Two Strokes hadn't, and that was that. They walked on in complete silence until they were almost back to the their barracks. Much to Thumper's surprise, Two Strokes blurted out, "So, what was it like?"
Thumper looked quizzically at his companion. Now why would Two Strokes care how a blow job felt? Thumper was actually surprised that Two Strokes hadn't gone off like a rocket. He was, after all, notorious for his comments about gays and their so-called lifestyle. Admittedly, Roger had been awfully quiet ever since he'd come back from the sailing expedition. "It was a hell of a lot better than what you got," Thumper said heavily. "And a hell of a lot better than you're ever going to get," he thought.
"Come on, Thumper, what was it like?" asked Two Strokes with unaccustomed curiosity.
"It was good, okay? I liked it, okay? That's all you need to know. And if that's 'queer' to you, then too bad. I got my dick sucked and if the guy came back again tonight I'd let him suck it again!" He pulled away from Two Strokes and walked on. "And don't even think about spouting some redneck bullshit. I'm not gay but I've had sex with another guy. Case closed," he finished.
When Two Strokes caught up with Thumper he put his hand on Thumper's shoulder. Thumper slowed to a walking pace and waited. "I . . . I had sex with a guy, too," said Two Strokes hesitatingly.
Thumper wheeled and a grin spread across his face. "You didn't! Not you, not straight-laced, I'd-rather-die-than-be-with-a-guy Roger Home! Hot damn, he must have been some special guy for you to do whatever it was you did with him!"
"It was . . ." Two Strokes stopped speaking. He would not name names. "Yeah, he was, and is, very special and ever since . . . God damn it, Thumper, I can't get it out of my mind! I wasn't supposed to like what I did, but . . . FUCK!"
"You did like it, though," said Thumper quietly. He took Two Strokes' hand and led him into the shadows of the trees. "I know how you must have felt. I got the same tired old warnings about guys doing guys as you did. Like I said, I'm not queer, but I sure did like waking up with my dick in the guy's mouth. The feeling was so intense, so fucking intense that . . ." He laughed ruefully. "I wish he'd given me some warning because I woke up and here was this guy doing the number on me! I was so surprised I sat up just as I started to cum and Jesus, I think I almost gave him a heart attack! Not that I was bothered about that at the time 'cause I was blowing a load like I had never blown before in my life! Jesus, Jesus, it took me an hour to come down! I swear to God, Roger, it was the most incredible thing that has ever happened to me!"
"And you never found out who . . .?"
Thumper shook his head, his eyes sad. "I never did. I wish I knew because . . ." He shrugged. "Roger, I lay awake at nights waiting for him to come back. I prayed for him to come back. But he never did."
"In a way, you're lucky," replied Two Strokes. He laughed quietly. "If I tell you what happened, you promise that you won't tell?"
Thumper almost laughed in Two Strokes' face. "Roger, I just told you the deepest secret of my whole life. You are the only one I've told, and the only one I will ever tell! Now, do you really expect me to blab that all over the ship?"
"I see your point."
"Good. We're buddies. I would never tell on a buddy, okay?"
Without speaking Two Strokes pushed through the scrub and bushes and stood on the beach. The tide was ebbing and the beach was wet. He stood staring out into Comox Harbour. "When we were on the sailing trip, I did something I never thought I would do," he began in an emotionless voice. "You know the basics of what happened. We sailed, the Twins jumped overboard, we all got naked?"
Thumper nodded. "I saw the pictures in the album."
Two Strokes squatted down and rested his arms on his knees. "The first night we all, when we went to bed, paired off. There was no pattern about it, no reason why we bedded down the way we did. We just did."
Thumper squatted down to face him. "So you slept next to another guy. Big deal."
Two Strokes gave Thumper a long stare. "Thump, we were naked! Have you ever slept next to another guy naked? Do you know what happens when you do?"
Thumper thought a moment. "No, and no." He grinned slyly. "But I figure you got a world-class boner, didn't you?"
"Thanks for the 'world-class', Thump, but yeah, I got a boner."
"It happens," replied Thumper with a shrug. "When I sleep with my brothers, I usually end up with a hard. It's no big deal."
"It is if you end up with your 'hard' pressed into the crack of your brother's ass and your arms around him!"
"Two Strokes, you didn't!"
"Two Strokes, I did!" Two Strokes stood up and ran his fingers through his short hair. "I was dreaming, I think, and I was rubbing my dick up this poor guy's crack. When I woke up, it felt so good, and I was so close to blowing, well, I just kept doing it."
"You didn't squirt, I mean you didn't . . . not in his butt crack?"
Two Strokes shook his head firmly. "No! I rolled away and shot onto the sand."
"You came?"
"Big time. So big time that the next night, I did it again."
"Holy fuck!"
"Yeah, holy fuck!"
Thumper shook his head. "Did . . . did the guy know you fucked him?"
"I did not fuck him!" returned Two Strokes with some heat. "I rubbed myself off against him." He started to chuckle. "Fool that I am, I thought he was asleep. He wasn't and please, don't say 'holy fuck!'"
Thumper grinned. Well, well, well. Ol' Roger got his rocks off with a GUY! "Was he, the other guy, was he mad?" he asked.
A strange look came over Two Strokes' face as he said, quietly, "A little. But, like he said, it's happened before, and will happen again. I'm not the first guy it has happened to. He was . . . really understanding and, well, I had treated him badly before this happened. We talked about it and . . . some other things and . . ."
"You talked to him? You talked to him and he didn't beat the crap out of you?" Thumper was flabbergasted.
"No, he didn't," confirmed Two Strokes. "In fact, I . . . well, I kissed him. We're good friends now and I'm sorry I was such an asshole. I've said some terrible things to a lot of perfectly nice people."
Thumper looked up at his friend and nodded. "You were almost as bad as Little Big Man, Two Strokes."
Two Strokes was close to tears. "I know, Thumper, damn it! I . . ." he held his face in his hands. "I was such an asshole!"
Thumper did not reply. Still crouching he reached up and before Two Strokes could protest his blue shorts and white briefs were around his ankles. Thumper leaned forward and took Two Strokes' smooth, soft dick into his mouth and began to suck gently.
Two Strokes dropped his hands and his eyes flew open. "What . . . THUMPER . . . I . . . don' . . .THUMPER!" He could not help himself. His entire erection, all five hard inches of it, was enclosed by the warm wetness of Thumper's mouth. Thumper's tongue was lovingly caressing his velvet glans, searching, and then finding the secret spot. Two Strokes began to thrust, in short, sharp jabs. He could feel Thumper's hands caressing and pulling on his balls. He began to moan loudly as feelings of such ecstasy as he had never felt before raged through him. He reached out and his hands found Thumper's head and he began running his fingers lightly through the boy's soft hair. His mind raced, barely able to comprehend the feelings that slammed him unmercifully. He could feel his balls tightening and could feel the heat and suddenly he . . .
Two Strokes pushed his hips forward, and then tried to pull away. "Tom . . . I'm gonna CUM!" he yelped. "Tom . . ."
Thumper made no reply. His hands left Two Strokes' balls and he reached around, his fingers digging into the hard flesh of the boy's ass, pulling him closer and burying the hard shaft deep within his throat. He could feel the soft, curly hair at the base of Two Strokes' cock tickling his nose. Thumper could feel Two Stokes' organ expanding and he pulled back, sucking the hot, throbbing glans. He drank in the sweet, warm scent of Two Strokes and sucked deeper and deeper, his tongue ravaging the gently curving underside of Two Strokes' dick. He felt Two Strokes convulse and a stream of hot, thick semen filled his mouth. Thumper swallowed rapidly, wanting to taste, to devour every drop of the liquid of his friend.
Two Strokes could feel his dick jerking in the warm wetness, could feel it pulse as a huge stream ejected from the slit of his mushroom. He threw his head back and deep within him a low growl grew and flew from his throat. His body stiffened and he was so engulfed with what he felt that he lost consciousness, falling forward, his body covering Thumper's.
Thumper continued to suck, ignoring Two Strokes' heavy weight, clutching Two Strokes' quivering body, refusing to release him until his penis softened.
Two Strokes rolled away and lay on the cool, damp sand. His eyes popped open and he stared into the dark, star-dotted sky. His chest was heaving and his entire body was shaking, consumed still with the fantastic pleasures Thumper had given him. He felt as if he were floating on air. His dick and balls were aching with an unexplained, glorious ache. He felt soft lips touch his forehead gently and he was barely conscious as he sensed more than felt Thumper moving away from him.
Eventually the euphoric bliss of his first blow job drained from Two Strokes' body. He sat up quickly and immediately felt dizzy. He shook his head, clearing it, and looked around. Thumper was gone. He looked down and saw that his shorts and underpants were still around his ankles. His dick was soft, and seemed to be glistening in the pale light from the moon. He stumbled upright and pulled up his clothing. He began to walk slowly back to the Gunroom, unconsciously rubbing himself, sending new waves of delight through his crotch.
After a hurried pit stop in the washplace, where he washed away the sticky evidence of his communion with The Phantom, Todd entered the Gunroom where he found Cory, Matt and Sean playing a loud and profane game of stud poker. Both Matt and Sean were losing - they were playing for pennies - and accusing Cory of doing nasty things with the cards. What they did not know was that Cory had the "Leveson Luck". He rarely lost at cards. Todd, on the other hand, suffered from the "Arundel Curse". It was legend in his family that the only time he had ever been to a racecourse and essayed a flutter on one of the nags, the horse he bet on had suffered a fatal cardiac seizure and never left the starting gate, collapsing in a heap before it had taken so much as a step. Todd therefore never gambled, even for pennies.
Cory saw Todd enter and grinned at him and pointed to the small pile of pennies in front of him. "Two suckers on tap," he crowed, as if the pennies were gold sovereigns. "When I'm hot I'm hot!"
Todd laughed and gave his brother a warm hug. Then he kissed him on the forehead. "You're always hot, damn you."
Cory waggled his eyes at Sean, who blushed. "Too bad I'm confined to barracks, Sean. I could light a fire under you!"
"You should be confined, and not to barracks!" retorted Sean. He gave Todd a pleading look. "Sit in, Todd. You can change the fall of the cards."
Todd grinned. "He's winning, I take it?" he asked as he did a most uncharacteristic thing. He sat beside Matt and put his arm around the boy's shoulder. "I never gamble."
Matt allowed the embrace. He was surprised at the sudden fit of affection but was not going to refuse it, deciding to enjoy the warmth of Todd's body next to his while it lasted. Harry would return soon enough. "Cory is winning, and I'm down 14 cents," complained Matt, giving Cory a dark look. "He's won damned near every pot!"
"You sit in, Phantom," said Sean. "We need some new blood."
The Phantom laughed and dug into his pocket for what loose change he had. "I have 60 cents." He elbowed his way onto the bench and sat on the other side of Matt. "Deal me in."
They spent the next hour or so bickering, arguing, snapping at each other and accusing Cory of cheating, or at least doing something with the cards. Jon and Chris drifted in and undressed. They sat on the end of their bunks in their underpants and joined in the general condemnation when Cory won yet another hand. Nicholas, who had seen a very happy Andre back to his barracks, entered the Gunroom with a look of serene bliss on his face. Stripping to his shorts he cast a grateful nod toward The Phantom as he headed into the washplace. The Phantom smiled and looked back at his cards.
Harry came in, laughing like a loon and demanding to know where Two Strokes was.
"Ask Thumper," advised Cory. He looked at the assembled card players. "I raise two cents."
Harry bellowed, "Thumper, where's Two Strokes?"
Thumper pulled the covers from over his head. "I don't know," he lied. He had left Two Strokes, spent and all but unconscious, lying on the beach, and was not about to broadcast that little bit of information. "Why do you want him?"
"That Louise critter is spreading it all over the ship. Two Strokes has a brother!"
The other boys stared at Harry, who was grinning widely. "A brother?" asked The Phantom.
Harry fell on his bunk roaring and shaking with laughter. "Yeah, his brother No Strokes!" The boys looked at each other and then at Harry. They had no idea what he was talking about but it sounded interesting. Harry saw their looks. "Phil Thornton!"
"What about him? The last time I saw him he was off into the jungle with Louise," said The Phantom.
"Oh, he got off all right," replied Harry laughing hard and clutching his sides. "According to Miss Louise ol' Phil had trouble finding the right hole."
"Why, no hair around it?" asked Todd sourly, not really in the mood to listen to any tales of priapic disaster.
Harry calmed down as much as he ever did. "I guess not 'cause she reached out and grabbed his ol' John Henry and it spit at her!"
Sean's mouth dropped. "You mean he . . .?"
"Yep, a real Mrs. Murphy moment," chortled Harry.
"A what?" asked Matt, who was, in some ways, a very innocent cadet.
Cory grinned at Todd, who grinned at The Phantom, who grinned at Todd. Suddenly all three of them were singing. "Will you hold it in your hand, Mrs. Murphy, for it only weighs a quarter of a pound; its got hair around its neck just like a turkey, and it squirts when you rub it up and down!"
Matt giggled so much he fell off the bench. Sean bent down and helped Matt up and then looked at Cory, a slight smile playing on his lips. "A verse of The Red River Valley I have not heard before."
When the gales of laughter subsided Harry assumed a sombre air. "She was some hostile, just a-spittin' tacks. Then she started giving me a come hither look so I took off and came back here."
Cory was about to say something about it being about time the Pride sailed into foreign ports but thought better of it. Antagonizing Harry could be injurious to his health, or at least his behind. Being bitten on his bum by a crazy, 6 foot, 1-inch, 180-pound Manitoban was not very high on his list of things to do. Fortunately for the sake of Cory's gluteus maximus Harry was on a roll. "And of course, 'Salvo' Beuscher covered himself with glory," he said with a lewd grin.
"Really? Looked like cum from where I was standing," returned The Phantom dryly. "Cory, you're cheating."
Todd saved Matt from falling off the bench this time and Sean looked stricken. Jon and Chris collapsed in giggling and Cory made a snorting noise while he palmed an ace.
"What are they doing, working their way through my NCOs?" asked Sean, shocked.
"Naw, just anything with a dick," opined The Phantom as he threw in his cards. "Killian got a dry rub and a dirty great stain on the inside of his Jockeys." He glared at Cory. "Will somebody call him?"
Nobody did and Cory's two pairs won the meagre pot. He passed the cards to The Phantom who declared dealer's choice: draw two, jacks or better to open. Before dealing he asked Harry if he wanted to play. Harry declined and, looking directly at Todd, suggested that they go looking for Two Strokes.
"By way of the School of Wind?" thought The Phantom, Cory and Matt.
"I'm confined to barracks," said Todd firmly. "Two Strokes will come home when he's ready."
Harry saw the looks on the faces of the other boys. Three of them knew exactly what lay behind his invitation to Todd. He shrugged and turned to rearrange the contents of his locker.
Returning from his quick shower Nicholas was corralled into the poker game. Harry, stewing in his disappointment over Todd's refusal to join him in the School of Wind, stripped off and went to take a shower. Nathan, who had just arrived with a smug look on his face, turned and walked a self-satisfied and jaunty step as he followed Harry into the washplace.
"He looks like the cat that's swallowed the canary," grumbled Matt as Nathan disappeared into the washplace.
"He swallowed a bird, and it wasn't a canary," rejoined Cory with a snicker.
"It would appear that a belly full of Eion Reilly appeals to him," said The Phantom with an evil leer. "All that protein, you know."
Sean's eyes were as big as saucers. He was not so much upset at the scatological or homo-erotic bantering that seemed to be a part of every all male society as he was with the fact that thus far most of the names named were of cadets from his squadron. "Is there any one of my guys who didn't get sucked, fucked, rubbed, groped or stroked tonight?"
"It depends on whether or not Amy, Louise and Kathy are still around," replied The Phantom. He passed the cards to Nicholas to deal. "With those three you have to be a Sea Puppy, or dead, to be really safe."
"You forgot Nathan," said Matt as he scanned the hand he had been dealt. He grimaced. Jesus, Nicholas was as bad as Cory.
"And Greg," supplied Todd who joined Matt in grimacing at the cards. "He and Jimmy Collyer are supposed to be in the Ship's Office finalizing the paperwork for tomorrow's Pay Parade."
"Well, all I can say is that Jimmy and Phillip had better be on the Jetty at 0600 tomorrow or there will be hell to pay. Their YAG is Ready Duty Boat," growled Sean. He threw his cards into the discard pile.
Cory won again and Matt picked up the cards. "Five card, draw two, two cents ante," he said as he shuffled the cards. Everybody put their money in the pot as Matt shuffled the deck and dealt out the cards. Cory, who had drawn three kings, opened with two cents. The others called his bet and Matt dealt the draw. Cory smiled wickedly and pushed five pennies forward. "Nobody loves a coward," he said with a grin. "So, I bet . . ."
A tremendous roar set the rafters to shaking. "CORY!"
Cory jumped and dropped his cards onto the table, revealing his hand of three kings and a pair of treys. "WHAT?" he yelped and turned to see Val staring at him, his hands on his hips. "What . . . wha' . . .?"
"I owe you something!" bellowed Val. Before Cory could move Val was on him. He picked the slim boy up, stared into his eyes then bent Cory backward, holding him close. Cory froze, wondering what in hell he had done and tried to struggle out of Val's iron grip. For a little fucker Val was very strong. Almost before Cory knew it Val was giving him the deepest, wettest, down-the-throat kiss he had ever received.
The other boys, including Harry and Nathan who had come rushing from the showers, stared as Val continued to kiss Cory, who stopped his struggling and enjoyed the moment. It was, he figured, a hell of a lot better than being bitten on the bum. "What did I do to deserve that?" asked Cory breathlessly when Val finally released him.
Val pretended to dust Cory off, gave his dick a slight squeeze and hugged him. "That was for giving me the second most beautiful thing in my life!" he said with a wide grin.
"The second? What's the first?" asked Sean as he tried to recover from the shock of seeing his lover being manhandled by the Cadet Chief Gunnery Instructor.
Val's eyes slid toward Tyler, who had been behind him when he came into the Gunroom and decided to molest Cory. Tyler saw Val's look, and saw Sean staring at him and blushed.
"The second most beautiful thing in my life is that look stick!" exclaimed Val. "God, Cory, it's . . . it's . . ." He could not begin to describe the beauty of the telescope he'd won.
"What's the first most beautiful thing in his life?" repeated Sean, who was not aware that Val and Tyler had become lovers.
Cory gave Sean a "belt-up-and-play-cards" look. Then he grinned and winked, his eyes sliding over to where Tyler was standing. Sean's eyes widened at the implications of Cory's look and then quickly pretended to pay attention to his cards.
The Phantom, who had seen the exchange of looks between Cory and Sean, said nothing. He was not about to betray secrets. When Tyler and Val were ready to come out, they would do so. He could not, however, stop from allowing his eyes to slide down the slim, trim, coppery-haired Master at Arms' muscular form, recalling fondly as he did so the times he had visited Tyler in the dark of night. The Phantom sighed inwardly. Tyler was a very handsome young man.
A slight movement in the doorway leading from the heads and washplace caught The Phantom's eye. He saw Harry and Nathan, who had come running from the showers when Val roared, standing side by each, looks of confusion on their face. They were dripping water all over the tiled deck. Then The Phantom saw a hand slip between the boys' spread legs and squeeze the Pride and the Escorts as well as Nathan's not insubstantial danglies.
Nathan squealed and Harry let out a bellow, so loud that all the other cadets jumped. Cards and pennies seemed to fly in all directions as Harry jumped around cupping his parts and swearing.
Tony grinned and held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. "I touched it! I touched the Pride!" He and Mark had come into the barracks just as Val was molesting Cory and seen the two naked boys standing in the doorway. He could not resist a quick grope. He looked at Nathan with a sad look on his face. "You're going to have to do some growing, boy, if you want to compete with the Pride!"
Harry, his initial shock over the assault on the Pride and its Escorts draining, was mollified by Tony's remarks. Gently lifting his crown jewels and nodding sagely in agreement to Tony's declaration, he ponderously intoned, "You are blessed!" He gently rubbed the perfect head of the Pride. "The Pride is unique," he intoned seriously. "The Pride should have been given a medal today!"
Cory snickered, raised his eyes to the rafters overhead and then growled caustically, "Only if I could be the one to pin it on!"
Harry winced and the others weighed in.
"How about if we just tie a ribbon around it?" asked Mark sarcastically.
"We could have it bronzed," suggested The Phantom. "Or perhaps make a mould of it." He nudged Matt. "Didn't you say that there were some bags of concrete in Stores?"
"Yeah, two bags of mortar mix. That should be enough to make a mould of the Pride, seeing how big it is," replied Matt, his quick mind and schoolboy wit picking up on The Phantom's suggestion.
Harry looked at the others and reddened. "Concrete? You'd put the Pride in concrete?" He started to back away, still cupping the Pride and the Escorts.
"Sure," said Cory with a huge wink at The Phantom. "We could mix up a batch and when it hardened we'd pull it off. I think it would make a terrific mould. We could then fill the mould with what? Plastic I suppose." He was enjoying himself for he'd grown a little jaded from hearing Harry going on about his damned dick. "We could make a mint by selling copies of your dick, Harry. We'd even cut you in for a piece of the action."
"That's all I would have left - a piece!" howled Harry. "You guys wouldn't . . . you couldn't . . ." He continued drawing back, heading for his locker.
"Well, it might be a struggle getting the mould off," said Todd with a grin. "We might have to use a hammer and chisel but if we are very careful The Pride would only have a nick or two!"
Harry's looked screamed "TRAITOR" at Todd. He quickly pulled on a pair of white briefs, then a pair of tartan boxers, and then a pair of sweat pants. "You bastards would do it, too!" he accused loudly. He got into bed and all but cocooned himself with his sheets and coverlet. "After all I've done for you guys, after all the years we've been friends and messmates, you'd do that to the Pride!" He pulled the covers over his head, then lowered them. He glared at the other cadets. "I'm sleeping with one eye open and if one of you fuckers comes near me there will a fresh crop of eunuchs in the morning!"
The card players returned to the game, Mark and Tony retrieved the key to Cabin 5 from Nicholas, Jon and Chris slipped under the covers and Nathan, after putting on some shorts, sat on Todd's bunk and kibitzed as the other cadets bickered and snarled through another hand of poker. Shortly before midnight Fred came in and announced that the party, at last, was over and that the young ladies had departed.
"Did anybody else get lucky?" asked Todd as he shook his head at the hand Matt was showing him. He pointed to one of the cards and grimaced. Matt took the hint and discarded it.
Fred, who was aware that there was a pair of eyes on him, slowly stripped off his gunshirt, and then unbuckled the belt of his bell-bottoms. "I don't think so," he said as he slowly lowered his trousers and deliberately pushed down his boxer underwear to just below his pubic bush. He glanced quickly across the mess table and confirmed that Nathan was giving him the once over. "One of the girls was hooting about cadets being useless and not worth a damn. She said it was a shame that a guy with an eight-inch dick couldn't hold his balls back 'cause he shot like a race horse before he got it in!" He plumped his pillow and sat on his bunk with his back against the bulkhead.
"That would be Phil Thornton," said Cory. "Boy never did have any staying power." He snickered and glanced at Nathan, who seemed to be engrossed in something on the other side of the Gunroom. Cory had a fairly good idea just what was holding the American's attention for he'd seen Fred's pride and joy.
"And how would you know about Phil's staying power?" asked Todd, an angry look on his face. He felt Matt's hand brush his thigh and looked at the boy who shook his head. "Not that it's any of my business," he continued on hastily.
"I have my ways," replied Cory calmly. He threw in his cards. "It's getting late, guys." He was not about to tell his brother that the closest he'd been to Phil Thornton's dick was during a regatta when they had showered together. As for Phil's staying power it was rumoured that he had a hair-trigger, which if Todd had paid any attention to the sexual gossip that was always floating around the ship, he'd know. Cory got up and began undressing. The other cadets pretended not to notice that he was not wearing anything under his gym shorts.
While Cory padded off to the showers, Fred continued his seduction of Nathan, who had not taken his eyes off of Fred's crotch. Fred slowly raised his left leg, which caused the leg of his boxers to ride up, revealing his long, thin penis and hefty set of balls. He had not had such fun since he'd seduced Peckinham, his roommate in that dreadful school back in England that his parents had stuck him in.
Todd thought he heard a low moan from behind him but paid no attention. He was more interested in the fresh scratch marks on Greg's back. He'd come into the Gunroom just as Cory was heading for the showers, and stripped off without a word. Matt saw where Todd was looking and raised his eyebrows, and made a mental note never to have sex with Jimmy Collyer. He glanced over to Fred and saw the Crusher's circumcised weapon looking back at him. His eyes widened. Todd snickered and opened his hands, about eight or nine inches, if Matt was any judge. Then he made a circle with his fingers. Matt stared at Todd's hand, then at Fred, then at Todd's hand again. "No!" he whispered in disbelief. "Nobody is that big."
"I've seen it," muttered Todd. "Believe me, it's huge!"
Before Matt could reply Fred stood up and pulled on a pair of shorts. He slipped his feet into his Jesus boots and announced that he was going for a walk. The door leading to the barracks yard had barely slammed shut when Nathan decided it was time for him to be in bed. None of the boys thought it strange when they heard the door to the barracks yard slam closed again.
"Somebody will be walking funny come the dawn," said Jon with a yawn.
Sean shook his head. "You know that Nathan is going to put the moves on Fred, don't you?" he asked.
"Of course he is," agreed The Phantom.
"Or thinks he is. Personally I think it's the other way around." Cory had returned from his shower. He ran his hand over Sean's chest. "Come on, Anders, it's time you weren't here." He quickly pulled on a pair of boxers and held out his hand to his lover. "Let's sit on the stoop before you toddle off to your bed."
Grinning an embarrassed grin Sean stood up and followed Cory from the Gunroom. The Phantom reached over and ruffled Matt's hair. "Come on, boychick, it's time we went home, too."
The Phantom and Matt said goodnight to the others. Matt tried to ignore the sad, sullen look on Todd's face as he left the Gunroom. He was, after last night with The Phantom, his own man now. Matt thought he knew exactly where he stood with Todd and while he did not doubt that The Phantom and Cory would do their best for him, he had decided that he should move on with his life. In a month or so he was moving to Germany - a move that he was not looking forward to - and all things being equal he would be there for three years. Perhaps at the end of the day it was best that he had not become involved with Todd. There was a chance that in the coming three years Todd's infatuation with Harry would end. Matt also considered that there was also a chance that he would meet someone who would love him for himself, without let or hindrance. He would have just once liked to have had Todd make love to him, as The Phantom had. It had not happened, and Matt was realist enough to know that it would not happen. Todd was committed to Harry, for whatever reasons.
They stopped just before the Gunners Barracks and Matt thanked The Phantom again for their night together, and for being with him this evening.
"I told you last night, Matt. I love you. I love you very much," replied The Phantom as he reached out and ran his finger down Matt's smooth cheek. "Last night was something I will always cherish." He frowned slightly. "I was hoping that tonight Todd would . . ."
Matt pressed his hand against The Phantom's warm lips. "Todd is with Harry, remember?"
The Phantom nodded. "I have the impression that he's only with Harry because he doesn't want to just drop him for no good reason. They're half-assed in love and they've been good friends for a long time. Todd feels it would not be the right thing to just end their relationship, to forget everything they are to each other."
Matt laughed a low, sardonic laugh. He sat on the barracks steps and looked up at The Phantom. "Todd is an honourable man, Phantom. He's not like Nathan, who will fuck any guy who takes his fancy. He wants Harry, but he doesn't want Harry." He patted the steps and The Phantom sat down beside him. "I've been around long enough to see that Todd and Harry are, as you said, just a passing thing. Sooner or later they will break up, as you also said. I'm just not prepared to wait."
The Phantom took a deep breath. Matt had to know Todd's true feelings towards him. "I think Todd's realizes that, Matt. Just as he knows that his affair with Harry is just an affair. I think he should break things off with Harry. Todd won't admit it to himself, but when Harry's gone off with Stefan, or whomever, he'll have nobody. Cory will be with Sean. I'll be with my Gunner."
"And with luck I'll have found somebody," stated Matt firmly. "It's too late for Todd and me."
The Phantom started. "Funny, Todd said the same thing when we were talking."
"Then he knows," replied Matt with a sad shake of his head. He reached out and took The Phantom's hand in his. "I will always love Todd, Phantom. I will just not wait for him. He's right. It is too late for us, too late for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is Germany."
"I'd forgotten you were going," said The Phantom.
"I haven't. I am not looking forward to being cooped up with my father and my brother for the next three years in a country where I don't speak the language, a place where I don't know the people, or the customs. To be honest, if I could get out of going I'd grab the chance to stay here. As it is the only thing that gives me the courage not to run away is the knowledge that you and Cory will be there for me if I need you, that after three years I can come home and be with you." He saw the look on The Phantom's face. "Don't worry, Phantom, I'm not asking you to be waiting with legs spread, or anything like that. I know you love me, and that will keep me warm at night. So does the knowledge that if I need a place to go you'll give it to me."
"Matty, you will always have a place with me," replied The Phantom. He stood up and then bent down and kissed Matt. "You're wrong about Todd, Matt. He does love you. He'll be there for you if you need him."
"Todd said it, Phantom. It's too late," replied Matt. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning."
The Phantom nodded and began the walk back to the Mess Hall. He did not see a confused and frightened Two Strokes step silently from the shadows.
The Gunroom was dark, the quiet broken only by the soft, heavy breathing of sleeping teenagers. Two Strokes crept as quietly as he could down the row of bunks, not seeing the sleeping forms, not noticing that Fred's bunk was empty. He quickly stripped down to his briefs and lay on top of his bunk, his hands behind his head, trying to understand what had happened to him. He turned his head and saw that Thumper was lying on his side, facing away from him.
Two Strokes smiled softly. Thumper . . . Thumper had given him something he never thought he would ever receive. He could feel his heart pounding and his dick twitching, held in check by his tighty-whiteys. He knew that he should feel shame, should feel disgusted, but he didn't. He felt wonderful and what Thumper had done to him had been - for him - wonderful, and so right.
He heard low coughing and a stirring from the far end of the Gunroom. He raised his head. It was just Cory tossing in his sleep. He lay back and thought of . . . Cory. Cory would have loved him. Cory would have held him in his strong, warm arms and loved him.
Abruptly, Two Strokes sat up and threw his legs over the side of his bunk. He'd been such a fool! He'd listened to the bigotry and the hatred and he'd been wrong! They had all been wrong! He remembered the electricity that had coursed through him when his and Cory's penises had touched, the warmth he had felt when they kissed, the feeling of such indescribable GLORY he had felt as Thumper had sucked him, the totally overwhelming AWESOME brilliance that had consumed him when his dick pulsed and his orgasm - a mind-numbing, all encompassing orgasm - had exploded from his cock!
Two Strokes looked over his shoulder again, then stood up and walked around the end of his bunk. He sat on Thumper's bed and reached out, touching the boy's shoulder.
Thumper rolled onto his back and looked into Two Strokes' eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked slowly.
"More than all right," replied Two Strokes. He slid his hand under the coverlet that hid Thumper's body. His fingers felt Thumper's heavy, oval balls, and caressed the half-hard penis under the soft cotton of Thumper's tighty-whiteys. "I can't sleep," he said in a harsh whisper. "I . . . would you like to go for a walk with me . . . Tom?"
Thumper slowly drew the coverlet away from his body. "I'd like that . . . Roger."
In the galley Chef and The Gunner were just finishing the last of their beer. It had been a long day for both men. Fortunately tomorrow gave promise of being easier - breakfast would not be served until 0900, the cadets being encouraged to sleep late and finish their packing and Chef could sleep in for the first time in two months. The Gunner, except for some last minute paperwork, had nothing on his plate. He too could claim some extra rack time. The one thing planned for tomorrow, the one thing that neither of the men really wanted to have happen, would take place at 1130. That was when the buses would arrive and the cadets would leave for the airport, and home.
Ray and Kevin were just finishing the last of the cleaning when The Phantom entered. They were anxious for Chef to leave, as they wanted to spend some time together in Chef's office. Sandro, who had seen Nathan go off with Eion Reilly, busied himself with making the pancake batter they would use in the morning. He was disappointed that Nathan had proven so flighty. Still, there were other fish in the sea and he knew that outside, waiting for him, was Chad. They had struck up a conversation while watching the other cadets dancing and making fools of themselves, trying to entice the girls into the bushes. Chad had been most emphatic about his disdain for such activity. When Sandro had asked him if the liked girls Chad had smiled enigmatically. Girls, he opined, were all right, if you liked that sort of thing. Sandro had caught the emphasis and asked if Chad really preferred boys. Chad was deliberately non-committal. Perhaps, he asked, Sandro would like to discuss girls, or other things when Sandro got off duty? Sandro would.
When The Phantom came into the galley Ray walked over and took his arm. "Have you seen Joey and Randy? The little brats have the early morning duty. I don't want to have to do it and I think Sandro is . . ." he looked quickly around. " . . . I think he has a date."
The Phantom chuckled. "Sandro? Who with? It can't be one of les girls, as they've all gone ashore."
Ray blushed and snickered. "Chad's waiting outside."
The Phantom grinned and laughed. "Chad? For Sandro?"
"Well not for me, or for Kevin!" returned Ray. "Chad's been sniffing around Sandro half the night."
The Phantom watched as Sandro put the bowl of pancake batter into the fridge and wiped down the counter he'd been working at. He then folded his towel, placed it carefully on the counter, smiled at The Phantom and waved goodnight. Ray and The Phantom watched him as he left the galley. "I could say something dirty, you know," murmured The Phantom. "But . . ."
"You better not," said Ray with a grin. "We are both of us going to be doing the same thing, later on."
"God, I hope so," replied The Phantom. He looked over and saw The Gunner stifling a yawn. "I better get the old man moving."
Ray laughed. "Now you know why I picked a younger man. Lots of stamina and they never get tired!"
"Neither does The Gunner, in the right situation," retorted The Phantom with a wink. He looked around the galley. "Randy and Joey in the lounge?"
Ray shook his head. "Nope. I was just in there. It's empty."
"They are probably in their barracks, waiting impatiently for us to clear out." The Phantom thought a moment. "Or they're over in the Sea Puppy barracks. They're good friends with Simon."
Kevin overheard The Phantom's last remark. "They're not with Simon," he said in a conspiratorial tone. "I saw him leave the beach with that brat Calvin Hobbes." The Phantom saw The Gunner motion for him to get a move on. "I shouldn't worry. Simon is a very intelligent young man. Calvin might be a brat but he's all right. Nicholas would not have taken him on as a Signalman if he wasn't."
"You're probably right," said Ray. "After all, what could two young kids like that get up to?"
The Phantom knew exactly what kids like that could get up to. After all, Simon had had two very good instructors when it came to sex. Calvin was an unknown quantity. All The Phantom knew about him was that he was a friend of Robby Jensen's - not a good sign, but not devastating either. Simon was a very serious young man and would not go in harms way. No, Simon was probably safe in his little bed in the barracks. "You're right," The Phantom said to Kevin. "What possible trouble could those two get into? They probably got bored and went off looking for a wild game of Monopoly. You know how little kids are."
"Yeah, I do," replied Kevin morosely. "That's what worries me."
Simon lay on his back, cushioned by the pile of bunting they had thrown onto the rough, scarred floorboards of the old Guard Room. His legs were tightly wrapped around Calvin's thin waist, his arms draped around his lovers' neck. Through hooded eyes he looked at Calvin's sweat-beaded face, a mask, a rictus of pain and pleasure, as he strained to repress his natural inclinations to slam into Simon's body. Calvin was moving his hips in a slow, deliberate, almost mystical rhythm, determined to give Simon as much pleasure as his young body was capable of receiving.
Beneath Calvin, Simon felt as if a volcano were erupting between his legs as molten streams of raw pleasure flowed and rippled through his body. With each slow, deliberate push of Calvin's hips the spongy head of his slim erection brushed against Simon's prostate, sending a new firestorm of desire raging through him. Simon groaned as the soft skin of Calvin's belly rubbed across the throbbing underside of his enraged penis, as the soft hairs that crowned Calvin's genitals chaffed against the sensitive skin of his perineum. He sensed the feeling building and the so glorious TINGLING as his secret spot just under his glans reacted to the stimulus of Calvin's caressing, immature treasure trail. He began to growl in ecstasy as the feeling began to overpower him. It was as if his cock and balls were MELTING. Every nerve ending in his channel was crackling with the blue flame of desire; the underside of his penis, jerking and throbbing, was burning . . . he was going to spooge. He could feel the sensations overwhelming his brain. He was going to nut, to cream, to blow his load to . . . CUM! Simon thrust back as Calvin pushed downward and his eyes rolled back. His fingers clawed the dusty fabric of the flags. A low, animal growl flew from his throat and a stream of thin semen shot between his and Calvin's bodies.
Calvin felt the muscles of Simon's rectum tighten, felt the warm stickiness that coated their stomachs. He squealed and squeaked as his penis pulsed, thickened and the gaping slit in his mushroom ejaculated a massive river, filling Simon's squirming body. He began to shudder and squirm, thrusting as deep into Simon as he could, his balls pulsing rhythmically as they emptied in long, firm jets of semen. He collapsed and his mouth found Simon's, their lips crushed together.
They lay together, Calvin's hard penis firmly imbedded in Simon's tight hole. Calvin, spent and exhausted, was breathing in great, rasping gasps, his entire body flushed and heated. This had been no dog-fucking-a-dog coupling as always happened when he was with Robbie. Something he could not understand had happened. Something so very special had happened! He began to slowly pull his body away from Simon's.
"NO!" Simon increased his grasp on Calvin's slimness. "Don't leave me, stay in me! I want you in me always!"
"Simon . . ." began Calvin. He felt Simon manipulating the muscles of his rectum and groaned loudly. Calvin needed, wanted Simon again. He was till rock hard, still capable, still . . . He began to thrust again, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Harder," groaned Simon. "You can't hurt me." His body rocked and pushed upward, meeting Calvin's thrusting. "I want you again," he moaned. "I want you, Calvin."
Calvin's second orgasm was mind shattering and body rending, so powerful that his body seemed paralysed, so absolute that he could not move. He felt his penis shrink and fall from Simon's body with a soft plopping noise, and he rolled away, only to be pulled back again. Calvin was sated, was exhausted, and he knew without looking that his penis and testicles were brilliantly flushed, a deep red, and he was happier than he had ever been in his life. Calvin felt Simon's soft hand as it first caressed his chest and nipples, then his stomach, then his patch of dark red pubic hair. He raised his head and stared into Simon's deep, brown eyes. "I . . ." he began, only to lapse into silence when Simon's fingers covered his mouth.
"You don't have to say anything, Calvin," replied Simon with a soft smile. "I wanted this. You wanted this. There is nothing to be said, really."
Calvin frowned. "Simon, if I wanted a quick fuck I would have gone into town. If I wanted a fuck without any attachments, any feeling other than getting my load off, I would have gone into town. I can get laid any time I want. What we did, you and I, was not getting laid. It was far and away the best experience of my life. I did not fuck you, Simon. Robbie Jenson I fuck, you . . ."
Simon smiled and kissed Calvin quickly. "That's what I meant, Calvin. I wanted you to make love to me." He rolled on his back and put his hands behind his head. "Yesterday I was told that the first time a boy makes love is something he will remember for the rest of his life. It should be with a person who is, well, more than special."
"Am I that person?" asked Calvin. His first time had been with Robbie, and he was now very much ashamed that Robbie Jensen had been the first boy that he had ever fucked.
Simon regarded Calvin and then nodded. "We could have just fooled around, sucked each other off, done the usual schoolboy things. We didn't. I wanted to feel you in me. I wanted you, Calvin, so yes, you are that person." He shrugged. "I know that after tonight we'll probably never see each other again. I'm leaving for home tomorrow and I'm not all that sure that I want to come back. This year was so very special I don't think that it can ever be repeated." He rolled on his side again and gently stroked Calvin's face. "I've met so very many wonderful boys. Phantom, Todd, Randy, and Joey. And I met you, so . . ."
"Simon, will you shut up for one Jeezly minute?" interrupted Calvin as he raised himself on one elbow. He looked directly at Simon. "You don't know duck shit!"
"I don't?" replied Simon, surprised at Calvin's vehemence.
"No, you do not! What makes you think that I want this to be the last time that we're together?"
"Calvin, I told you. I'm going home tomorrow. I live on the mainland and it's not as if I can call a cab. Burnaby is not exactly around the corner from Comox!"
"No, it isn't. But you could take the ferry to Nanaimo, or over to Victoria and the train up to Comox. Or I can get my goofy brother to drive me down to Nanaimo and I could take the ferry over. It's either that or the next time that little Mikey comes creeping around looking for a dry hump he'll find my bed surrounded by bear traps!"
"You wouldn't!"
Calvin laughed. "No, I wouldn't." He suddenly moved and before Simon knew it he was kneeling between his legs. "What I am trying to tell you, Simon Keppel, is that I want to see you again." He leaned down and ran his warm tongue along the inside of Simon's thigh. Simon shuddered with delight. "I also want you to know something else," he said as he licked the round, firm head of Simon's penis."
"What . . . what's that?" asked Simon between pants. The effect of Calvin's tongue on his body was stunningly erotic.
"Remember I told you that I fucked my friend Robby?"
"Yeah."
"And remember how you said the first time should be special?"
Simon could not fathom what Calvin was on about but he was not about to protest when the boy was cleaning his balls with his tongue. He moaned in reply.
"Well, I only fucked Robby when his brother, the stud, wasn't around to put him out of his misery."
Simon was shocked and horrified. He tried to struggle into a sitting position. "Robbie fucked his brother?"
Calvin pushed Simon back down. "Will you be still and yes, Robby fucks his brother. He only calls me when Jeff isn't available." He snickered and licked along the length of Simon's once again hard penis. "Robby loves being fucked."
"Thanks for sharing," growled Simon, who was more interested in the tongue bath he was receiving than in some strange boy's sex habits. "And you and Mikey, you and him . . .?"
"Nope. Mikey rubs himself off. The only reason I feel any skin is because his Clydesdale dick is so big it sticks about two inches out of the band of his undies. Mikey has never got near my bunghole. Stop wiggling, Simon!"
"How can I?" whined Simon. "You're licking my dick!"
"And I'm going to lick a lot more," returned Calvin with a lewd chuckle. "I am going to lick you clean and when I'm finished you are in for the time of your life!"
"I am?" Simon squirmed and wiggled. "And just how do you plan on doing that?"
Calvin growled and nipped at Simon's balls. Simon yelped and drew back. Calvin gave Simon's scrotum a huge lick and then flopped down on top of the boy. "Simon, you haven't heard a word I said, damn you," he said in a mock angry tone. He ground his hard cock against Simon's. "I just told you that I fucked my friend Robby. I also told you that all Mikey does is rub himself off against my bum, which is covered by my undies!"
"I heard you," returned Simon. "I'm not stupid and I understand what you said." Suddenly he did realize what Calvin was saying. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose sharply. "Calvin, you've never . . . I mean you have never, you know . . .?"
"Been fucked, screwed, boned, anally penetrated or corn-holed or whatever term or phrase you want to use. I said that I fucked Robbie. He never fucked me. No one has."
"Jesus!"
Calvin looked thoughtful. "Simon, I never let Robbie near my hole because all it would have been was a fuck. All I was to him was a dick, a dick that filled his hole and made him feel good. He used me because he wanted to be fucked. I used him because I was horny and like to fuck. Half the time I didn't even enjoy it. He likes to control everything." Calvin made a face. "Now that I think of it, I really don't like him."
"Which means?" asked Simon, hoping that Calvin would . . .
"Which means I think I love you," replied Calvin huskily. "You are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen. When I saw you on the jetty I wanted you. When I sat beside you earlier tonight I wanted you even more. I wanted every part of you and you can believe me or not, I want you with me always." He kissed Simon gently. "The reason I never let Robbie do me was simple. To him I would have been just another fuck, nothing special at all. I didn't want my first time to be with someone like him." Another kiss. "Simon, I want my first time to be with you. I want to pretend that Robbie Jensen never happened. I want to know that my first time was with a special boy who loved me and made love to me, and not just fucked me! Make love to me, Simon, my love, make love to me?"
As they left the Mess Hall, The Phantom thought that something seemed different. He looked around and then realized that Mark's black hearse was missing. He wondered, briefly, why Mark, or Tony had taken the car, and where. The last he had heard both boys were off to Cabin 5. Strangely, he never thought of Nathan at all.
For a few brief moments the lights of the passing Land Rover illuminated the boxy outlines of the black car hidden in the shadows of the forest, lights that neither of the two boys in the back seat saw, nor did they hear the passage of the tires on the gravel of the road as The Gunner's car disappeared into the gloom.
Nathan growled and nipped at Fred's neck as the tall, lanky Crusher thrust savagely into him. Fred, moaning and shaking, buried his face deeper into Nathan's neck. His hips thrust with jackhammer rapidity into Nathan, the head of his penis ravaging the American boy's prostate, causing him to yelp and tighten the muscles of his rectum around Fred's huge, thick cock. Suddenly, Nathan yelled, "OH . . . FUCK!" and a long, unearthly wail rent the quiet of the forest. Fred could feel the warm wetness of Nathan's ejaculation spreading across his tautly muscled stomach and he could not hold back. His body stiffened and he gave a majestic thrust and a feral, animal-like howl rose from his throat. He continued to thrust and thrust and then gave one final, ultimate thrust into Nathan, stiffened again, and collapsed.
Nathan, his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Fred's body, groaned and buried his nose in Fred's sweat drenched hair. Fred, tiny tremors rolling through his body, moved his head and his lips found Nathan's. "Crikey, that was brilliant," he moaned when he broke their kiss. He started to slowly withdraw his softening penis from Nathan's body.
Nathan's hands moved quickly down Fred's back and pressed his firm butt cheeks. He manipulated the muscles in his rectum, causing Fred's imbedded cock to stiffen. "Please tell me that you are not a one shot wonder," Nathan taunted. He could not bear the thought of the wonderful fullness leaving him. He wanted Fred again. He squeezed his butt muscles together, feeling the thickness in him tremble. "Or have you just run out of steam, Freddy?"
A malevolent, lust-filled glint came into Fred's eyes. He laughed a wicked little laugh. "Always remember, Yank, Britannia rules the waves," he said as he once again began a slow, methodical thrusting. "Britannia always rules the waves!"
When they arrived at the apartment The Phantom undressed and went into the shower. He'd been yawning all the way from Comox, the effects of beer, scotch, and the day's fatigue taking its toll. When he returned from his shower The Gunner noticed that the boy had put on fresh boxers, a sure sign that sleep was uppermost in his mind. "What are you reading?" The Phantom asked as he sat down at the kitchen table opposite The Gunner. He reached out for The Gunner's hand.
"Michael's plans for the establishment of the Order in the United States. He held The Phantom's hand and then kissed it. "Why don't you go to bed? I'll be along shortly."
"I . . ." The Phantom's mouth gaped with a huge yawn. He shook his head, trying to will the sleep that was threatening to overpower him from his mind and body. "Gosh, I'm tired." He looked at The Gunner. "You don't mind if we don't do anything? I'm so damned tired, Gunner all I want to do is sleep."
"Phantom, being in love does not mean that we have to have sex every night," replied The Gunner gently. "Sometimes just being with you is enough."
"And just waking up in the morning, even though we've never done anything, is all I want. The sex is great, but knowing that you love me is better," replied The Phantom sleepily. "I don't think I'm making much sense."
"Whatever happened to the resiliency of youth, my Phantom?"
"I think I left it back at AURORA," returned The Phantom.
They held hands and just looked at one another. It was all they needed. It was all they wanted, just to be together.
"I love you, Phantom," murmured The Gunner. He reached up and brushed back an errant lock of hair that had fallen across The Phantom's forehead. "Being with you, knowing that you love me is beyond any feeling of love I can return to you."
The Phantom felt like weeping. "When you're not with me, I hurt so much. I feel . . . I . . ." suddenly the words he was searching for came to him. "You have searched me out and known me; you understand my thoughts long before."
The Gunner recognized the words. "You are about my path, and about my bed; you know all my ways; when I speak you know everything before I say it."
The Phantom smiled, his face full of love. "Your love has made me who I am, Stevie Winslow; you have fashioned me and made me what I am. Sometimes the love you show me is too wonderful, too excellent for me to stand. I think of you, I dream of you. No matter what I do, or what I shall ever do, climb up to heaven or descend into hell, you are there with me."
The Gunner stood up and walked around the table. He lifted The Phantom to his feet and held him in his arms. His lips brushed The Phantom's. "If I take the wings of the morning; and remain in the uttermost part of the sea," he whispered, "Even there also shall your hand lead me; and your right hand shall hold me."
The Phantom was weeping now, his heart beating rapidly. "If the darkness shall cover me," he returned, "you shall turn my night into day. The darkness is no darkness with you at my side and the night is as clear as the day; the darkness and the light with you with me are alike."
The Gunner led The Phantom to the bed and slowly lowered him to the mattress. "Sleep, Phantom." He pulled the covers over the boy and kissed him gently on the forehead.
The Phantom's eyes were clouded with sleep, but glowing with the love he felt for this strange sailor man. "Will you come to bed?" he asked sleepily.
"In a while, my Phantom. In a while," replied The Gunner as he turned and returned to the file on the table.