Date: Mon, 2 Jun 2003 18:42:17 -0400
From: John Ellison <paradegi@rogers.com>
Subject: The Phantom Of Aurora: Chapter 21

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, do's 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).


The Phantom Of Aurora: Chapter 21


When the Phantom pushed open the door to the room the light from the
corridor flooded in, revealing Rob and Ryan in the bed closest to the
bathroom. Both boys were naked, sprawled across the bed, the bedclothes
flung to one side. Ryan was lying on top of Rob, the pale white triangle of
his bubble butt contrasting his tanned body. His left arm was flung
outward. With his right he hugged Rob possessively. One leg was hooked
around Rob's leg. Ryan was snoring quietly, his nose buried in Rob's
shoulder; his crotch was pressed into Rob's.

The Phantom, seeing the two boys, hurried over and pulled the covers over
their naked bodies. Ryan squirmed, shivered, and ground his crotch into
Rob's. He moaned something incoherent in his sleep. "It's, ah, it's not
what it looks like, Ray," stammered The Phantom quietly as Ray turned on a
dim light.

Ray smiled thinly. "Yeah, it is." He walked to his kit bag and pulled out
some fresh briefs. "I'm going to shower," he whispered, his eyes searching
The Phantom's face for any sign that he might want to . . . He quickly
averted his gaze and said laconically, "If you want to have a pee, now's
the time to do it." Ray pushed down his swimming trunks and walked naked
into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

The Phantom watched Ray step into the shower stall and close the glass
door. Then he dropped his trunks and went into the bathroom, shut the door,
had a pee, which he needed to do desperately and stepped up to the sink and
washed his hands. As he looked into the mirror that lined the wall above
the sink he could see Ray's vague shape through the diffusing glass doors
of the shower stall. The Phantom checked his beard, such as it was. He
would have to shave in the morning. Like all 17-year olds he automatically
checked his face, examining it closely. No zits!

The water in the shower stopped running and The Phantom heard the shower
door slide open. Reflected in the mirror was Ray, who made no pretence of
trying to hide his frankly beautiful erection, all dusty pink and rose and
tan, five hard inches jutting at an angle from his body. He stepped from
the shower and moved behind The Phantom, grabbed one of the large, fluffy
towels provided by the motel, and began to slowly dry his body. Ray saw The
Phantom looking at his reflection in the mirror. He dropped the
towel. "What Rob and Ryan have," he began softly, "is what I want you and
me to have."

The Phantom's eyes met Ray's. "Ray, I . . ." Dear God, I never . . . I
don't . . . Dear God has Ray got a beautiful dick!

Ray held out his hand and moved closer to The Phantom.  He put his hand on
The Phantom's waist, then leaned forward and kissed him. "They're only
doing what we've be doing for a month now." He grinned. "I know, Phantom."

The Phantom's jaw dropped and his heart skipped a beat. "You, ah, you know
what?" Ray's voice, the movements of his hands, told The Phantom that his
question was superfluous. How could Ray possibly know?

"That it was you that gave me my first hand job," Ray whispered. He hands
reached around and he drew The Phantom's body close to his. "You gave me my
first blowjob. You were the first boy that ever kissed me, that you gave me
my very first kiss." His hands moved and he fondled The Phantom's
low-hanging testicles. His eyes were wide with the wonders of what The
Phantom had done to him, had given him. "You who took me to places I never
knew existed, Phantom, places that I would never have gone to without you."

"How did you know?" asked The Phantom as Ray clasped his fingers around The
Phantom's throbbing erection.

Ray ran his fingers up and down the length of The Phantom's warm, hard
penis, feeling it pulse rhythmically. "Your smell, your scent," he replied
as his fingers traced the throbbing vein than ran the length of The
Phantom's beautiful hardon. He was breathing in short, heavy gasps. "When
you're that close to a guy, you can really smell him. You smell different
from every other guy." He sobbed and then . . . His lips met The Phantom's.

The Phantom returned Ray's kiss, and then pushed him gently away. What was
it about this sweet, dark-eyed boy that made him so damned . . . desirable?

Ray slowly stroked The Phantom's warm penis, his fingers playing gently
with the special spot just under the head. "It was your scent, Phantom the
wonderful smell of you." Ray backed away, a serious look on his face. "When
I first realized that it was you I thought, wow, how could I get so lucky,
having a guy like you coming into my barracks every night, making love to
me. When we were on Texada, and we took that morning bath together, and you
let me scrub your back and for the first time I felt your warmth, I felt
your skin under my hand and . . ." He reached out and stroked The Phantom's
face. "Oh, God, Phantom, I never wanted it to stop. I didn't want it to
stop after we got back to AURORA, I don't want it to stop now. When I saw
you get out of that car today, I was over the moon, just to be near
you. And when you said you needed a place to sleep and took me up on my
offer to sleep with me, in my bed, I almost died from sheer happiness."

The Phantom did not know what to say. His mind told him that he should not
be thinking what he was thinking, that he should not want what he wanted,
that he and Ray . . .

"I suppose I was stupid, thinking that maybe we could do things together,"
Ray continued. "Then I thought, well, that's okay. Just sleeping with him
is enough. I thought, I'll see him, have him, on Monday or Tuesday." Tears
welled up in Ray's eyes as he stared at The Phantom. "But that's not going
to happen, is it?"

"No."

"And you coming into the barracks, that's not going to happen again, is
it?"

The Phantom answered Ray as gently as he could. "No."

Ray slumped to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He was not
crying, but he was very close to it. "I thought you loved me," muttered
Ray. "I thought I meant something to you." He raised his face, his eyes
welling. "But I didn't. What was I, Phantom, just a dick with a body
attached to it? Was that all I ever was?"

The Phantom leaned down and pulled Ray to his feet. He pulled him close and
his arms enveloped Ray's slim body. Their lips met and they kissed deeply,
passionately. Their mouths opened and their tongues met. "You were the
first boy I ever loved," began The Phantom when they pulled apart. He gazed
into Ray's deep brown eyes and began kissing Ray's sweet, boyish face. "You
were the first boy I ever kissed," he murmured between kisses. "You were
the first boy I ever sucked on. It was your cum that I swallowed first. It
was you I rimmed. You were the first boy who ever let me love him!" His
lips found Ray's again and he pushed Ray's firm, round, behind, forcing
their erections together. He held the kiss as he kneaded and caressed Ray's
warm, wonderful behind.

Ray began to moan softly and to grind his hips, his boner rubbing over and
over across The Phantom's throbbing erection. With quick, urgent, rapid
upward thrusts Ray brought himself to a crashing orgasm. He tried to pull
his lips away, but The Phantom would not allow it, and held the kiss,
feeling the warmth of Ray's semen spreading across his stomach. When Ray's
convulsing body calmed and his hips stopped thrusting, The Phantom released
him. He pressed Ray's head close to his chest. "You were always, you will
always be, my first love, Ray!" The Phantom rubbed Ray's back in slow,
concentric circles. "You were never a dick with a body attached to
it. Never!"

"But why . . .?" asked Ray. He nuzzled The Phantom's chest.

"Why?" The Phantom smiled wanly. "I fell in love, Ray. I love someone
else." The Phantom stroked the back of Ray's head. "I love him so much,
Ray, in a way that I never thought possible."

Ray pulled back and smiled. "I know that, too. When you got out of The
Gunner's car I knew it. I saw the way you looked. I knew, Phantom." His
hand caressed The Phantom's firm chest. "Will you still sleep with me?" he
asked quietly as he looked into The Phantom's emerald green eyes, Will you
let me . . ."

Ray began slowly kissing his way down The Phantom's chest. The Phantom
stopped him and pulled him close to him. "Ray, I love you very much. I will
sleep with you, but that's all."

"But . . ."

The Phantom placed his fingers on Ray's lips. "The first time you make real
love, do it with someone who means more than life to you. Do it with the
boy or man you love beyond all reason." He kissed Ray gently on his
forehead. A part of him wanted to continue making love with Ray, whom he
did care a great deal for. His conscience though, echoed The Gunner's words
in the car: "You're going to be attracted to boys your own age . . . You
will be hornier than hell and you will want to get laid . . ."

The Phantom remembered his reply: "I just might meet some guy that I'll
want to fuck around with.  But that's all it will ever be . . ."

As he held Ray close The Phantom thought, "The Gunner is scared.  He loves
me, and he's scared he'll lose me, and I blow him off with some jackass
flippant back talk!" He felt Ray's warmth, felt his desires overwhelming
him. His mind raced wildly. "And then I turn around and do exactly what he
said I'd do. Hell, sheeit and God DAMN!" he realized that he wanted to be
with Ray, wanted to love him. "Ah, Ray, how I do love you," he murmured. "I
wanted you every time we were together. I still want you." And he knew that
he would love Ray tonight. He would not make love to him, but he would love
the handsome, dark-eyed cook.

"You do?" asked Ray, his face betraying his confusion.

The Phantom held Ray closely. "Yes, I do. But not the way you want me. I
love you for being you. I love you for being the sweet, shy, wonderful guy
you are. I love you for being my friend. I love you for the way you smell
at night, for the smile you give me every time you see me, for that look in
your eye that you have. The other, the sex, was just a bonus."

"But, Phantom, you, you gave me all the sex. I never . . ."

"I never wanted that from you. I got off on giving you as much pleasure as
I could. I got off on sucking your cock, and feeling you cum, of tasting
you."

"And I want you, Phantom," murmured Ray. He began slowly licking The
Phantom's right nipple.

The Phantom moaned softly. Ray's tongue was caressing one of the places on
his body that aroused him. Ray's hand drifted down and enveloped The
Phantom's semi-hard cock. As Ray began to move downward and his lips
brushed against The Phantom's spongy, inflamed helmet, The Gunner's words
echoed through him. "Sooner or later you will be hornier than hell and you
will want to get laid."

The Phantom groaned as he felt Ray's mouth engulf him and he could not stop
himself. He began to slowly thrust his enraged, pulsing hardon into Ray's
mouth. As his dick jerked and the wonderful feelings began to almost
overwhelm him, his mind raced as he thought wildly, "God damn you, Gunner
. . . Fuck Ray, don't . . . why . . . God . . . Damn . . . Jesus, don't
stop, Ray, don't stop . . ."

The Phantom ejaculated explosively in Ray's mouth. His face contorted and
his body spasmed. As Ray drew more and more of his sperm from him, The
Phantom bent forward, his hips thrusting, his cock jerking as Ray swallowed
greedily. "God damn you, God damn . . . Why do you have to be RIGHT?"

*******

The Gunner awoke, stretched, and then reached down and scratched
himself. The hands of the bedside clock announced the time: 0600. He
groaned and snuffled; wondering why the first thing a guy did when he woke
up was to stretch and then reach down and feel himself. He'd been in mess
decks, in barracks rooms, in tents, and sure as shit, every morning, the
guys would wake up and check themselves. "Maybe we just want to make sure
its still there," he thought. A reflex reaction to ensure that a boy's
favourite toy was still with him? The Gunner chuckled at the thought.

He looked over and saw a huge lump under the covers of the other bed. He
had slept so soundly - he was honest enough to believe that Phantom had a
lot to do with his being so tired - that he had not heard Kyle and Andy
come in. In a way he envied the two young officers. At least they got to
sleep together.

He showered, slipped on his shorts and a T-shirt, and went downstairs. His
first priority was to bring his dress uniform up from the car. If the
cadets were going to be dressed to the nines, so was he, although he was
not all than enamoured about the green suit, and he did not relish the
thought of having to wear a starched shirt and tie. Once he had taken the
uniform up to his room he could have a quiet breakfast. Wakey-Wakey for the
cadets was not until 0730, and the restaurant would be all but empty.

As he exited the stairwell, The Gunner saw that the pool area was deserted,
which was to be expected, he supposed. The tourists were on vacation and
there was no reason for any of them to be up and about at 0630. As for the
cadets, most of whom had stayed up watching television, talking, or just
being teenagers, being able to sleep in on a Monday morning was a luxury
they had not enjoyed since leaving home.

The Gunner turned the corner of the motel and saw The Phantom sitting on
the narrow pathway separating the building from the parking lot. His back
was against the blank wall of the stairwell and his legs were drawn up. He
was staring moodily into the distance, past the Lombardy and boxwood hedges
that lined the perimeter of the half-filled lot. The Gunner, as he often
said, was not a stupid man and from the look on The Phantom's face he
figured that someone was having a major attack of guilty conscience.

Which The Phantom was. He was mentally berating himself for allowing last
night with Ray to happen. It was bad enough that they had made each other
cum in buckets, in the bathroom and in the shower, but they had necked and
nuzzled each other half the night and ended up sixty-nining! And to make
matters worse he had woken up with Ray spooned against him, with Ray's
hardon deep in the valley of his ass, and with Ray's hand grasping his
morning woody.

The Gunner hunkered down beside The Phantom and bid him good morning. The
Phantom, who had not heard The Gunner approach, nor heard him sit down,
started.  "Oh, uh, hi, Guns," he stammered. "Nice, um, morning."

"A very nice morning," agreed The Gunner. "A perfect day for a
parade. Clear and cool." He reached over and shook The Phantom's hand.

The Phantom giggled despite his feelings of guilt, remembering Chef's
antics at his wet down.

"That's better. I like it when you laugh," said The Gunner. He leaned over,
his mouth close to The Phantom's ear. "Want to talk about it?" he asked
quietly. "And I commend you on your good taste. Ray is a very nice boy."

The Phantom's head snapped around and his mouth dropped open. The Gunner
reached over and gently pushed The Phantom's chin up. The Phantom swallowed
the bile that had suddenly risen in his throat. The Gunner was grinning
slyly. He knew about Ray and there was no point in trying to weasel out of
it. "I'm sorry, Guns, I didn't mean for it to happen." The Phantom leaned
forward and hugged his knees. "We were in the bathroom, and he was in the
shower, and he came out and he was, you know, all hard, and . . ." His
voice was very low.

"Phantom," interrupted The Gunner, "you don't have to bare all of your
soul. And please, don't be sorry. Unless, of course, you didn't enjoy it."

"Jesus, Gunner!" groaned The Phantom, a pained expression on his face.
"Well, did you?"

The Phantom smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I did." He sat up quickly. "I didn't
mean for it to happen. I didn't! I mean, yeah, I did want to sleep with
Ray, because I like him, and he's warm, and nice. But not the way it ended
up." The words came in a rush as The Phantom continued. "Honest, Gunner,
all I figured was maybe a quick feel, nothing more, but one thing led to
another and we . . ." He saw a quizzical look on The Gunner's face. "But
not that," The Phantom hastened to add. "We didn't, we didn't go all the
way."

The Gunner could not help himself. He began to snicker, then broke into a
hearty laugh. The Phantom stared at him and then reached over and slammed
his fist against The Gunner's chest. "It's not funny, damn you, Gunner," he
raged "I feel bad enough as it is. I do not need you laughing at me!"

The Gunner lay back with his head against the blank wall, and looked fondly
at the now red-faced and angry boy he loved. "Did I ever tell you that your
eyes sparkle and snap when you get mad?"

"Yes, dammit, you did," muttered The Phantom through clenched teeth. "Get
mad at me, yell at me, do something," he demanded, waving his arms
about. "I slept with another guy last night. We had sex! Doesn't that mean
anything to you, you bastard!" The Phantom slouched forward, his hands
covering his face.

The Gunner turned and put his hand on The Phantom's shoulder. "What it
means is that you reacted exactly the way any normal, 17 year-old boy would
react in the same situation. He offered, you accepted. It was only sex. In
your own words, 'No big deal'.  Am I right?"

Reluctantly, The Phantom nodded. "He came on to me. He wanted to be with
me, and I, well, it just happened." He sat up, and squeezed The Gunner's
arm, holding it tightly. "I'm sorry, really sorry," he moaned. "I shouldn't
have done it." His hand gripped The Gunner's forearm. "Ray said . . . he
said that he knew about us! He said that he could see it in the way I
looked at you. Gunner . . ."

The Gunner reached over and stroked The Phantom's face, his fingers wiping
away the look of consternation. "Phantom," he whispered gently, "when two
people are in love they show it. Their love is in their eyes and in the way
they walk together, the way they talk together. I'm surprised that he's the
only one to notice."

"I didn't tell him that we . . ." The Phantom blushed.

The Gunner smiled and ran his finger down The Phantom's arm. "Phantom, if
Ray is as smart as I think he is I do believe that he has come to the
realization that we've been together."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Not really, no," replied The Gunner with a small shake of his head. He
looked into The Phantom's eyes. "Phantom, sex is a part of any
relationship. It's not all the relationship. If it was then all you have
are two guys fucking. A true relationship is also one where the two people
are friends and confidants. They trust one another, and love one another in
a special way." He grinned. "Sort of the way you feel about the Twins, and
Ray."

"Ray thinks that he's in love with me," responded The Phantom. "And I love
him."  "I know." The Gunner sighed slowly. "Phantom, for you, and Ray,
making love is just a natural extension of the actual love you feel for
each other. I take it that you were Ray's first?"

The Phantom nodded. "He was the first, yes. He was never with another boy
before." A strange look crossed The Phantom's face. "I can't understand why
I feel so . . . I love him, and I like being with him. What we did last
night bothers me because I . . . I betrayed what we have."

"Phantom, I want you to know, to understand, that I do not feel betrayed at
all," replied The Gunner with a dry chuckle. "In your way, you love Ray,
and in your way, you express that love. Ray feels the same thing and just
as there will always be a little part of you that is Ray, a little part of
him will be you."

"I slept with the Twins. We fucked," returned The Phantom with brutal
honesty.  "I went all the way with them, but not Ray."

"They told me," said The Gunner softly. "I expected it."

"You did?"

"I did." He held up his hand to halt any protests from The Phantom. "They
care for you, deeply. They consider you their friend and sleeping with you,
having sex with you, is for them an extension of their friendship." He
laughed ruefully. "You went with them, which would have happened eventually
anyway, I think, because you thought that I had rejected you. You turned to
the Twins for the warmth and affection, and yes, the love, I denied
you. You turned to two boys whom you love." His laughter increased.

"What?"

"The Twins don't realize it, but you have done something to them!"

"Really, Gunner, I don't think that . . ."

"No, Phantom you don't understand what I'm getting at." The Gunner squirmed
into a sitting position. "The Twins, until you came along, were basically
unthinking sex machines. They saw a boy they liked - usually because he was
handsome and well hung - and they had sex with him. Sex was merely a form
of enjoyment."

"It is that," rejoined The Phantom. "And now?"

"Now, my dear Phantom, you have made them start to think about what they
are doing. Suddenly, their relationships with other boys, particularly the
boys here, is not all about sex. Suddenly they are starting feel an
emotional attachment, an attachment that transcends a quick roll in the
hay. They have finally realized that not only do they want to have you;
they want to be with you as a friend. Cory and Todd are maturing, growing
up if you will, and I think from now on while they will be sexually active
they will give of themselves only to those boys they actually care about."

The Phantom snickered. "They are not as bad as everybody thinks they are,
you know." He wondered if The Gunner knew about the Twins and Chris. "They
don't go around jumping guys, and I wouldn't call them sex machines."

"Perhaps too harsh a judgement," agreed The Gunner. "But, the point is that
the Twins are now looking for a relationship . . ."

"Like Cory and Nathan?"

"Yes. Cory can have just about any boy he wants to have. So can Todd. Cory
wants more than a quick slap and a tickle. Todd will want the same,
eventually."

"I think Todd likes playing the field. He's not promiscuous, or anything,
but if somebody catches his eye, well then he does, you know, go for the
gold."

"The day will come," prophesied The Gunner, "when Todd will turn up his
nose and walk away. He'll like the boy, but he'll want more than just
sex. He'll want affection, love, and friendship; he will also want trust
and loyalty. Only when he has all those things will he give himself to
another boy."

"I hope he doesn't blame me when it happens!" retorted The Phantom.

"He won't because Todd is smart enough to know how you feel about him. The
other night, when you were with the Twins, it was sex. The next time it
will be a special exchange of your love for each other." He looked directly
at The Phantom. "And it will happen again."

The Phantom's mouth dropped open. When he recovered he spoke slowly. "I
can't say that it won't happen again. I'll try, but I do care for them. And
for Ray."

"Phantom, I trust you to know the difference between sex and love. There
will be other young men in your life and you will have sex with them. You
won't be jumping from bed to bed like so many young men do, because that is
not your nature. When you go to bed with another boy you will do it because
you care for him, because what you do together feels right, feels warm,
feels natural."

"Like Ray?" replied The Phantom with lowered eyes. "I know I should have
felt bad, but I didn't, and afterwards, with the Twins, I felt the same
way. It started out as just a dirty night, but later, I felt, well, I
didn't regret having been with them."

"Nor should you have," declared The Gunner. "It was bound to happen, as I
said. Ray was bound to happen, as will the other boys." He grinned. "I am a
little surprised that it happened so fast, but then, what with you being
popular and particular, I can understand why it happened. There's no point
in getting your knickers in a twist."

"I'm not wearing any," smiled The Phantom, ignoring The Gunner's mild gibe.

"So I noticed."

The Phantom looked down and saw that, what with all his squirming and
moving, his shorts had ridden up and his balls and the round, smooth head
of his dick were showing. "Fuck, Gunner, why didn't you say something," he
grumbled, pulling down his shorts.

"I liked what I saw."

The Phantom giggled. "It's all your fault anyway."

"My fault?" The Gunner asked with astonishment. "How is it my fault? I
didn't push you into bed with Ray!"

"No, but you wouldn't let me into your bed last night. If you had, I
wouldn't have had to sleep with Ray. If I hadn't slept with Ray I would not
have had sex with him. If I hadn't had sex with Ray I would not have taken
off my undies and . . ."

The Gunner burst out laughing, and fell on his side, unable to contain his
laughter and longer. The longer The Gunner laughed the poutier The Phantom
became. "Go ahead, laugh it up, Guns. Very funny, ha, ha, ha!"

The Gunner continued to laugh, and then, with difficulty, he gained a
measure of control. Despite all his warnings to The Phantom about not
displaying affection in public, he reached over and pulled the boy to his
feet, hugged him and then held him at arm's length. "Oh, my dear,
manipulating, green-eyed little monster!" he laughed. "You go to bed with
Ray, you get your end wet, and it's all my fault! God, no wonder I love
you."

The Phantom managed to squirm his way out of The Gunner's embrace, even
more upset because at The Gunner's first touch he'd gone and popped a
boner! "You're nuts!" he exclaimed, adjusting the hardon he had sprung. "I
tell you I slept with another guy and instead of blowing your top you
laugh! And look what you did to me!"

The Gunner could not help himself and started to laugh again. "Oh, Phantom,
so long as I can do that to you, then I have no worries." He stopped
laughing and assumed a serious face. "Phantom, I told you how I felt. What
happened last night will happen again. I know that, you know that. You
yourself said it. It's no big deal." Then he grinned widely. "And just
think about what you're going to have to do tonight to make me forgive
you."

The Phantom returned the grin. "You're really not mad?"

"No."

"You're not jealous?"

"Nope." The Gunner waggled his eyebrows. "Besides, I like Ray. He appeals
to me and you know what I told you about a guy who appeals to me . . ."

"You wouldn't dare!" flashed The Phantom, his eyes blazing.

"No, I wouldn't. But it sure got you going."

"Damn you!"

"Oh, Phantom, cool down. It's happened, it's over, and you're sorry." The
Gunner stood up and took The Phantom's arm. "If you didn't love me, you
would not have felt guilty. If you didn't love me, you would not have
gotten all pissed off at me."

"I do love you, Gunner," said The Phantom quietly. "I love Ray, too, but
not the way I love you. He's nice, and I'm glad he's my friend. I don't
want to spend the rest of my life with him. I do want to spend the rest of
my life with you."

The Gunner smiled. "Phantom, don't you think I know that? I know now that
you will never leave me. I only hope that I can live up to your
expectations."

The Phantom grinned. "You will. You're too damn stubborn not to! And if you
buy me breakfast I'll tell you what I'm going to do to make it all up to
you."  The Gunner grinned back. "It better be good. I might be cheap, but
I'm not easy."

"That's not what you said when we found that logging road."

******

The Gunner and The Phantom were just about to enter the restaurant when a
battered, rust-spotted, green Chevy sedan pulled up to the motel
entrance. The doors flew open and out popped Randy and Joey, followed by
Chef, who was smiling broadly. "Hey, Phantom," yelled the two
Makee-Learns. They ran over and hugged The Phantom.

"We missed you, Phantom," said Joey.

"Yeah, and Ray."  Randy gave The Phantom another hug.  "Where is he?"

"Upstairs, in bed, sleeping." He glanced at The Gunner, who grinned like a
cat with the cream. "He had a busy night." He stuck out his tongue and
returned The Gunner's grin.

The Gunner laughed. "Come on, boys, breakfast is on me."

"What's wrong with Phantom?" asked Chef. "You two have a fight?"

"No, he was up half the night. Most of the boys were," replied The Gunner
as they walked into the restaurant. He stopped abruptly and turned to
Chef. "Chef, what in the hell are you doing here?"

They found an empty table and while the boys were busy filling their plates
from the breakfast buffet, Chef explained. "Well, with only the Duty Watch
to cook for, I figured, fuck it. I need a break. So I took one."

"What happened to No H? What happened to the YAG crews? They all die?"

As the waitress poured them a cup of coffee Chef shook his head. "All the
YAGs left yesterday for so-called Squadron Manoeuvres, which means swimming
all day and a banyan tonight. No H went with them as he said he needed the
sea time. Dirty Dave the Deacon went off with Matron." Chef shuddered at
the thought of the Matron and Dirty Dave consummating their
relationship. He took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and added more sugar and
cream. "That left Wally Higman and the Duty Watch." He jerked his head
towards Joey and Randy. "Those two were driving me crazy, what with the
whining about being stuck in AURORA while everybody was down here having
fun."

"You were grumbling, too," said Randy as he sat down and attacked the huge
plate of food he had brought from the buffet.

"Plus he chased Little Big Man from the galley with a cleaver," piped up
Joey.

The Gunner stiffened. "You did?" he asked Chef.

Chef nodded. "Instead of opening up the Mess Hall I had those two skates
set up a table in the galley."

Joey and Randy, stuffing their faces with Belgian waffles, whipping cream
and maple syrup, nodded. Joey mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Joey, mind your manners," instructed The Phantom, who had sat down with an
even larger plate of food. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full."

"Anyway," said Chef in exasperation, "the little bastard informed me that
he was the Duty Petty Officer and wanted to eat at his own table. He also
told me that he wanted one of the Makee-Learns to stand a watch."

"That must have gone over like a lead balloon," chuckled The Gunner.

"I told him exactly what he could do with his table and with his Duty
Watch!" replied Chef.

"Then Little Big Man told Chef that if he didn't watch out he'd charge Chef
with abuse of authority," supplied Joey, laughing.

"So Chef grabbed his cleaver and Little Big Man yelled and took off,"
continued Randy. "For a fat man, Chef sure can run fast."

Chef almost had apoplexy. "I'll remember that you little git, on the way
home, when you want to stop for a pee!"

"What are you going on about?" asked The Gunner between guffaws.

Chef, with a hurt air, signalled the waitress for another cup of coffee. "I
made the mistake of bringing those two with me. I called Base and told them
to send over some kitchen help, and then I told those two that we were
going to Victoria. I tell them we're leaving early, so leave a shake for
0300.  Do they do that?  No, the do not! I go to the barracks and there
they are, sleeping like babes, together. It was so cute," he finished with
a smirk.

"We were lonely," said Randy, a hurt look on his face. He knew sarcasm when
he heard it. "We were the only ones in the place." He smiled shyly at The
Phantom. "Phantom understands, don't you, Phantom?"

The Phantom, eating his way through a pile of scrambled eggs, bacon,
sausages and what looked liked perogies and sour cream, nodded. "They're
little kids, Chef."

"They're a first class pain in the ass is what they are!" retorted
Chef. "Once they crawl out of their pits they have to run and have a piddle
. . ."

"And that's why we both had a woody!" exclaimed Joey. "Not what you said."

"Chef, you didn't!" exclaimed The Gunner. "Even I still wake up with a
morning woody!"

"Ha! That pitiful example of . . ."

The Gunner coughed loudly and The Phantom stifled a giggle.

Chef grinned and carried on. "Well, first they had to shower. Then they had
to pack. Which reminds me, what's the uniform, blues or whites?"

"Whites and blues." replied The Phantom.

"Thanks, you're so helpful," replied Chef tartly.

"I try to be," replied The Phantom dryly.

"Phantom's right. Whites for the parade and Ceremony of the Flags,"
explained The Gunner, "Then blues for the Sunset Ceremony tonight."

"Good job I made them bring both," nodded Chef. "Where was I, oh, yeah. I
feed them breakfast, though by the size of those plates you wouldn't know
it. We get in the car and we start out. Then they start. How long are we
going to take? Are we there yet? Then they had to pee! Jesus, those two
peed their way from Comox to Victoria!"

"Should have made them go before they left," said The Gunner, thoroughly
enjoying the show Chef was putting on.

"I did! But did that stop them? No! They tell me they have to pee so I pull
over and tell them to go, already. Do they walk twenty feet into the woods
to pee? No, they do not! There might be critters in there!" He glowered at
the two young boys who glowered back and went right on stuffing themselves.

Chef shook his head and continued on. "No self-respecting critter would be
after touching those two!" He shuddered. "There they stood beside the
motor, and me after them to hurry up because I wanted to reach Victoria
sometime today. They tell me that they can't pee because I'm looking!"

"He wasn't, we just said he was," confessed Joey.

"As if I'd be after looking look at those two puny specimens!" growled
Chef. "Go behind the car, I says. So they do. Thank God, I say, because
they'll get their business done. Then I look back. I almost fainted!" Chef
gave the snickering boys a thunderous look. "There they stood, the whole of
them . . ."

"They didn't face the traffic!" sputtered The Gunner, a note of disbelief
in his voice.

"They did," affirmed Chef. "I looked back and there they are,
pissing. There's semis roaring past; cars full of tourists are hurrying
down the motorway; the world and the ship's cat are out and driving down
the road and there are those two, with their shorts down around their
ankles, the front of their underpants pulled down, pissing as half the
world drives past."

"We got a lot of honks," laughed Randy.

"You'll get a whole lot of hurt if you pull that trick again," threatened
Chef. "From then on, all the way down, it was drive, stop, pee, drive,
stop, pee.  Nobody can pee that much!"

The Gunner laughed and nodded toward the two boys. "Well, at least you
didn't have to hold it for them!"

Both Makee-Learns groaned. "We're too big for that!" giggled Joey.

"You're big enough to unload the car. Hurry up and finish," ordered
Chef. He turned to The Phantom. "Can they change in your room?"

"Sure. They'll like that," replied The Phantom. "Come on, guys, let's go
wake up Ray." The three boys hurriedly finished their breakfasts, then
thanked The Gunner and left the restaurant.

Chef sighed, watching the three boys hurrying across the pool area toward
the stairs leading to the rooms up top. "You know, Stevie, at times I
think, thank you, God, for making me sterile. Then I look at Ray, and at
those two, and I shake my head, wondering what I did for Him to do that to
me."

"He didn't," replied The Gunner. He mentally shook his head. Chef continued
to maintain the fiction. He knew that Chef had, ten years before, somehow
contracted mumps. He also knew that when Chef was 19 or so he had been
married and . . . But then, Chef had his reasons for not speaking of the
times before and perhaps such things were best left alone. "The mumps did,"
he said, a note of humour in his voice.

"As yes, so the vicious disease did," sighed Chef.  "So, you and Phantom,
you're . . ."

"We're friends again, Chef," replied The Gunner, admitting as much as he
would admit.

Chef grinned. "Have it your way, Stevie. I never interfere."

"Balls! You're worse than an old woman."

"Well, somebody has to be around here," said Chef without rancour. "Just,
please, Stevie, be careful."

The Gunner nodded. "I plan to be. And you'd better be careful as well."
"Me? Why would I be after worrying?"

The Gunner looked around and then leaned forward. "Chef, I met Glenn
Britnell yesterday and . . ."

******

As they walked down the long corridor leading to The Phantom's room, the
three boys could hear the sounds of the troops waking up. Doors were
opened, and cadets would go pounding on neighbouring doors. Doors were
slammed. Raised voices seemed to rise from every room. As they passed the
room occupied by Dylan and Brian they could hear Dylan yelling and pounding
on the bathroom door. He was yelling that he wanted into the bathroom,
which was occupied by Jack, one of his roommates. "You're as bad as
Thumper," they heard Dylan yell. "Now quit beating that thing . . ."

Randy and Joey giggled uncontrollably as The Phantom dragged them down the
corridor and into his room. They spotted Ray's head peeking above the
covers he had cocooned himself in and pounced.

While the two Makee-Learns were tickling and pummelling Ray, The Phantom
turned and saw Ryan and Rob. The noise Randy and Joey were making had
awakened them and they were now lying side by side, their naked bodies
covered by the bedclothes.

The Phantom grinned and arched an eyebrow as Ryan slowly pulled the covers
over his head while Rob blushed and shrugged. "Come on, you two," said The
Phantom. "Times-a-wastin'. We have to be out of here by 0930, and it's past
seven now."

Rob groaned and nudged Ryan, who nodded and threw back the covers. He was
naked and his morning woody jutted stiffly outward from his body. The
Phantom noticed Ryan's iron-hard erection, a thick 4-inch tube of pale
skin, the foreskin covering all but a small portion of his purple-hued
helmet that peeked from out of the ridge of skin. The Phantom sighed
quietly, remembering the night when he had stolen into the Storekeepers
Barracks and visiting Ryan.

Fortunately Joey and Randy were too busy roughhousing with Ray to notice as
Ryan scooted into the bathroom. "Hey, Phantom," yelled Joey, breaking The
Phantom's reminiscence. "Ray's got a woody!"

"I've seen it," returned The Phantom. He pulled the covers off of Ray and
saw that his briefs were tented deliciously. "Come on, Ray, up and at 'em."

Ray groaned and climbed out of the bed. He quickly slipped on some
shorts. He ducked his head and grinned at The Phantom. "Hi, Phantom," he
said shyly as he pulled on a T-shirt.

"Hey, Ray," returned The Phantom.  "I found those two downstairs. They
wanted to see you."

Joey and Randy were laughing and wrestling on the bed. Ray grinned at them
and shook his head. "Little brats." He looked over and saw Rob looking at
him strangely. " Jesus," he thought, "I hope he didn't hear Phantom and me
when we were . . ."

"Ray, take these two down to the restaurant," said The Phantom as he
reached over and smacked both their bottoms.

"I have to pee first," returned Ray.

"Ryan's in there," said Rob, looking pointedly at The Phantom.

Before The Phantom could reply Joey and Randy began pulling on Ray, urging
him to hurry up. "You guys can't still be hungry," exclaimed The Phantom
with a grin. "You just ate."

"They can watch me eat," said Ray. Something was going on between Rob and
The Phantom and Ray thought it best to get the hell out of Dodge. "Come on,
you two," he gestured toward the door.

"Do you have enough money?" asked The Phantom. "You can sign for your
breakfast, but only if it's bacon and eggs."

"I'm broke, Phantom," replied Ray. He looked at Joey and Randy. "Sorry
guys."  The Phantom reached into his wallet. "Here, you can pay me back on
pay day." He handed Ray a $20 bill.  "Order the buffet, it's pretty good."

Ray nodded his thanks and pushed the two younger boys out of the room. The
Phantom took his uniform out of the closet, sat on the bed, and began
fitting the gilt buttons into the tunic. Rob slipped out of bed and quickly
pulled on some boxers. He sat down and quietly waited for The Phantom to
say something. The Phantom decided to play dumb.  He began humming
tunelessly as he continued to fit the buttons into his tunic. Rob sighed
explosively. The Phantom looked up. "What?"

"You're not going to say anything?" asked Rob, a note of dread in his
voice.

The Phantom gave Rob a lopsided grin. "I'm not planning on it. It's none of
my business what you and Ryan get up to."

"You must have seen . . ."

"What? Two guys sleeping together, or two guys fooling around together?"

"Both."

The Phantom rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "Look, Rob, you didn't
do anything that millions of guys all over the world haven't done
before. Who cares? It's no skin off my dick."

Rob swallowed and remained silent, the noise from the rushing waters as
Ryan showered breaking the stillness. "Uh . . . what about Ray?"

"Ray's cool. Besides, he didn't see anything," The Phantom lied, mentally
thanking his stars that neither Rob nor Ryan had a clue what he and Ray had
done half the night. "He went right into the can. If you don't broadcast
it, no one but me is the wiser." He stood up and returned his tunic to the
closet.

Rob sagged with relief. "Thanks, Phantom. You don't know what this means to
us."  The Phantom smiled knowingly and walked to the door. He couldn't
shower until Ryan got out of the bathroom so he decided to go down below
and pester Ray. He opened the door and looked at Rob. "Actually, I do."

******

While The Phantom was talking to Rob, and Ray was assaulting the buffet
table with the able assistance of Joey and Randy, The Twins were waking
up. Although not identical, The Twins had a bond between them that they
could not explain.  They each seemed to be able to sense what the other was
going to say before he said it, and they sensed what the other was
thinking, to the extent that they drove everybody mad by finishing each
other's sentences.

Each morning at home, when they dressed for the day, and if they were not
in school (where they wore a uniform of sorts), each seemed to know
instinctively what the other was planning to wear, which allowed each Twin
to avoid wearing the same colour, style, or mode of clothing. They might be
twins but they refused to dress alike.

Their bond was such that they knew when the other was waking up. Within
seconds of Todd awakening, Cory would open his eyes. They never questioned
why Todd was always the first one to wake up.

This morning had been no different from any other morning. Cory, his body
close against Todd's, his hand down the front of Todd's boxers, holding his
woody, sensed Todd stirring. Todd, awaking, his body close to Cory's, his
hand down the front of Cory's boxers, holding his woody, opened his eyes
and waited a few brief moments until Cory's eyes opened and his bright,
shining blue eyes sparkled. They kissed and fondled each other, then got
out of bed. Harry and Greg were sleeping soundly, Greg cuddled close to
Harry, his arm across Harry's chest. The covers just above Harry's crotch
were tented nicely.

Todd silently pointed at the floor, his blue eyes bright with
amusement. Cory looked and a wide grin broke his face. Two pairs of soiled
briefs lay on the floor beside the bed. The Twins went into the bathroom
and shut the door. Almost immediately they began giggling. "Well, it looks
like the Pride of the Fleet put to sea last night," laughed Todd.

Cory, snickering and snorting, managed to gain a measure of control. "And
fired at least one broadside."

"More than one," said Todd rubbing his nose. "I told you last night that
they'd been making out. The Arundel patented semen detector is never
wrong."

Which was true. They had returned from their dinner and almost immediately
after they entered their room had detected the unique musk exuded by all
young males during and after sex, that and the fact that Harry and Greg
were sleeping so close together they might have been Siamese Twins.

The Twins had turned on the shower and while the water beat down on their
bodies they had kissed and necked and petted each other into crashing
orgasms. When they had finished showering they had gone to bed, exhausted,
assuming their normal sleeping position, and fondled each other until they
fell asleep. The only disappointment of the evening had been their father's
reaction to their plea for him to do something about Matt.

They had sat in the tapestry elegance of the Empress Room, a richly-carved
ceiling overhead, not hearing the harpist playing softly in the background,
picking glumly at their Beef Wellington, ignoring a superb 1938 Mouton,
listening to their father trying to explain why he could do little to help
Matt.

" . . . It is not that I don't want to help, boys, but you must try to
understand that this is not all black and white," Justice Arundel said
quietly.  He was a tall man, and while The Twins had inherited their
mother's hair and colouring, they had their father's height and eyes. "To
begin with, there has to be a clear-cut, systemic, pattern of child
abuse. There must be a history of abuse." Justice Arundel sipped his
wine. "Is there?"

Todd shrugged and toyed with his food a moment. "We don't know, Papa, when
we asked him . . ."

" . . .He wouldn't tell us anything," continued Cory.

"But we saw the bruises on his bum . . ." went on Todd.

" . . .And he told Phantom that his father had beaten him . . ."

Todd took a sip of his wine. " . . . Because he had a friend who was
Jewish. His father is a real . . ."

" . . .Son-of-a-bitch . . ." finished Cory. A blush began creeping up his
face under his tan when he realized what he had said.

Mrs. Arundel, who giggled into her napkin, saved the situation. Her husband
gave her a dirty look and then looked at his boys. "Cory's powers of
description aside, the matter is further complicated by the fact that the
boy lives in Married Quarters at Uplands Aerodrome. The Ottawa City Police
have no authority there, and I am sure the Military Police would not
appreciate any interference in matters they consider to be their
jurisdiction."

"So, you won't do anything?" asked Todd.

Justice Arundel looked at his wife. He loved his sons dearly, and would do
anything for them. She looked at him questioningly, glanced at her sons,
and then nodded imperceptibly. "I did not say that, Todd," replied Justice
Arundel. "I will do what I can, which, to be truthful, is very little. I
will make enquiries with the authorities, but unless Matt is willing to
make a statement, or his injuries are so horrendous that he requires
hospitalization . . ." he finished lamely.

"He won't talk," said Cory sadly. "When we asked him to tell us about it he
threatened to hitch a ride back to The Barracks.  He won't make a
statement."

Justice Arundel nodded. "I've seen it before. He's torn between his natural
love for his family and his hatred of his father. If he tells what his
father does to him, he'll be hurting the family.  Still, I will do what I
can."

The Twins brightened a little.

"Now then, cheer up, the pair of you," exclaimed Justice Arundel with a
jollity he did not feel, "and finish your dinner. I'll treat you to a
brandy in the lounge and you can tell me all about the envelopes that your
mother gave you."

******

Greg heard The Twins getting up and going into the bathroom. Presently he
heard the shower running, and smiled knowingly. The Twins would be occupied
for the next while, if he knew Cory and Todd. He pulled back from Harry and
propped himself on one elbow, gazing fondly at the sleeping youth who had
brought him so much pleasure. Greg wasn't all that sure what he was
feeling. He did know that he did not in the least feel guilty. He'd been
horny, Harry had been horny, and making it with Harry, who was, in Greg's
mind, the epitome of teenage male straightness, had been unique and very,
very, pleasurable. He also knew that if at any time within the next two
weeks Harry wanted a replay, he would have it.

With his free hand Greg reached down and felt his morning woody, which was
still tender from their lovemaking. Then he lifted up the covers and looked
down at Harry's body. The Pride of the Fleet was quietly resting against
Harry's thigh.

Harry's legs were slightly spread and, fascinated, Greg watched as Harry's
large balls (the left one hanging slightly lower than the right) rose and
fell ever so slightly as he breathed. As he watched, Harry's soft dick
twitched then began to lengthen and thicken until it lay straight up his
stomach. Greg could see the thick vein that ran along the underside of
Harry's dick and noticed that his dark-brown, curly pubic hair thinned and
curled around and under, circling the base of Harry's thick cock.

Harry stirred slightly as Greg ran his finger down the length of his
erection and his breathing quickened as Greg lowered his head and took as
much of Harry's thick seven inches into his mouth as he could. Greg
shuffled a little closer to Harry and his right hand gripped the base of
Harry's iron-hard dick. As he moved his head up and down on Harry's shaft,
Greg began to roll and pull on Harry's balls with his left hand.

The room was still, the silence broken only by the faint sound of the
shower running in the bathroom and Harry's heavy breathing. As Greg sucked
avidly Harry moaned softly and his breathing became heavier. He began to
slowly thrust his hips upward into Greg's warm, encompassing mouth, turning
slowly as he rolled slightly on his side, giving Greg full access to his
jerking cock and tightening balls.

Greg responded by moving his body as close as he could to Harry's and began
humping his rock-hard boner against Harry's leg, feeling massive jolts of
electricity course through his body as his penis crossed and recrossed the
rough hairs on Harry's legs. As Greg sucked harder and harder an
intoxicating musk rose from Harry's body, and Greg began pivoting his
mouth, using his tongue to lap over and around the head of Harry's dick. He
was determined to give Harry's the best blowjob he had ever had. He felt
Harry's broad hand gently hold the back of his head as he began to pump his
pulsing dick in and out of his mouth.

Harry's breathing became harsh and from deep within his throat a great moan
began building. He opened his legs wider and thrust harshly upward as the
strangled moan burst from him and his cock spasmed.

Greg felt Harry's dick explode in his mouth, sending eruption after
eruption of his seed over Greg's tongue. As the first of Harry's thick,
creamy juice filled his mouth, Greg convulsed and he thrust viciously
against Harry's leg as one of the most vigorous orgasms he had ever had
engulfed him.

Greg continued to suck on Harry, his tongue and lips cleaning his softening
dick until Harry pulled away, his body limp. "Wow," gasped Harry, "now that
is what I call a proper Wakey-Wakey."

Greg rolled away from Harry, lay on his back, and laughed softly. He felt
Harry's hand cross his thigh and then squeeze his almost soft dick. "You
want me to do you?" asked Harry as he thumbed Greg's helmet, shiny and
thick with his own semen.

Still basking in the afterglow of his own orgasm Greg shook his head. "Too
late, I already came. Thanks anyway."

Harry reached down and felt the warm stickiness on his knee and upper
thigh. "You sure did," he grinned.

"You're no slouch yourself," returned Greg, running his tongue along
Harry's smooth, slim lips.

Harry chuckled and got out of bed. He reached down and, using one of the
pair of soiled briefs that lay on the floor, he cleaned his leg and
crotch. He reached into his kit bag and pulled out a pair of gym shorts and
a clean T-shirt. He pulled on the gym shorts and slipped the T-shirt over
his head and down his torso. As he leaned over to find his sneakers Harry
glanced obliquely at Greg. "I guess we better think about some breakfast,"
he said pleasantly. "There is no point in hanging around waiting for The
Twins to finish showering."

For a moment Greg felt a flash of anger. Harry could have at least thanked
him for the blowjob. Then he intuitively realized that Harry was merely
obeying the unwritten Code of the Straight Teenage Male Who Had Just Found
A Fuck Buddy. What they had just done, what they had done last night, was
not to be spoken of, or alluded to in any way. The Code dictated that if it
were not spoken about, it had not happened. They would not speak of it
until the next time they were together, possibly not even then.

Greg crawled out of bed, watching Harry's broad back and wonderfully firm
butt as he bent down to clear away some of their laundry that littered the
deck. He smiled. "But there will be a next time, Harry," he thought, "And
you can bank on it."