Canadian Sailor
Copyright 2005
By Lee Mariner

This is an ADULT gay fantasy depicting homosexual acts and situations.  If this type of material offends you or should you not be of legal age in your locality to be reading this fictional story, please leave.

The author holds the exclusive copyright to this story, and all Rights are reserved.  It is assigned to the Nifty Archives for posting under the provisions of their submission guidelines.  It is not to be posted on any other web site, published, duplicated or reproduced without the specific written permission of the author.

This work has been edited by Dean, my friend and editor.  

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Canadian Forces Base, Halifax, Nova Scotia

It was mid June, and our squadron was finishing up it's assignment in the NATO annual North Atlantic Fleet Operations.  At the start of the operations, our skipper had told us that when we were detached, the best part of the operation would be a good will call with our Canadian counterparts.  Most of the single sailors and very likely more than a few of the married men were looking forward to spending a long weekend in Halifax, Nova Scotia.  Quite a few of the married men were not happy that we weren't going on to our home port in Newport, Rhode Island, but as always there were a few who didn't mind.   We had been at sea for almost three weeks, and they were probably just as horny as the single men were.   I know that I didn't mind the lay over.  My cock got hard thinking about sex, and a change from the usual Boston or Providence haunts would be nice.  Gay bars in New England were still not very comfortable for gays, and for a gay sailor to be caught in one could mean the end of his career with the navy.

                                                                     * * * * * * * *
The  HMCS Vancouver was assigned as our host, and we followed her into the Halifax Harbor en route to our berths at the Canadian Forces Stadacona Base piers.   Several Canadian sailors, wearing lacquered white caps and dressed in dark blue short sleeve tunic style work uniforms with khaki colored canvas leggings and web belts, were in position at the various bollards and heavy cleats in readiness to assist with the docking when the ship's mooring lines were pulled to the pier.   Two men similarly dressed but with large chevrons on their sleeves were barking orders as our ship slowly moved closer to the pier.  A crew of good-looking sailors were positioning fenders between the ship's sides and the pier to avoid any damage to the ship or the pier.  Every now and then, I'd get an exciting look at the elongated outline of impressive bulges, hidden by dark blue uniform cloth, in the sailors' crotches as they would unconsciously thrust their well packed groins forward arching and straining their backs under the weight of the fender to hold it in place as the ship moved closer.  Two men were assigned to each of the fenders; and, as horny as I was, it was erotically exciting to see them straining, their biceps bulging and the veins in their thick muscular forearms protruding as they worked. I was so damned horny from fantasizing about burying my cock to the hilt in a hard muscled ass or deep throat that my balls ached in anticipation.

Just as my men finished tying off the spring line, I heard Chief Petty Officer Clarkson's gruff voice behind me. "Milner, Gorham's got the first quarterdeck watch, and he's down below changing into his dress whites. I'll be using his crew to secure the gangway; and, while that is being done, your crew will have to put the rat guards on the mooring lines. Just make sure that you have them placed far enough away from the pier so the Old Man doesn't have a fit about them being too close; you know how he feels about rats on board his ship."

"Yeah, Chief, I'll make sure it's done; but did you say Gorham was changing into his dress whites to stand watch, and not his undress?" I asked, puzzled by what Clarkson had said about the uniforms.   "What's with the dress, and not the undress, like we usually wear?"

"Christ, Milner, you don't need to be a fucking rocket scientist to figure that one out." He exclaimed, looking furtively around him as he cursed under his breath.  "He wants to impress our Canadian buddies while we are here, and that is another reason you better be sure the rat guards are secure and served properly or it's your ass."

"Damn, Chief," I groaned rolling my eyes expressively even though I knew the reasons. "I thought this was supposed to be an R&R visit."

"For the officers it always is." He growled under his breath, looking around again to be sure he had not been overheard as he continued. "If it will make you feel any better, the XO told me that the Old Man is granting the off duty sections early liberty as soon as the ship is squared away; and you, you lucky bastard, I don't know how you managed it, but you're off duty while we are here.  So get your ass in gear." He said gruffly, as he moved away.

"Okay, guys, you heard him." I called out loudly,  grinning at Clarkson's puzzled comment as I turned to my crew and said.   "Let's get to it."

* * * * * * * *

While the rat guards were being installed, I had the chance to look over what, for the most part was just another stark military base except for the men's uniforms, the directional signs and the various building designations.  There was a light blue Chevrolet pickup truck with the red Canadian Maple Leaf emblazoned on the door over the words "Inport Duty Transport" parked on the opposite side of the dock from where we had tied up.  A good looking and, judging from the fit of his uniform, obviously well built, sandy haired sailor was leaning nonchalantly against the right front fender. He was wearing a spotless white uniform with blue piping and his white lacquered cap was slightly askew.  He had his legging covered legs extended in front of him and crossed at the ankles displaying a very large, prominent bulge in his crotch that would have been impossible to miss even in the dark. 

He had his arms crossed over his broad chest and was smoking a cigarette while he watched the activity involved in tying the ships to the dock. At first glance, he seemed to be more interested in watching his mates at work instead of what was going on elsewhere until he saw me looking at him, even though I tried to avoid being caught by quickly averting my gaze while wondering if he had detected my interest.   He had.

Flicking the rim of his cap in a not too covert salute of recognition, he ground his cigarette butt under his heel and walked toward me. One hand was casually rearranging his family jewels and obviously large cock as he walked, and I felt my cock tingling and swelling.
I wasn't sure whether he had or had not seen the effect that his seemingly casual and innocent movement to be comfortable as he was walking toward me had had on me, but my heart beat increased as he approached.  I felt the hairs on the nape of my neck rise sharply and I had the feeling that someone was watching from on deck.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw one of my young sailors sweeping the after section of the amidships deck with his back to me and, I recognized the broad back of Marty Hobard, one of the sailors that had been recently assigned to my  division when the second division was divided to make three deck divisions instead of two. I was probably being a little paranoid but, I was sure no one could make anything out of my standing, working a monkey line while I supervised my crew doing their assigned tasks. 

Breathing a little easier, I quickly pushed it out of my mind as I turned around facing the direction this gorgeous Canadian hunk was walking from. Seeing me move slightly to my left giving me a clearer view of just how gorgeous he was, he grinned broadly as he quickened his pace.   Breathing in quickly and gulping nervously, I started to speak when he stopped few feet in front of me; and, hooking his thumbs behind his web belt with his fingers splayed over his flat pelvis, he said, "What's up, Yank, you blokes going to be in for long?"

His directness caught me off guard; and for a moment I was stupefied, my mind whirling, trying to adjust to the handsome young man standing in front of me while searching for an answer to his question.  His unblemished countenance was square jawed and cleanly shaven, and his teeth were brilliantly white and even.  Golden flecks danced in the depths of his hazel eyes, and I had a feeling that he was enjoying my discomfort at having been accosted so directly.

"Maybe until next Tuesday, but you never can tell; they might change their minds, and hopefully we'll be here longer." I answered, recovering my composure and looking him in the eyes, playing my own word game as my fingers fidgeted with the monkey line that I had been working with when he started toward me and was using it in a half-assed attempt at covering the impression of my half hard cock.

"That's the same way with our navy."  He replied glancing down at my fidgeting fingers; and then, slowly teasingly moving the extended fingers of his hand over his even more pronounced bulge.  He looked at me, an impish smile playing at the corners of his full succulent lips; and his golden hazel eyes twinkled as he said, "Maybe, if you haven't been here before and if you want to, we can hook up later when you are off duty; and I'll show you around Halifax so you can see what we have to offer."

"That sounds like a good idea unless I'm putting you out; our skipper has authorized early shore leave as soon as the ship is secured." I answered picking up on his "we have to offer" comment, my "gaydar" kicking in as I watched the movement of his eyes checking me out.  "I'll probably come ashore a little later this afternoon. Probably about four-thirty or so after I get my crew squared away."

"That'll be great." He exclaimed, the tip of his tongue moistening his lips as he spoke. "I thought I was going to be hooked into staying on duty when the word came that you guys were coming in with the Vancouver, but our second Looie told us it wouldn't affect us since she was your host ship." He replied, breathing in deeply and exhaling softly as he waited for a response.

"Host ship." I chuckled.  "That only means her officers and ours will get together on board her since you guys have booze aboard and we don't."

"The Queen and your President will be toasted in style, but I think we can improve international relations just as well as they can." He replied as he extended his hand, his captivating eyes twinkling mischievously, as he said,  "My name is Andrew Borntrager, but most blokes call me Andy."

"I'm Pete, short for Peter Milner." I said, looking deep into his eyes and returning his strong firm grip as we shook hands. Shaking hands with another man can do many things and, in many cases, can be the foundation of a lasting relationship or the immediate failure depending on the person. Andy's grip was strong and firm, relaying a sense of security within himself and a sensuous feeling of excitement.  I had felt it before when shaking hands with someone whose eyes and the aura surrounding him revealed that he was not afraid of going after what he wanted.

"It's nice meeting you, Pete."  He replied softly, almost seductively, his eyes holding mine, our hands gripping a nano-second or two longer than usual.

 "Ditto, Andy." I responded a little flippantly as we released each other's hand.  "We've been at sea for the five weeks, and I hope you have more on your mind than sightseeing."

His eyes lit up at the subtle sexual inflection in my voice, and the golden flecks flashed in their hazel depths. His brilliant white teeth flashed as he smiled impishly, breathing in deeply and flattening his stomach before exhaling and saying, "Well now, that depends on what you want, Pete; my second Looie said we were to help you blokes out while your ship is in port. I've been told that I'm pretty good at helping people with their problems." He replied, grinning as he straightened up and pulled down on his tunic displaying the defined contours of his chest muscles and the flatness of his abdomen and pelvis.

"I'll bet you are." I said to myself, looking him in the eye as I deliberately rearranged my cock and balls to give him a better look as I said.  "I had better get my men back onboard, Andy, I'll be looking for you at the bus stop at the head of the pier." I said huskily, confirming our date and watching the twinkle in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Keep your eye out for a dark green Ford with a white hardtop, Pete." He said, winking at me as I turned toward my men who were gathering at the gangway with their equipment.

After giving my men instructions for cleaning the fore deck, I feigned checking the rat guards fore and aft just in case Clarkson asked me if I had.  Andy had moved back to his truck; and when he saw me looking over the side, he moved his fingers in a subtle wave.  There were too many people gathering on the quarterdeck for me to wave back, and I settled for cockily resetting my "Dixie cup" on my head. It must have worked since he did the same thing before getting into his truck.

When we had finished the assignments that Clarkson had given us, I dismissed my crew; and, before going below, I glanced over the side to see whether Andy's truck was still parked on the dock; but it was gone.  For a few minutes a pang of uncertainty passed through me, and I had second thoughts about his showing up at the bus stop.  It wouldn't have been the first time that some hot number had promised a meeting and then not shown up.  Andy didn't give me the impression that he was that type when we were surreptitiously checking each other out, and the sensation of desire and excitement flooded over me as I tried to envision what was suggestively hinted at but covered by his tight fitting uniform.

                                                                      * * * * * * * * 

The berthing compartment was bedlam filled with laughing, joking, half-naked and naked men jostling each other as they prepared to go ashore.  I had plenty of time to clean up and dress before meeting Andy; and, while the head was filled with ribald joking, grab-assing men, I hung back and went over some of the local information that the quarterdeck messenger had brought in and dropped on the tables.  There was a lot of information about historical tours, highlights of Halifax, recreational soccer fields, swimming pools for officers and enlisted men, and a short base bus schedule with an outlined map showing the locations of the stops by number.
I was sitting shirtless away from the noise on a large pipe that ran through the compartment engrossed in trying to locate information about off station pubs when I heard my name being called, and I looked up to see Marty Hobard standing in front of me pulling a towel tightly around his waist.

"Sorry, Marty," I responded, still not sure what he has been saying. "I didn't hear you."

"I didn't mean to bother you, Pete, but I was wondering...,"  he started, sucking his gut in and hesitating as he nonchalantly tucked the end of his damp towel between it and the firm flesh just below his ribs, innocently revealing a discernible bulge.  "Do you know of any places where we can go for some fun while we're here?"

Marty Hobard was the typical wholesome, good-looking, all American, innocent eighteen-year-old kid who was fresh off an Iowa farm. Like many farm boys, he was beautifully tanned and muscled from working outside; and that hard work had developed beautifully proportioned  muscles on his six-foot maybe one hundred sixty-five pound frame. His chest was broad, and the pectoral muscles were hard and defined with each dark brown nipple surrounded by large salmon pink aureoles. His light brown hair was filled with blond highlights, and his azure blue eyes were very expressive, reacting to his emotions whether he was listening or speaking.  

I knew lots of gay guys who would have loved to take him under their wings; but, even though he was legal in civilian life, in the military trying to make it with him could result in a very slippery slope to disaster regardless of his age.  After seeing what it had done to the careers of a couple of men, I reluctantly kept my distance from the youngsters, legal aged or not, relying on Molly Palm and Her Five Sisters for personal pleasure, I contented my self with enjoying the myriad selection of eye candy when we were at sea. 

"I'm sorry, Hobard, this is my first time here; but I'm sure there are lots of places you and the other guys can go." I said, answering his question and diverting my eyes from the pronounced bulge in the middle of his towel. I knew what was under the towel, having seen Marty in the showers several times; and while I hadn't seen him actually make what might be considered an effort to show himself off, he didn't seem to mind anyone seeing his impressive uncut cock.  "There are some more of these pamphlets on the quarterdeck, and they show where a lot of things are on and off of the base." I said, handing him the information pamphlet that I had been looking at.

"I guess so, but I was kind of hoping that, if you didn't have any plans, we could go ashore together, look around and maybe find a good restaurant or something." He said softly, glancing at the front and back of the pamphlet as he absentmindedly rearranged the bulge under his towel with his free hand by lifting his balls and letting them fall free.

Marty's nonchalantly rearranging his equipment brought a quick flash-back of Andy doing the same thing to get my attention.  A quick glance at Marty's towel covered jewels revealed that from handling his cock and balls the impression seemed to have increased in girth.  Swallowing quickly and glancing away, I attempted, with little success, a fruitless effort to prevent my cock from hardening while trying at the same time to dispel from my mind the vivid image of what its true size would be as compared to the size that Andy had displayed.

"I appreciate being asked, Marty, but I've already made other arrangements." I replied, glancing into his eyes as I dragged my shirt and t-shirt across my lap to hide the state my cock was in from the excitement of envisioning what he and Andy might have in common as I said. "Maybe we can make a liberty together in Boston or PTown when we are home."

"PTown would be great." He exclaimed, vividly increasing the impression of his obviously hard cock hanging under his damp towel as he leaned back against the tier of bunks behind him and placed one foot on the rail of the bottom bunk. Any thoughts of his innocence disappeared when he rested his hand over his cock and said in a seductively husky tone, "I've been there a couple of times."

Checking the compartment to be sure we weren't being observed, I looked at Marty leaning casually against the bunks across from me before standing and tossing my shirt and t-shirt on my bunk.   "Maybe we can make PTown for a weekend liberty when we get back?" I said softly, breathing in deeply and deliberately adjusting my cock.

Looking around quickly as I had, Marty's eyes dropped down to my crotch as I stood revealing the long thick bulge resting across my left hip joint.  That might be fun, Pete." He replied, glancing around a little nervously, and squeezing his cock as he rubbed his other hand over his nipples inhaling deeply as he lifted his lust filled eyes to mine, and asked almost plaintively, "Are you sure about going ashore?"

I moved away from the pipe and, retrieving the pamphlet from where Marty had dropped it on the middle bunk, stood closer to where he was leaning against my bunk and acted like I was reading it.  He turned toward me, crossing his ankles and leaning his left shoulder against the top bunk. He was breathing heavily, his magnificently sculpted chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to gently squeeze his cock and moving his free hand over his erect nipples, and the hard flatness of his stomach, his fingers playing with the silky golden treasure trail that disappeared into the folds of the taut towel.  Double checking the compartment, I whispered, "Easy, Marty Boy, easy. Stop groping yourself or you're going to have an accident, and stop acting like a dog in heat or we both will be in big trouble."

"B...but, I thought...y... you might," he started when I glared at him, cutting him off.

"No, Marty, you aren't thinking right now, you are acting and that is bad." I said in a serious tone. "We both know that if we go ashore together, sooner or later someone is going to say something about it, and it only takes one or two wagging tongues to get a real mess started for both of us.  While you are thinking about that, Marty, think about what will happen if someone comes down that ladder or in through the main deck hatch, and catches a half naked first class petty officer with a hard-on talking to a young, all but naked, seaman whose cock is just as hard, and neither one of us wants that, do we?"

"Jesus, no," He croaked nervously, suddenly releasing his cock and sucking his gut in as he tightened his towel around his waist and straightened up.  "I'm sorry as hell, Pete, and I'm not really sure why I was thinking the way I was or even if I might have been right.  But, but I saw the way you and that good-looking Canadian sailor were talking and looking each other, and I had a strong hunch that maybe I was right." He said softly, looking at me with just the hint of hope in his eyes.

"I know the reasons, Marty, and you are closer to being right than you realize but this is a hell of a time to start discussing it." I said, winking at him quickly as I once again handed him the pamphlet.  "Maybe we can talk about it after we get home; but, right now, you better get dressed for chow unless you're going to eat ashore."

For a brief moment, Marty brightened at my suggestion, and then became crestfallen when he realized that I had more or less terminated the conversation leaving an opening for later exploration.  His fingers played with the pamphlet as he realized that his hopes were for the present, dashed by the voice of reality.  I have to admit to being flattered that he was so much interested in me that he took a chance to reveal his feelings even though he had only a hint that he might be right. I stood watching him and looking around the compartment to detect any movement by any of the other men toward where we were when he spoke.

"According to the pamphlet, Pete,  there is an enlisted ratings movie theater on the base," he said smiling and breathing in deeply as he calmed down. "After chow, I'll see if Petersen wants to go with me."

"Petersen?" I asked in a surprised tone hesitating as I reached to open my locker.

"Yeah," Marty answered, smiling mischievously. "All he thinks about is computers and movies."

Recalling the nerdy image I had of Petersen from seeing him when I was on the bridge and the very recent revelation of Marty's feelings, I asked cautiously. "Is that all he thinks about?"

"Pretty much so, Pete.  He doesn't talk about girls, and he's never said anything about having a girl friend at least not when I've been ashore with him." He answered rolling his eyes and leaning toward me as he whispered. "I don't think he even jerks off; and, whenever we've been in the head together, he closes the curtain and turns toward the back of the shower so no one can see him."

"All men jerk off, Marty." I said quietly as I opened my locker.  "Even Petersen."

"I know we do, Pete, but I'm not sure about Petersen." Marty said, covering his mouth, and chuckling to himself as he moved behind me, his shoulder accidentally rubbing against my back as he passed me in order to turn toward where his locker was located on the other side of the compartment.

Waves of excitement coursed through me from his firm satiny soft flesh touching mine, and I was strongly tempted to turn and watch as he removed his towel and dressed.  But, I resisted, conjuring up visions of a naked Andy and what I hoped we would be doing later.  Tying a towel around my waist, I was stuffing my dirty clothing into my laundry bag when the ship's public address system blared, "The mess hall will open in five minutes for early chow for watch standee's.  Regular chow will be served at five o'clock."

"Everyone knows that," I thought as I jerked the laundry bag shut, looking up as I heard Marty call out.

"I'll see you later, Pete." Marty said cheerfully as he left the compartment. 

"Sure thing, Marty." I answered, hanging my laundry bag up and searching in my locker for my wrist watch even though the public address announcer had all but said it was almost four thirty in the afternoon. "Damn," I said, cursing mildly under my breath and glancing quickly at my watch.  "I told Andy that I'd meet him at the bus stop at around four thirty, and it's damn near that now."

Grabbing my toilet kit, I slipped my shower sandals on and rushed to the head grateful that it was empty.

                                                                       * * * * * * * * *

Gorham had returned from chow and was adjusting his standard issue forty-five automatic around his waist as I approached and asked for permission to leave the ship.  "Granted." He said without looking up; and, for a brief moment, I thought about chewing his ass out for not checking who was leaving the ship. But remembering I was late, I let it pass.  As I saluted the national ensign and was heading down the gangway he spoke, "Check out the watering holes, Milner, and let me know what the action is like."

"That's just like Gorham," I thought turning to look back at him as I reached the end of the gangway.  "Booze and women, Gorham.  Don't you ever think of anything else?" 

"What else is there?" He exclaimed, answering my question with a lecherous leer on his face.

"Oh, Lord," I thought as I stepped off the gangway, restraining the answer I would like to have been able to give instead of answering. "If you don't know by now, you never will."

"You'll have to show me sometime," He called out as I proceeded in the direction of the bus stop booth.

Charlie Gorham was not a bad looking sort.  He was about five-feet eight or so inches tall with a small boned but leanly muscled build.  He had dark brown hair and eyes and probably weighed around one hundred fifty pounds or so.  He was in a different division from mine, so I hadn't seen him naked but every now and then there would be a slight bulge in his crotch.  His best feature, from what I could see, was a tight ass that seemed to beg for someone to fill it with a hot eight-inch cock.  I could recall a couple of so called straight heterosexuals who wanted it badly after they cried the blues to anyone who would listen about not getting any from their old ladies. It only took a drink of two and some lecherous and suggestive conversation before, acting like they had never done it with a man, they were on their bellies pushing their asses up and spreading their cheeks as soon as they hit the sheets.  It had been my experience that the more some guys talked about getting sex, the less they got, and Gorham impressed me as being that type. Under different circumstances it would have been fun to find out, but I ignored his loaded query, and without turning around, I waved my hand over my head.

A couple of off duty personnel who were leaning over the ship's forward railings made ribald remarks as I was passing about being careful and not getting any on me if I got lucky. I gave them a good natured one-finger salute and in return received the same along with a raucous laugh and a few more lascivious remarks about what to do with the female anatomy.

The bus stop was empty when I reached it.  The sun was hovering above the horizon, reluctant to surrender to the encroaching darkness, and a small wattage overhead light was making a feeble attempt at illuminating the semi-dark interior, revealing a narrow bench built into the back wall.  The bench didn't seemed to have been cleaned in quite awhile, and I wasn't about to clean it with the seat of my white uniform pants.  Suprisingly, there were several near pornographic figures with English and French captions and writing that had been drawn on the walls.  I couldn't help but think about how many of the same that I had seen in public men's rest rooms from Boston to Key West and from Philadelphia to San Francisco.  The thought of people and the practice of sexual fantasies being the same everywhere was on my mind when I was startled by the sound of an automobile horn behind me.

"Christ, Andy," I said, jumping slightly. 

"I'm sorry, Old Man; but you didn't turn around as I drove up." He replied, as he leaned over and opened the car door, pushing it outward.

"I was engrossed in admiring some of the work of your local artists." I replied as I sat on the seat and swung my legs up into the car before pulling the door shut.

"Drawing pictures is the only way some fags have of expressing what they want, Pete." He said, quickly brushing the subject aside and  looking at me inquisitively, as he stepped on the accelerator and asked. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Only a few minutes," I said turning sideways to look at him but was surprised at a sudden feeling of nervousness at his off-handed use of the term "fags."

"I was a tad late getting off duty."  He replied matter of factly, hesitating as he breathed in deeply before continuing his explanation.  "Damned Looie thinks we are a bunch of kids, and he wanted to warn everybody about being on their good behavior while you guys are here before he let us off."

"He was covering his bases, Andy, we have the same thing." I responded as I admired his extremely masculine features in the dim light of the dashboard.

* * * * * * * * *

He was dressed in fashionable civilian clothing. His sculpted torso was covered with a tight black collarless pullover. The cloth was molded to his cleanly defined pectoral breast muscles with their sharply displayed nipples teasingly jutting out.  His uniform had been form fitting but, not to the extent of the clothing he was wearing.  The shirt flowed over washboard abdominal muscles into the waistband of his khaki Docker trousers, and the dash lights revealed an even more impressive and obviously hard bulge extending several inches down the right inside of his thighs.

My swollen cock was crammed in my briefs screaming to be freed, and my mind was conjuring erotic fantasies enhanced by tantalizing thoughts of what was being covered by his tight clothing when he dropped his hand on empty space between us and asked, "Is there a reason that you're sitting on the other side of the seat?"

"No there isn't; but, I'm not that forward, Andy." I replied. 

"That's cool, Pete, but right now we need your military identification card," He said, glancing at me with an impish twinkle in his eyes and nodding out the windshield.  "We gotta let Canada know who you are."

As he was slowing to a stop for the gate, I fished my ID card from my wallet, and he handed his and mine to the civilian gate guard.  As the guard was checking them over, he glanced at both of us before asking in a bland conversational tone, "Are you Yanks going to be here very long?"

"Only for a couple of days, Jerry." Andy answered, extending his hand for our ID cards.

"Have a nice visit, but don't tear the town up like the last bloody bunch of your mates who were here." The guard said as Andy pulled away.

"Don't let him get under your skin, Pete, it makes no difference who it was; the bloody Halifaxers never forget." He said in an exasperated tone, looking into the rearview mirror as he spoke. "The incident he was griping about was over five years ago, and they were Canadian marines and soldiers in a combined exercise with our navy.  There were only a few of your officers serving as observers and umpires of the games."

"Aren't you from Halifax, Andy." I asked as I lifted my ass, pulling my pants down to give my cock some relief.

"Not me," he answered, chuckling and glancing at what I was doing with a twinkle in his eyes.  "My home is a little southwest of Victoria on the west coast in British Columbia, and in two years, I'll be back there."

"I've never been out that way," I said as I moved closer to him. Sliding my arm over the seat back behind his broad shoulders, I leaned closer, and blew gently in his ear.

Slowing the car, he turned his head; and, looking into my eyes he said, "It took you long enough."

As I moved my hand over his hard muscled chest and down into his crotch, he inhaled deeply, shuddering as he exhaled;  and I said, "I told you that I wasn't forward."

"You can make up for it after we get inside," He said as he swung off the street, switching the lights and engine off as he pulled to a stop in a covered parking area.  "My flat is up one flight if you can wait that long."

                                                                    * * * * * * * * * 
Glossery if Terms

XO = Executive Officer
Ptown = Provincetown, Rhode Island.