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First Time At Sea
by Will (volatw@aol.com)
***
John, a British seaman, is taught the ways of men in
cadet training, turned over to a ship's mate at sea.
Sole survivor on a freighter sunk by a German attack in
WWII, he is used more in a German prison as a POW. His
adult son, offspring of his coupling with a nurse while
in hospital, follows in his father's footsteps. Nigel,
the son, brings a special friend to his father's house.
John tells his story to Robert, the friend. Nigel and
Robert enjoy each other, then John. (MM, inc, 1st-gay-
expr, mast, oral, anal, bd, v, tor)
***
Author Note: This is a historical and somewhat
fictional story. The basic story was told to me over
several days by an old man I met in England through his
son. I met the son, Nigel, on a scuba diving trip in
the Mediterranean. We became close friends, and I
accepted an invitation to visit him in England. The
story involves sex between men. So the usual
disclaimers and copyright apply. The beginning of the
story is that of the old man, John, told by him in the
first person as he told it to me. Quote marks are
avoided in the main since his tale is a rather long
monologue.]
First Time At Sea
Enjoying some gin at the local pub while Nigel was out
buying a pig for us to roast that evening, John
loosened up and started talking as I ordered him
another gin and a third pint for me:
Well Robert I know you and Nigel have become more than
just friends. He never invites anyone to visit with him
unless they are special to him, like you, and he
certainly never brings them to visit with me. You must
be particularly special to him since he has brought you
from his home in Falmouth to visit me here in
Southampton. (Closeted at the time, I was glad the
barmaid brought his gin and my pint to our table just
at that moment. I hoped this might distract him from a
line of conversation that was making me uncomfortable
already. However he continued although apparently
noticing my discomfort.)
Oh don't be a silly twit. You young men are just doing
what comes natural. Nigel takes after his old man in
more ways than our love for the sea. He enjoys the
company of a man like you just as much as I did in my
younger days. (I took a deep swallow of my beer as he
sipped his gin - neat, no ice, vermouth or mix - and
continued.)
Nigel has told me that you are a writer as well as a
boater, scuba diver and explorer of antiquities. At my
advanced age, I want to tell you my story. I have never
told anyone else the full story, not even Nigel, and I
swear you to secrecy with him right now. Perhaps you
shall write about it. It should be told as it is a real
survival miracle. (He clinked his glass of gin against
my pint, and I nodded. He apparently took that as
sealing the secrecy deal and perhaps even this
writing.)
My father was a seaman from right here in Southampton.
He joined the merchant marine during WWI, and I was
born in 1919 from his coupling with my mother, a
Frenchwoman, whom he never married. I lived with him
and saw many mates, most of them sailors like him,
coming to share his bed as I grew to adulthood.
Following in his footsteps I joined the merchant marine
in 1940 at age 21 during WWII. I had worked on the
docks and knew my way around ships, and the men who
crewed them.
While in training with the merchant marine one of the
older instructors took a fancy to me. I was a handsome,
strapping young man, muscular, well-tanned, long hair
and given to the pints, rum and gin. He invited me and
I thought several of my mates to join him at the pub
after the last class one Saturday. We had Sunday off
from training.
When I arrived I was the only sea cadet with him. I
asked him about the others. His answer was rather
vague, but we proceeded to have a good old time
quaffing down the drinks and sporting with the bar
wench, him pinching her butt and even copping a feel of
her ample breasts lifted up and showing much flesh at
the top of her open blouse.
In no time I was more than a bit tipsy, practically
pissed, and showing a hard crank in my sailor work
pants. He took the conversation to the joys of boffing
that wench, further exciting me. Then to my surprise he
reached under our table and grasped my excited tool. In
my beer, rum and gin-inspired state I opened my legs to
give him more room. He moved his hand up and down on my
hard, pulsing, soon leaking willy.
I wanted the wench, any wench, for that matter any
warm, wet hole to relieve my balls so full of cum. I
realized I was way past too drunk to make a play for
the wench. I told him I had to go now, back to the
barracks, intending to snag one of the street whores or
go to one of the several houses where they catered to
horny sailors like me. Matching words to action I stood
up from my chair. More pissed than I knew, I reeled
backwards, knocking over the chair and falling onto my
arse on the floor.
My instructor, superior, leader, all blurry in my eyes
now, was standing over me, bending down and helping me
to my feet. The bartender was there with him, helping
me stand unsteadily. You're too drunk to go back to the
barracks, my instructor told me. My flat is right here
above the bar. Come, let's go put you to bed there, let
you sleep it off for the night.
Oh, I remember grinning at him sillily and protesting
no. He and the barkeep were not taking no for an
answer. The two of them guided me to the back of the
pub, up the stairs and into my instructor's flat. They
undressed me completely and laid me naked on the sofa
in the living room. The bartender left saying something
about being back later with more of the gents.
I lolled on the couch my head swimming while the
instructor covered me with a quilt against the wet
chill of our typical, merry old England without
sufficient heat in his little, upstairs apartment. The
instructor walked away and left me alone. I heard water
splashing as he washed himself, then me with a rather
rough cloth on my bollocks, bum and still hard dick.
Then everything went black.
I was asleep, I was sure, dreaming. Such a pleasant
dream. The bar wench had my cock in her mouth. She was
sucking it, bobbing her head up and down, drawing
tightly on it with her lips. I stirred a bit, pushing
my lower body up and down, sliding my rod in and out of
her mouth. I felt her hands on my bollocks and her
finger going in my back hole, her mouth still sucking
on me. Her hands were so rough, calloused, finger so
thick, suctioning mouth surrounded by a moustache and
beard.
Despite those realizations in my stupor I was so close
to spunking, I let it go. She swallowed, swallowed and
swallowed. I was awakening even more by then and knew
she had not swallowed all of my jism. I rolled onto my
side, my face against the back of the sofa, then onto
my stomach, my wet cock between me and the texture of
the couch. I felt the wench leave, her covering me now
face down with the quilt. I dozed off again.
Then she was back, the sofa sinking under her weight.
She laid on top of me. Lor' she's so heavy, I thought,
and hairy too. She swept my long hair to the side and
kissed me on the back of my neck, on my shoulders,
back. She twisted my head around and kissed my mouth,
feeding some of my own cum that she had saved into my
mouth for me to taste, feel and smell. She moved down,
kissing down my spine, lifted me by my hips, kissed,
licked and tongued my crack. She lifted my buttocks and
spread my cheeks wider tonguing in my bung. I got hard
again instantly and raised up holding my butt flesh
open for her to tongue my hole.
She tongued it for awhile, then I felt a cold, slick,
gelatinous mess smeared in my cleft and pushed with her
fingers, yes fingers this time, up my hole. I turned my
head to the right and saw a can of lard sitting on the
floor. Her hairy, calloused, big hand dipped into the
white cooking substance. I heard it squishing on what I
did not know. Then a real thick lubed finger was
presented to my lubed anal lense. It breached my
sphincter and surged right up into me, her pubic hairs
pressing into my crack.
"Aaaah, ooooh," I squealed.
"Yeah, baby, yell," a deep voice resounded into my ear,
teeth bit down on my earlobe. A strong hand held me
down.
"Oooooh," I yelled, coming fully awake. It was not her.
It had never been. It was my instructor driving his
long, thick, lubed cock in my rectum.
"Yes, cadet, take it. Take my big cock," my instructor
said loudly into my ear. "I'm fucking you in your
virgin bum. I'm gonna make you my man-pussy."
I was feeling so good as his hard rod slid back and
forth, in and out of me, only the fat knob clamped by
my ovaled hole as he pulled back and stroked hard back
into me burying it to my depths.
I started moving with him, raising and lowering my bum,
fucking back and forth on his cock as he pummeled my
man twat. His fat knob rode over my prostate, milking a
steady stream of clear juice out the slit of my again
hard cock. He reached around with that big, hairy,
calloused hand and stroked me as he fucked me.
Soon I was cumming all over the sofa. My anal muscles
flexed on his big tool as he pounded into me. I felt a
touch on the back of my head and raised up to look. The
bartender stood at the end of the sofa. He guided his
cock to my mouth and pushed it past my lips over my
tongue, to the back of my throat. Now being dicked fore
and aft and still wanked I shot another load.
My instructor filled my ass with his cum, his cock
throbbing, lurching up and down inside my man-cunt.
Remember this was 1940, long before HIV/AIDs, but well
within gonorrhea, syphillis, other diseases. I was
worried some, but feeling so good. I wanted more cock,
and more I was to get. Much more than I expected on
this first man-fucking.
My instructor got off me, pulling his cock out of my
hole with a juicy slurp. "Get him, Len," he said to the
bartender. Get back here and fuck his pussy. I've
busted his cherry. He's ready for all of us now."
Len, the barkeep, mounted and fucked me. He drove his
cock right into my sloppy, cum-filled, splayed open
hole. Another cock was presented to my mouth. I took it
in and sucked it. This went on until the roosters were
crowing, the sun rising. I have no idea how many loads
I took in my mouth, how many up my no longer virgin
ass. Aching, in my jaws, bum and head throbbing with a
hangover I was finally let alone, covered with the
quilt again. I slept the sleep of the dead.
When I awoke Sunday afternoon, my instructor was right
there with a cup of coffee braced with brandy. I sipped
it as he told me, I was his now for the rest of the
training period. I was not only his. I was also the
bartender's and male fuck whore for other men, anyone
the barkeep and my instructor wanted to use me. I did
not object. I enjoyed all the hot sex.
At the end of the training I was turned over by my
instructor to a boilers mate on the ship, a freighter
it was, to which I was assigned. We shipped out
carrying a load of war materials from England to North
Africa, the Middle East, positioning supplies for the
British forces. I was so far down the chain of command
I was not exactly sure where we were going. I knew only
that we were headed into the Mediterranean Sea.
[At that point Nigel returned from the pig buy. The pig
would be delivered to John's house in a few hours, and
we would cook it. John, not near as drunk as I thought
he might be stopped telling his story when Nigel
arrived at the pub. John, Nigel and I had a few more
rounds of drinks. We walked to John's house, roasted
the pig, prepared some accompaniments for the pork,
enjoyed a delicious meal, finished it off with coffee
and brandy, and went to bed - John in his room, Nigel
in the spare room, and me on the sofa in the living
room.
As I lay there trying to go to sleep thinking about
John's story so far, especially since I was on the
couch covered by a quilt, Nigel came to me. He kissed
me on the lips, took me by the hand and led me naked,
him the same, into his room, onto his bed, and we
sucked and fucked for half the night. John started his
story the next day where he had left off the afternoon
before. Nigel was out this morning checking on a
sailboat he was thinking about buying.]
Chapter 2
[John, Nigel's father, has told me about his rather
rough introduction to man-man sex while a cadet in
training for the British merchant marine fleet as a
sailor. He told me the beginning of his story while we
drank in a pub as Nigel was off buying a pig for us to
roast as dinner. Now John wanted his story told. He was
sharing it with me because he knew Nigel and I were
enjoying man-man sex together, and I was a writer,
boater, scuba diver and explorer of antiquities. I had
met Nigel on a scuba diving trip in the Mediterranean.
He and I had become special friends. I had joined him
at his invitation at his home in Falmouth, and gone to
visit his father in Southampton, England. Again, not a
superfluous use of quotes since John tells his story in
the first person. He picked up right where he had left
off the day before.
After cadet training for the merchant marine fleet
where he had been introduced to man-man sex by one of
his instructors and shared with the local pub keeper
and many of their friends, John was turned over by the
instructor to a boilers mate on a freighter. The
freighter was carrying a load of war materials from
England to North Africa, the Middle East through the
Mediterranean Sea, positioning supplies for the British
forces early in WWII. John was finally at sea as a
merchant marine and being tended to by the boilers
mate, a man much senior to him in both rank and age.]
Robert, John started right after a delicious and large
English breakfast and Nigel's departure to check on a
sailboat he was thinking of buying, I am going to
continue my story. I know you are interested. I don't
sleep much anymore at my age. I was awakened by you and
Nigel in his bed last night. I got so excited listening
to the two of you, my old cock even got hard. I tiptoed
to the doorway of Nigel's room and watched you through
the door. It was so delicious watching you two 69 and
fuck each other. I pulled my pud, wanked it, you know,
and shot off just a little bit. No longer like the big
loads I used to shoot. Just a bit of dribble.
So, we had shipped out carrying war materials from
England to North Africa, the Middle East, positioning
supplies for the British forces. I was not exactly sure
where we were going. I knew only that we were headed
into the Mediterranean Sea, me in the care of Henry,
one of the ship's boiler mates, to whom my instructor
had turned me over after he, the pub-keeper and their
buds had introduced me to their ways of sex. Henry and
I coupled night and day, on shore and aboard ship as we
prepared to depart and once we got under way.
He sucked me and fucked me, had me suck him, really
treated me as his wife, at least his personal property.
He did not share me with others on board although it
was clear many of them wanted me. We bunked on the same
deck, Henry above me in his bunk, and for that matter,
on top of me in my bunk or his. Clearly the other men
knew what we were doing.
Using me still night and day, depending on our engine
room watch schedules, he made sure I was never
available to any of the other horny sailors. He
arranged our schedules so we were always together, even
at mess - meals in the galley, and certainly at "rest"
times. Our rest times were seldom rest. His pud was
always erect for me as was mine for him and my bum for
his use.
To get to the meat of the story, so to speak, we were
approaching the Strait of Gibraltar. That was to be a
port of call for us, a break from sailing, at sea.
Henry and I were on duty in the engine room, but we had
been granted a 15-minute break. He took me straightway
to a secluded compartment. He dropped his pants wearing
no unders.
His big throbber sprung up right in my face as he
pushed me by my shoulders to kneel in front of him. I
kissed, licked and sucked his knob, fondling his hairy,
sweaty ball sack as I nursed on his cock, then kissed,
licked, mouthed his nuts until he was drooling a steady
stream of his clear, slick juice. Much as you and Nigel
did last night, he smiled.
Then he turned me around, peeled down my pants and
underwear, and bent me over an auxiliary water pump. My
pecker, a mere miniature of his, was up hard, jutting
out from my hairy pubes. He reached to the deck, picked
up a can of grease and swabbed it over his raging
erection.
"Open if for me, John," he said. Leaning my chest on
the warm water pump I reached back and spread by bum
cheeks with both hands. Henry swiped the remnants of
the black grease in my crack and pushed it up into my
hole with his big middle finger first, then his middle
and ring finger, followed by his index finger. With
three fingers in me he opened me, always a gentle
lover, sure to prepare me well for his massive meat.
His fingers squelched out of me, and he brought his
cock helmet to my hole. Uncut, he peeled back the
excess skin uncovering his mushroom crown. He pushed,
flexed his hips, drove his staff right into my bum, all
the way, until I felt his wiry pubes in my crack, his
cock way up in me. Both of us eager, horned up, knowing
our 15 minutes were ticking away, I rocked forward and
back onto his shaft. He pushed thrusting into me hard,
sliding his big thick meat in and out, both of us
breathing hard and sweating in the heat of the
compartment.
Despite our slick bodies, he lifted me off the deck
with his superior strength. Clutching me my back
against his hairy chest he ravaged my asshole mounted
on his rod.
Now, Robert, this is where it gets interesting.
He was lifting me up and sliding me down on his dick,
working it in my stretched hole, my feet clear of the
deck, my body mounted on his.
BOOM!
His long thick cock slammed up into me, deeper than it
had ever gone before. Daft, I squealed in ecstasy never
penetrated so deep or forcefully before. Bolts of cum
shot out of my throbbing, jumping cock. I turned my
head to kiss him, but he fell back, away from me. His
grip loosened on me and I fell to the deck his cock
still in me spurting his cum deep into my bowels. His
hard prod shooting cum plopped out of my hole as he
fell further backwards.
Standing on the deck I felt it shudder. I heard a rush
of water. I looked around, then turned around to look
at Henry. He was writhing on the deck screaming. The
big bones on both of his upper legs were protruding
through the skin. His kneecaps were exposed peeled of
their flesh. The smaller bones in the lower part of his
legs were sticking through the skin also, akimbo, in
different directions.
Seawater surged onto us. I jumped up onto the water
pump and reached above me for some of the piping
lifting myself up above the rising water. Steaming hot
water apparently from the boiler room washed over
Henry. I watched, aghast, as his skin reddened and
bubbled in great blisters. He was being cooked alive.
I reached down and grabbed him by the wrists. His flesh
slid off into my hands. I grabbed at him again, this
time grasping the bones of his forearms.
The compartment tilted sideways. The ship was rolling
onto its side. I looked over Henry back toward the
engine room, still holding him tight in my grasp. The
engine room and its accompanying boilers were a hell.
Men, naked, in tatters of their sailor work clothes
were floating and sinking back into the oily mess of
the frothing, steamy hot water. Tongues lolled out of
some mouths. Eyes bulged. Some empty vacant holes, no
eyeballs at all, mouths gaped. They were dead. Broken
by the blast, cooked in the oil of the engines and the
steam of the boilers.
A great cloud of steam rolled toward Henry and me. I
reeled, almost passed out. The heat was becoming
unbearable. I felt the skin on my face burning.
I turned away, looking forward. The ship lurched, shook
again and rolled further, now upside down, the deck
above us, the overhead below us. A great bubble of air,
then water blew Henry and me, still holding his wrists,
further forward rapidly, and through a ragged hole in
the steel side, or was it the top or bottom of the
ship.
Henry and I rose to the surface of the sea. I looked
down, watched the ship sink away from us, descending
into the depths. A life vest rode on the waves washing
over us. Still holding Henry now by one wrist, I
grappled the vest around my shoulders. We floated just
a bit higher in the water. Then I saw a lifeboat
upright, floating a few yards away. I swam us to it,
tied Henry by the exposed bones of one wrist to a
dangling rope, clambered into the boat and hoisted
Henry into it. Then I collapsed onto the wooden deck
and faded into oblivion.
I don't know how long I was unconscious, but I awoke to
birds nipping and ripping at our skin, mine and
Henry's. Henry's eyes were gone. The birds had eaten
them. He was obviously dead. I breathed a prayer and
slid him over the side of the lifeboat into the
detritus of the wreck, the oil slick, floating empty
life vests, some other lifeboats, papers, books, all
kinds of debris.
I collapsed again back into the bottom of the lifeboat.
I felt slick cum leaking from my asshole, and was
startled by the realization that Henry with his cock up
me cumming just as the explosion hit us, either a mine
of torpedo from a German submarine, Henry holding me up
as his legs took all he shock of the exploding deck had
saved my life. Cock up my ass had saved my life.
Henry's big cock up my ass had saved my life, and I had
just delivered him to his watery grave.
I slipped into unconsciousness again and was awakened
by a light sweeping over me in the dark of the night
sea, guttural voices shouting. "Mein herr, here is a
live one," a German sailor hovering over me, shining a
torch in my eyes, peering down at me in the lifeboat
from his adjoining longboat shouted in a mixture of his
native language and heavy Germanic-tinged English.
I was saved, Robert, the only survivor of the merchant
ship, taken aboard a German U-boat, treated by the
German doctor on board, and after several weeks on the
surface and under the sea, delivered to a German port.
From there I was taken overland to a Stalag, German
prison, and kept there until liberated by some of you
Americans in 1945.
[Old John, Nigel's father, a veteran of WWII, only
survivor of a British merchant marine vessel sunk by a
German U-boat at the approach to the Strait of
Gibraltar in 1940 is taken into a German prison.
Liberated in 1945 by American soldiers he is now
telling his story to his son's special friend, Robert,
an American sailor, scuba diver, explorer of
antiquities, and professional writer.
This is the first time John has told his story. The
story was interrupted by Nigel coming home after
looking at a sailboat he was thinking of buying. Nigel
and Robert spent another lustful night together. Then
Robert returns to look again at the sailboat before
making his final decision. John continues his story in
the first person, thus few quote marks are used, after
Nigel leaves his father's house for the afternoon. At
tea time, John, primed again by some gin with his tea
and scones, hoping Robert may write his story picks up
again where he left off before.]
CHAPTER 3
[After his fantastic survival story, John lifted off
the deck by his onboard lover, a boilers mate with his
cock up John's ass. Due to his lover taking all the
shock of the torpedo sinking the merchant marine ship,
John survives, is taken prisoner by the Germans and
transported to a German Stalag - prison. John's son,
Nigel, Robert's lover is away again looking at a
sailboat he is considering for purchase. So John
continues his story to Robert in the first person. Thus
few quote marks are used.]
At my intake into the Stalag a German doctor examined
me. He spoke perfect English with only a bit of German
accent. Why not? He had been educated at your John
Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland. He found I
had a barrelled, reamed anus due to so much fucking by
so many big cocks. He questioned me about it, and did
not believe my protestations. So he fucked me. He
explained that he was lonely and horny away during the
war from his lovely blonde wife and their children. He
even showed me pictures of them.
While he was fucking me his nurse, a male sergeant
intruded into the examining room. I was laid back on an
examining table, my feet in the stirrups, bum hanging
over the end of the table, like a woman getting a
pelvic exam, only it was my man-pussy no longer being
examined but long-dicked by the German doctor.
Smirking, the nurse apologized to the doctor for his
intrusion.
The nurse wasted no time though passing the word to
others in the camp. I was given special treatment in
the prison hospital while I recovered from my rather
superficial wounds but the strong trauma of being the
only survivor on board our merchant marine ship.
The nurse fucked me next, one night in my hospital bed
while he was on duty looking after me. Then there was a
conga line of the few other male nurses, and many
guards who needed some pussy, my man-pussy since they
were away from their wives, girlfriends, or special men
friends during the war. The doctor who had discovered
my "secret" had me suck him, and he fucked me daily,
nightly. The nurse led groups of Germans to me on some
nights or days to get off in my mouth or bum.
Finally they released me into the general prison
population of fellow Brits, Frenchmen, Poles, other
East Europeans, Russians, and your American mates. The
Germans seemed to take special delight early on in
having me fuck, be sucked, or even suck and be fucked
by the Jews in the prison. Then the Jews started to
disappear, taken on trains from the Stalag. None of us
knew what was happening to the Jews at that time. When
they wanted me the Germans came and took me from the
barracks, usually to the hospital, sometimes to one of
their barracks and fucked me for days and nights.
Eventually I was even being taken to the Commandant's
private home for him to fuck me, or for me to be the
entertainment at parties that he hosted for visiting
dignitaries.
I had learned quite a bit of German as the years
passed. I heard one night a heated argument between the
commandant and the doctor on one side and a Waffen SS
visitor on the other, the SS officer urging even after
he had me suck his cock and fucked me that I should be
"transported."
He mentioned Dachau, Treblinka, Auschwitz and Birkenau
as possible destinations. He argued that the camp
doctors could study me, the psychologists examine me,
at some point even an autopsy be done on my brain to
see why I so liked cock. Short of the autopsy he said
the doctors could change me into a woman in
experimental surgery.
Fortunately in a big way but unfortunately in other
ways the commandant and the doctor prevailed by
promising the SS officer he could come to the Stalag
anytime he wanted for my services, even bring his
friends, or take me out of the camp for their pleasure
to parties at their retreats. I was in fear for my life
every time I was taken out of the camp.
The SS were so cruel. They not only used my mouth and
bum for their pleasures, they also treated me to S&M
and BD activities. Finally the doctor and commandant no
longer allowed me to be taken out of the camp after the
SS officer returned me one time so abused it took me
days to recover even with medical attention from the
doctor. I had learned by then though to enjoy some of
the torture to which the SS submitted me at their
parties.
In the Stalag it was near non-stop submission for me to
the cocks of my fellow Brits, Frenchmen, Poles, other
East Europeans, Russians, and your American mates. I
did not mind so much pleasing the other prisoners. It
did bother me some though when they ganged me all
night, then the Germans came for me in the morning to
use me all day.
By the time I was liberated in 1945 I was a hopeless
slag for cock. My bum had gotten so used, worn, slack.
At times the doctor medicated it to tighten it. He even
performed minor surgery on me a few times to restore it
to something more akin to an asshole than to a gaping
cunt.
After I was liberated I was transferred from hospital
to hospital until I arrived back in England. At a
hospital in East Anglia my first stop in the homeland,
as I healed mentally, physically and gained some weight
and ability to get an erection without a cock up my
bum, a nurse took a shine to me.
A buxom wench, she sneaked to my bed one night, knelt
beside me, stroked me to hardness and sucked me off in
her mouth. The next night she was back again. She
started the same way, then climbed into the bed with
me. She lifted her white, stiff starched nurse dress
and sat on my stiffie. Shushing my moans and groans of
pleasure, she rode up and down on me until I came in
her hairy twat.
I thought her being an experienced nurse and all that
we were safe, but that brought Nigel. It turned out she
was a married woman. She stayed at the hospital until
he was born, delivered him to me as an infant for me to
raise, and returned all innocent to her husband.
So that is my story, Robert, and here comes Nigel up
the path again. You fellows have fun tonight as you are
wont to do. Remember to keep my secret safe. Do not
tell Nigel, and if you write my story use fake names.
CHAPTER 4
That night as Nigel and I - Robert - were resting from
a glorious 69 to completion, then one after the other
bum-fucking each other, he was twiddling with my
nipples, fondling my balls and stroking gently my
tender cock.
"You and pop have been talking a lot," he began. "Then
when I come home or meet you in the pub you fall
suddenly quieter. Has he been telling you his story?"
Nigel asked.
Again I was as shocked by Nigel's comments and query as
I had been by his father when John started his
storytelling to me at the pub. I laid there silent
trying to frame an acceptable answer. Even reached over
and felt Nigel's soft, wet, big cock hoping to take his
mind away from that line of talk.
"Oh come on," Nigel said, "don't be such a putz. I know
daddy's story. When I first realized my preference for
men I did some investigation. It was not difficult to
ferret him out. His story, at least the bare outlines
of it are available in the merchant marine records,
even more in the German files from the Stalag. I even
traced him back home to the nurse, my mother."
"Oh," I managed to squeak as he smeared the glob of
pre-cum now oozing from my cockhead down over my shaft.
I milked his pre-cum up and coated his hard pole with
his slick juice.
"Let's go fuck him," Nigel said. "Give the old boy a
thrill. We may be the last dicks he ever has in his
sweet, horny bum."
"Are you sure Nigel?" I asked. "Think he will like
that?"
"I know he'll like it," Nigel answered. "He'll love it.
He's been sneaking by and watching us through the door
every night. He must be so horny by now even his old
withered cock is boned. Come on, let's go," Nigel
urged. He jumped out of the bed his hard cock sticking
straight out eager to plow his father's bum.
I knew he was going to fuck his dad whether I joined
him or not. I got out of the bed on the opposite side,
stood, my cock bobbing in front of me, dripping pre-
cum, and followed Nigel to his father's bedroom door.
The door was ajar. Nigel eased it open. We peered in
the room illuminated by the embers in the fireplace.
John was on his knees, his chest on the mattress. He
turned his head, looked down his body back at us, gave
his already hard, senior cock a stroke, and said, "Come
on in chaps. Give an old man a good bum riding." He
grinned at us. "I've been looking forward to this for
so long, Nigel. Now you have a friend who knows my
story too. Come, take me, enjoy my pleasures. Let me
give you the pleasure I love so much."
There was no end to the surprises from this father and
son. They knew much more about each other than I
imagined, and I suppose than the other realized until
this night.
Nigel and I padded barefoot, naked across the floor,
got into the bed with John. Nigel went for his bum. I
crawled up by the headboard, knelt at John's head my
erection bobbing at his face. John gasped as Nigel
entered his back hole. John's open mouth closed over my
cockhead. John used his talented mouth and bum on me
and Nigel, then on Nigel and me in order. He lay on his
back playing with his cock, smiling at us as Nigel and
I put on a little show for him 69ing, rimming,
fingering and bum-fucking through the rest of the night
until we were exhausted. We slept together in a three-
way pile until midday.
John, Nigel and I shared many fun times together after
that first night. In just over a year John passed.
Nigel and I sent him on his way with dignity. We are
still close friends - Nigel and I - and now John's
story is told publicly.
END
[Let me know what you think. Feedback is appreciated,
preferably no flames, harsh criticism, cranky hang-ups
if you are reading or have read the stories. They are
part truth, part fantasy. You decide which and where,
what parts. volatw@aol.com]
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
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Kristen's collection - Directory 42