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.
Dean, my friend and editor, has edited this work.
Any reader wishing to be added to a mailing list for future works may contact
the author at: mariner23502@hotmail.com
§
Canadian Forces Base,
It was mid June, and our squadron was finishing up its 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
* * * * * * * *
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. Crews 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
"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 him 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 "
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
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
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 flashback 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
"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
"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
"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 wristwatch even though the
public address announcer had all but said it was almost
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. Surprisingly,
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
"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
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
"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."
* * * * * * * * *
Glossary of Terms
XO = Executive Officer
Ptown =