Fantasy Lifestyles 2/Fantasy Lifestyles 2.iso/agt/ship04.txt

Text File | 1995-12-18 | 21.9 KB | 477 lines

                          BLOW THE MAN DOWN

                           by Jason Bonds

                              Chapter 4

 Outside,  Cotton  Tyler  and  Shawn  McGregor  were  waling  up the
 gangplank. The setting  sun's last rays had turned  the western sky
 blood-red, and Tampa Bay looked  inky-black. No exterior lights had
 been turned on and the Apollo looked deserted.

 "Where  the hell  are Damon  and Lucky?"  Cotton said in annoyance.
 "Anybody  could  walk  off  with  a  half-million-dollars' worth of
 equipment here."

 "Maybe they abandoned  ship," Shawn laughed as he  stepped inside a
 doorway and flipped on the outside lights.

 "They're  probably fucking,"  Cotton said  dryly. "That's  all they
 ever do."

 "So did we -- when we  were their age," Shawn reminded the captain,
 who was also his lover.

 Cotton was only twenty-six, and Shawn  was a year younger. But they
 had been lovers since they were teenagers at Tampa High School, and
 the fires of  passion between them had cooled  over the intervening
 years. They still loved to fuck but not with the same frequency and
 intensity  with which  Damon and  Lucky fucked.  Like many straight
 couples,  the  two  men  had  held  together  as  much by financial
 entanglements and responsibilities as  by passion for one another's
 body. They were co-owners of the  Apollo and they had bought a home
 together in St. Petersburg, near Tampa.

 Cotton  Tyler had  been aptly  nicknamed as  a boy.  He had hair so
 blonde  it was  almost white,  and his  tangled curls  often looked
 almost luminous  in bright sunlight. He  had pale-amber eyes, which
 gave his  suntanned face a  slightly mysterious look.  Handsome and
 well-built cotton looked younger than his twenty-six years.

 As always when  ashore, Cotton was wearing white  slacks and a knit
 pullover  shirt with  white deerskin  shoes. He  looked more like a
 playboy  from the  local country  club than  the captain  of a tuna
 boat.

 Shawn McGregor  looked every bit the  Scotsman that he was.  He had
 brilliant  red hair  and emerald-green   eyes, and  a fine  film of
 reddish hair  on his forearms  and legs. Shawn's  handsome face was
 made distinctive  by his heavy brows,  which sloped downward toward
 the  bridge  of  his  nose,  giving  him  a  rakish, devil-may-care
 appearance. Like all the hard-working  men in the tuna fleet, Shawn
 had an exceptionally well-developed physique.

 He always  wore denim seafarer pants  and a denim shirt,  which was
 invariably open  to his navel,  revealing his brawny  chest. Unlike
 most Scots, Shawn  had few freckles and his  smooth skin was tanned
 to a ruddy hue from working outdoors.

 "Let's  check out  the cabins  below," Cotton  suggested. "If those
 two've run off and left this boat unattended, I'll fire their asses
 -- buddies or not!"

 "I can't believe  they'd do a thing like that,"  Shawn said as they
 started down the stairs into the hold.

 "What the hell?" Cotton blurted when they entered the bunk cabin.

 He and Shawn had arrived on the  scene just as Lucky and Damon were
 dressing. Rick Marinaro was still  tied up, naked and spread-eagled
 on the floor. And his ass-cheeks were gleaming with smears of cum.

 "Jesus!" Shawn gasped,  astounded that the two crewmen  had gone to
 such lengths. He had never known they were into bondage.

 Rick looked up  at Cotton and Shawn, his face  drawn with shame and
 disgust. He  opened his mouth, but  couldn't find words for  such a
 situation  at  first.  His  lips  were  dry  and  his  tongue moved
 silently.

 "Help me," he  finally said weakly looking at  the two new arrivals
 with imploring eyes.

 "What have you  two hellions done now?" Cotton  demanded, unable to
 take his eyes off Rick's naked body. "And who is this?"

 "Damned if I  know," Lucky said. "He came aboard  looking for a job
 or something," Damon said.

 "But why is he tied up?" Shawn asked angrily.

 "He didn't want to play," Lucky said matter-of-factly.

 Cotton  knelt down  beside Rick  and began  untying his hands while
 Shawn released his ankles.

 "Who  are you  and what  the  hell's  going on  here?" Cotton  said
 impatiently.

 "I'm Rick Marinaro,"  the embarrassed young man said  as he sat up,
 stretching his sore arms and legs  slowly. "I'm an observer for the
 Tuna- Porpoise  Management Branch of the  National Marine Fisheries
 Service... Department of the Interior.  I was assigned to check out
 your operations at sea." He ran  his fingers through his lush black
 hair, shaking his head. "They told me I'd be unpopular aboard these
 damned  tuna  boats.  But,  Christ,  I  didn't  expect this kind of
 treatment."

 "Holy shit!" Lucky blurted, realizing now what had happened.

 "Saints preserve us!" Shawn muttered.

 Cotton  stood  up,  clasping  his  open  palms  over his face. "Oh,
 Lord... you guys  have raped an officer of  the federal government!
 We're  in big  trouble. Oh,  shit!" He  hit a  wall with  his fist,
 hurting himself.

 "Why  the fuck  didn't you  tell us  who you  were?" Damon  said in
 exasperation, looking hard at Rick.

 "The  way you  were acting,  I thought  you knew,"  Rick said as he
 tried  to cover  his nakedness   with the  tattered remains  of his
 yellow jacket. "They told me observers are about as welcome on tuna
 boats as  an outbreak of the  plague -- so I  just assumed you guys
 were pulling my leg at first, trying to scare me off."

 "This your first assignment?" Cotton asked.

 "Yeah," Rick  said dejectedly. "They'll hire  anybody with the guts
 to go, it's such a lousy job.  But the pay's good. And I needed the
 money bad. I just came through  a nasty divorce and lost everything
 but my fucking bicycle when the lawyers got done with me."

 Damon  gave Lucky  an I-told-you-so  look, and  Lucky shrugged  his
 shoulders and  averted his eyes,  realizing he had  made a horrible
 mistake.

 Cotton sat down  cross-legged on the floor, facing  Rick. "Is there
 anything  I can  do to  make things  right? I  don't have much cash
 right now, but  I want to make some kind  of restitution... I can't
 afford to lose my fishing license."  He hung his head. "If we can't
 fish, I'll lose the Apollo."

 Damon knelt and  joined them. "This boat's his  life, man!" he said
 imploringly to Rick.

 "Hey," Lucky  said, clearing his throat  nervously and crossing his
 brawny  arms against  his chest.  "I'm sorry,  fella. I thought you
 were some kind  of closet fag or something, and  you just rubbed me
 the wrong way."

 Rick chuckled bitterly. "And I  thought you guys were straight guys
 pretending to be gay... till you got me down here." He looked up at
 Lucky. "But you're right. I was a smart-ass."

 "What  can  I  do  to  straighten  this  mess  out?"  Cotton  asked
 nervously, realizing Rick had his future in his hands.

 Rick seemed to  be considering things seriously for  a moment. Then
 he looked at Cotton and grinned.

 "Well, for starters, how about  not killing any porpoises while I'm
 assigned to your boat?"

 "All  right!"  Lucky  said  enthusiastically,  patting  Rick's bare
 shoulder. "You're  one hell of a  good sport, man! My  hat's off to
 you."

 "Is that all?" Cotton asked suspiciously.

 "Yeah," Rick said.  "Your man told the truth. I  came aboard with a
 chip on my shoulder, looking for trouble -- and I found it."

 There was jubilation for a few minutes when it became apparent that
 Rick  Marinaro wasn't  going to  take advantage  of his position to
 destroy the  livelihoods of the four  fishermen. Lucky went topside
 to fetch Rick's backpack, so he would be able to clothe himself.

 After Lucky bounded up the  steps, Damon whispered near Rick's ear:
 "Hey, man. You're beautiful -- and I don't mean just your looks."

 *    * * *

 Before dawn the nest morning, the  Apollo left Tampa Bay and headed
 out into the Gulf of Mexico. For the next two weeks, the five young
 men  would live  with the  incessant hum  of the  boat's big diesel
 engine and the pungent aroma of an accumulating cargo of tuna. Even
 though  the dead  fish were  kept in  refrigerated cargo holds, the
 odor of tuna pervaded the entire boat.

 Since  Rick had  to sleep  in the  same bunk  cabin with  the crew,
 privacy for fucking was practically nonexistent. Normally, the four
 fishermen  worked hard  by day  and indulged  in uninhibited sexual
 activity by  night. But with Rick  among them now, all  that had to
 change.  In view  of what   had happened,  Cotton decided  a little
 decorum was in order, for Rick's benefit.

 Official  orders  were  issued:  No  sucking  or  fucking  in  Rick
 Marinaro's presence.

 As the sun rose over the gulf, Cotton was at the helm, alone in the
 pilothouse.  Surveying  the  featureless   expanse  of  blue  water
 surrounding them  from horizon to  horizon, Cotton listened  to the
 marine radio.

 The  National Hurricane  Center at  Miami was  warning of  a strong
 tropical  disturbance approaching  the Atlantic  coast of  Florida.
 Gale warnings had been issued from Miami to Daytona Beach. But that
 didn't worry  Cotton. It was practically  unheard of for hurricanes
 to cross the  Florida peninsula and enter the  Gulf of Mexico. such
 storms nearly always broke up  and dissipated when they encountered
 a landfall.

 "Hey,  good-looking!"  Shawn  said  as   he  climbed  up  into  the
 pilothouse. "Want your cock sucked to start the day right?"

 Cotton laughed.  "It was pretty  dull down in  quarters last night,
 wasn't it?" He reached down and  felt his cock-bulge to signify his
 interest in his lover's proposal. "Where's Rick?"

 "Still sleeping -- like a good little landlubber."

 "You really want to fool around -- here?"

 "Sure,"  Shawn smiled,  kissing Cotton  quickly. "If  we don't take
 advantage of  these precious moments,  there'll be precious  little
 fucking on this trip. Know what I mean?"

 "You're right," Cotton  said. "We better get it  while the gettin's
 good."

 There was no wind and the swell was minimal, so Cotton put the boat
 on automatic pilot  and began stripping out of  his clothes. Shawn,
 who was barefoot and shirtless, didn't  have much to take off. In a
 moment, both men were naked.

 Shawn went to  his knees quickly, kissing the  blonde belly mane on
 Cotton's stomach and grasped his  hunky ass-cheeks with both hands.
 He licked downward into Cotton's lush thicket of soft blonde crotch
 hair,  nuzzling his  nose there  as Cotton's  cock rose insistently
 against his  chin. The blonde  down that covered  Cotton's legs and
 arms glistened in the morning sun, and his pubic hair sparkled with
 glints of gold.

 Sucking Cotton's rigid prick into  his mouth, Shawn angled his neck
 so he could deep-throat the prick he knew so well. Cotton gasped as
 he felt  his cock sink into  the familiar tightness of  his lover's
 throat. He grabbed Shawn's head and  began to fuck his face slowly,
 delighting in  the sensation as  his nine-inch cock  slithered into
 the warm sheath of the guy's throat.

 While he  fucked Shawn's mouth, Cotton  saw Lucky and Damon  on the
 deck below, going  about their business of preparing  the huge nets
 and  checking out  the power  winches. He  noticed that Damon still
 hadn't bothered  to put on  any underwear, and  -- as usual  -- his
 cock was dangling out beneath his jean cut- offs.

 "I'm gonna have to speak to Damon about those shorts," Cotton said.
 "That boy's too much sometimes."

 Shawn backed away, releasing Cotton's  prick. "Let him be. It makes
 the work more interesting."

 "I know. But I don't want Rick to be offended."

 Shawn licked his  way up Cotton's smooth chest,  stopping to nibble
 for a moment  at a small brown tit.  Then he kissed his way  up the
 side of the  blonde's neck, enveloping him in  his arms and kissing
 him passionately on the mouth.

 "It's still  good with you, Cotton,"  Shawn murmured as he  ran his
 hands over his lover's broad back. "Even after ten years."

 "Strange," Cotton remarked,  "how it seems so much  better now that
 it's forbidden. You notice that?"

 "Um-hummm,"  Shawn agreed,  holding Cotton's  solid ass-cheeks with
 both  hands and  grinding his  hard-on against  his belly  while he
 kissed him again.

 Then  Cotton went  to his  knees, dragging  his tongue down Shawn's
 hard, flat belly. The Scotsman's stomach was streaked by a vertical
 trail of  reddish fur that  spread out at  his crotch into  a thick
 bush  of  fiery  red  curly  hair.  The  veins  in his abdomen were
 distended and his cock was thrusting upward, begging for attention.
 Sunshine glinting in  his crotch hair make it look  as if his prick
 rose from a flaming bush.

 Taking  Shawn's  rigid  cock  into  his  mouth,  Cotton  cupped his
 red-furred balls  with one hand  and explored the  hairy crevice of
 his ass with  the other. He began to bob  his head, fucking Shawn's
 cock between his ovaled lips.

 Shawn leaned against the wall, enjoying Cotton's mouth on his prick
 while the  morning sun warmed  his naked body.  While he luxuriated
 under  Cotton's expert  cocksucking. Shawn  watched the  enevitable
 flock of sea  gulls pursuing the Apollo -- the  birds would be with
 them until they  returned to Tampa. He saw  Lucky grab Damon's cock
 while they  were working with a  new, watched the two  young lovers
 cavort  playfully  and  finally  embrace  and  kiss  briefly before
 returning to tending the nets.

 It  was a  good life  they had  on the  Apollo, combining work with
 play, free of the limiting  restraints that made land-based life so
 dull. They  all were enjoying  a deep sense  of camaraderie unknown
 outside the  microcosm of a  commercial fishing vessel.  The Apollo
 was  their life,  and they  shared everything  -- their joys, their
 sorrows, their dreams and their bodies. they had all they wanted --
 the sun, the sea, the Apollo and each other.

 "Let's sixty-nine,"  Shawn suggested dreamily while  he tangled his
 fingers in Cotton's curly blonde hair.

 Cotton released Shawn's cock and tugged  at his hand. "Come on down
 and let's have at it."

 They  lay  in  opposite  directions  on  the  floor  of the cramped
 wheelhouse and  began to suck each  other's cock. Each of  them was
 thinking that sex seemed more exciting this way, having to hide out
 and fuck  on the sly. They  had never fucked in  the pilothouse and
 the novelty of it made it seem naughty.

 Cotton was twisting his mouth rapidly on Shawn's hard cock, holding
 onto his slim  hips and nudging his nose into  his lover's balls as
 he deep-throated his prick. Shawn had one leg propped up and Cotton
 could see his ass-crack beyond his balls. The red curly hair in the
 crevice of  his ass gleamed brightly,  contrasting with the smooth,
 creamy flesh of his buns.

 Attracted by the sight of Shawn's ass, Cotton came off his cock and
 licked across his furry balls  and into his ass-crack. Shawn moaned
 with delight  and did the same  to Cotton. The two  men were curled
 together  on the  floor, lapping  at one  another's ass and jacking
 each other's cock with wild abandon...

 Outside  on  the  bridge,  Rick  Marinaro  had  come up looking for
 Cotton. He was  wearing a brief red Speedo  and white sneakers, his
 bronzed skin seeming to glow in the morning sunshine.

 Rick was about to open the  pilothouse door when, through the glass
 window,  he saw  Cotton and  Shawn on  the floor,  licking ass like
 crazy. His eyes  widened and he stood frozen for  a moment. Then he
 recoiled in disgust, backing away from the window.

 An  instant  later,  Rick  realized  his  cock  was  uncoiling  and
 hardening  within the  tight confines  of his  nylon swimsuit.  The
 revulsion he had  felt for a moment ago was  -- whether he liked it
 or not  -- transforming into  unwanted excitement. Looking  down at
 his expanding cock-bulge, Rick was appalled with himself.

 "Morning, Rick!" Damon called from  the deck below. "You're lookin'
 good there, man!"

 Waving  silently  to  the  youth  below,  Rick  stood at the bridge
 railing uneasily. He knew damned well he was looking good, and that
 he was tempting  fate by prancing around aboard  the Apollo in such
 scanty attire.  He had told  himself he was  just wearing a  Speedo
 because of the  humid and oppressive heat. But  the weather, though
 warm, wasn't all that hot. It was Rick Marinaro who was hot.

 Against  his  better  judgement,  Rick  stepped  back  over  to the
 wheelhouse  window. Peering  in, he  saw that  Cotton and Shawn had
 gone back to  sucking each other's cock. Cotton was  on his back on
 the floor now and Shawn was on top, straddling his face and fucking
 his mouth.  While he fucked  Cotton's mouth, Shawn  was bobbing his
 head  rapidly,  sucking  voraciously  on  Cotton's  upthrust prick.
 Shawn's  naked ass  looked enticing,   lurching up  and down  as he
 fucked Cotton's receptive mouth.

 Rick became fascinated with the creamy white mounds of Shawn's ass,
 which contrasted starkly  with the ruddy suntan of  the rest of his
 muscular body. The fine, curly  red hair that lined his ass-crevice
 sparkled in sunshine  that streamed in through the  huge windows of
 the pilothouse.

 Seeing that Lucky  and Damon had gone aft to  work on a winch, Rick
 brazenly pushed the front of his Speedo down, plopping his cock and
 balls out into the fresh morning air. His cock stood out at a sharp
 angle to his  belly as he grasped the cock-shaft  and began to jerk
 off while he watched the two studs inside sucking each other.

 Rick had  never realized he had  voyeuristic inclinations, but then
 an opportunity such as this had never arisen before. If he had seen
 anyone  else doing  what he  was doing,  he would  have thought  it
 repugnant. But, somehow, it seemed all  right at the moment for him
 to  beat his  meat and  watch a  couple of  guys giving  each other
 blow-jobs. Not only all right, but downright exciting...

 Cotton was  enjoying the was  Shawn's bouncing balls,  Cotton could
 see the red-haired  crevice of his cute ass.  And, beyond the furry
 valley of Shawn's  ass... he could see just the  top of Rick's head
 at  the window!  Adjusting the  angle of  his neck,  Cotton quickly
 realized Rick was standing outside jacking off and watching them.

 Rick, who was busy beating his  meat and watching the way Shawn was
 deep- throating Cotton's prick, failed  to notice Cotton peering at
 him from between Shawn's legs.

 Drawing  back  and  taking  his  mouth  from  Shawn's  cock, Cotton
 whispered urgently:  "Shawn... don't stop  till I tell  you to, but
 we've got a visitor out on the bridge. When I say so, get off me in
 a hurry. Okay?"

 "Umm-hummmm," Shawn mumbled on Cotton's  prick, and he kept bobbing
 hes head, knowing that Rick must be watching them.

 "Now!" Cotton said quickly.

 Abruptly, Shawn  rolled to one side  and Cotton leaped to  his feet
 and flung the  door open, nearly knocking Rick  over the railing in
 his haste. Rick  was startled out of his  wits, thrown back against
 the railing  as he was, with  his red Speedo down  around his knees
 and his hard prick in his hand.

 "What  the hell  is your  trip, anyway?"  cotton demanded, standing
 naked in the pilothouse doorway. "What the fuck do you want?"

 "I...  I don't  know," Rick  admitted, pulling  up his swimsuit and
 trying to pack his big cock inside the tiny thing. "I'm sorry, man.
 I don't know what got into me."

 Rick started for the steps to the main deck, but Cotton grabbed him
 roughly by the arm and yanked him inside the pilothouse. He slammed
 Rick against the wall, and Shawn helped hold him still.

 "I think Lucky was right on  his first guess," Cotton said. "You're
 just a frustrated closet cock-sucker."

 "I'm  not gay!"  Rick insisted.  "But I  can't help  being a little
 curious about the things you guys do. I never saw anything like the
 kind of stuff that goes on aboard this boat!"

 The two naked  seamen stood on each side of  Rick, holding his arms
 against the  wall. His rapidly shrinking  hard-on was still bulging
 out the  crotch of his  Speedo, and a  damp spot of  pre-cum on the
 filmy nylon revealed his horniness.

 "You're pretty goddamned  hot for a guy who's  just curious," Shawn
 said, supping Rick's damp cock-bulge with his hand.

 "Get  your  fuckin'  hand  off  my  cock!"  Rick blurted excitedly,
 struggling against them for a moment.

 "You don't really mean that," Shawn smiled, feeling the guy's prick
 suddenly swelling again under his caress. "You're hot as a pistol!"

 "Awww,  damn,"  Rick  moaned  in   anguish,  hating  his  cock  for
 responding to Shawn's tough that way. "Don't... you guys!"

 The  swarthy stud's  handsome face  was contorted  by a  grimace of
 soul- wrenching pain when he  realized his prick was betraying him.
 Under the  warm caress of  Shawn's hand, Rick's  cock stiffened and
 crept  upward until  the drooling  cock-head was  projecting lewdly
 over the top edge of his bikini.

 "You've got a nice cock,"  Cotton said enthusiastically. He grasped
 the exposed head of Rick's  cock, rubbing the slippery pre-cum over
 the  cock-knob  with  his  thumb.  "How  come  your  ex-wife didn't
 appreciate such a nice equipment? Huh?"

 "Stop it!"  Rick bellowed, unexpectedly jerking  loose and punching
 cotton in the stomach with a clenched fist.

 A brief scuffle ensued before Shawn  and Cotton were able to subdue
 the violent young man. they pinned  him against the wall again. All
 three of them were breathing hard from the exertion.

 "This son of a bitch is nuts!" Shawn said, using both hands to hold
 Rick's arm against the wall.

 "That does it," Cotton said, glaring at Rick. His stomach was still
 hurting, and he  was mad. "I think the time's  come for you to suck
 some  cock and  get out  of your  system." He  forced a  wry smile.
 "You'll feel better afterward."