Fantasy Lifestyles 2/Fantasy Lifestyles 2.iso/agt/ship09.txt

Text File | 1995-12-18 | 19.2 KB | 398 lines

                          BLOW THE MAN DOWN

                           by Jason Bonds

                              Chapter 9

 The next  morning Rick was rudely  awakened by a sharp  blow to his
 head. At first, he thought someone has struck him. Then he realized
 the boat was bucking and lurching violently, and he had been thrown
 from his bunk and banged his head on the floor.

 "Shit!" Rick said, getting up and looking around.

 He was alone in the bunk  room, and there was a sickening sensation
 of  tumultuous  motion,  punctuated  by  brief  intervals  of  near
 weightlessness. The  Apollo was creaking  and groaning loudly,  and
 there were frightening  snapping sounds as the hull  and frame work
 resisted extraordinary stresses. Rick ran  to a porthole and peered
 outside.

 "Oh, my God!" he breathed, looking out with wide eyes.

 Between splashes  of foaming water against  the porthole, he caught
 glimpses   of   the   incredibly   rough   sea  outside.  Churning,
 wind-whipped dark waters towered up in frothy waves higher than the
 boat.  A driving  rain was  being blown  in horizontal  sheets by a
 raging wind while the Apollo rode the angry sea.

 Stark terror gripped Rick Marinaro  when he caught his next glimpse
 of the ugly scene outside. The Apollo was riding the churning crest
 of a mountainous  wave for a few seconds, then  the boat dipped and
 slid rapidly down the slope of the great wall of water, diving into
 a horrifying trough  between giant waves.  The abrupt descent  into
 the  trough left  Rick's stomach  queasy. In  the next instant, the
 boat was  being literally blown up  the windward slope of  the next
 colossal wave,  where it teetered at  the foamy crest for  a moment
 before plunging into another seemingly bottomless trough.

 Rick jumped back from the porthole as dark water slapped against it
 with such  force he thought  the thick glass  might break. He  hung
 onto a corner of a bunk bed, looking for his clothes. Loose objects
 were  sliding  weirdly  back  and  forth  across  the floor, and he
 grabbed his backpack  as it came by. While he  dug in his backpack,
 Rick  could hear  the big   diesel engine  of the  Apollo straining
 against  the onslaught  of the  storm. The  engine's roar  vibrated
 everything in the room.

 He hurried getting into a pair  of jeans and a Rod Stewart T-shirt.
 Rick sat  on the floor and  put on his sneakers  without any socks.
 While he was  tying his shoes, he found  himself sliding across the
 bunk room  as the Apollo's  bow took an  unusually severe dip.  The
 sliding  motion  irritated  his  sore  ass,  reminding  him  of the
 previous night's marathon fucking session with the four fishermen.

 A momentary surge of guilt made Rick  tense when he recalled how he
 had begged  the guys to fuck  him to death, how  he had wallowed in
 utter depravity,  and how he had  gloried in the defilement  of his
 beautiful body.

 Suddenly, the floor  sloped at a steep angle  toward the stern, and
 Rick found himself  rolling across the room. Before  he could right
 himself, he slammed  into the aft wall with a  dull thud. It didn't
 take  an experienced  sailor to  know the  Apollo was  in danger of
 capsizing, and  Rick's fleeting feeling  of guilt evaporated  as he
 realized he was in a  very real life threatening situation. Hanging
 onto pipes  and bunk beds, he  made his way to  the stairway. As he
 climbed the steep stairs, the narrow stairwell at times lay at such
 an angle that he found himself  lying against the wall. Finally, he
 reached the door at the top of the stairs.

 Rick  opened  the  door  to  a  watery  nightmare. The driving rain
 drenched him instantly, as if a  bucket of water had been thrown on
 him.  The raging  wind was  shrieking against  masts and guy wires.
 forty-foot  waves that  towered above  the boat  were having  their
 foaming  crests literally  blown off   by the  high winds,  and the
 Apollo was being tossed about like  a cork. While Rick stood in the
 open doorway, appalled by it all, he heard a loud crack. An instant
 later, the  tall boom mast  he had been  chained to the  day before
 fell across  the deck with  a resounding crash.  as he jumped  back
 inside, a huge  piece of fiberglass from the  radar antenna housing
 went sailing by.

 "Jesus!" Rick gasped, convinced that the Apollo was falling apart.

 He couldn't see anyone on deck,  so he steeled his nerves and began
 making  his way  to the  bridge stairway,  hanging onto railings to
 keep  from being  blown overboard.  As  he  fought his  way up  the
 stairway, Rick had  horrible visions of the whole  crew having been
 swept overboard, and he imagined himself alone on a sinking vessel.
 He bit his lower lip, hoping it wasn't so, praying for the sound of
 a human voice. He had never been so terrified before in his life.

 Suddenly,  there was  a great  roar of  water as  the Apollo's  bow
 dipped into a  rolling wall of dark water.  The mammoth wave spewed
 and  foamed across  the deck  below, almost  swamping the  lurching
 boat.  Rick gulped  and hung  onto the  stairway railing, realizing
 that if he had been standing where he was a few moments before, the
 angry sea would have claimed him.  He had been lucky, ascending the
 stairs just before the deck inundated.

 Finally reaching  the bridge, Rick hung  on for dear life  and made
 his way  to the pilothouse  door -- the  place where, only  the day
 before, he had stood with his Speedo down around his knees, jacking
 off like  a maniac while he  watched Cotton and Shawn  sucking each
 other  off.  Now  all  that  seemed  a  million  years in the past,
 something that had happened in another life.

 "Thank God!" Rick blurted when he saw the four fishermen inside the
 pilothouse. He yanked the door open and flung himself inside.

 "Rick!" Cotton said  in surprise. "What the hell  are you doing out
 roaming around?"

 Rick plastered his  back against the wall, shuddering  from fear as
 much  as the  cold drenching  he'd had.  "Just thought  I'd take  a
 little morning  stroll," he said. Goose  bumps dotted his suntanned
 arms. "How's the fishing today?"

 "You idiot!" Shawn scolded, drying  Rick's black hair with a towel.
 "Why didn't you  call us on the intercom?  You could've been washed
 overboard!"

 "I didn't know there was  an intercom," Rick said, still trembling.
 "I just woke up and everybody was  gone, and it looked like the end
 of the  world outside... so I  got scared and came  looking for you
 guys." He  grasped Shawn's arm affectionately.  "Goddamn, it's good
 to see you!"

 "You were so out of it this  morning, we decided to let you sleep,"
 cotton said. "There's nothing you can do to help, anyway."

 "Feel better this morning?" Lucky  asked, looking over his shoulder
 at Rick while he fought with the helm.

 "Yes sir," Rick said, feeling a  chill race down his spine when his
 and Lucky's eyes met.

 Everybody except Damon laughed at Rick's response.

 "You  can drop  the sir  stuff this  morning," Lucky  chuckled. "No
 games now -- this is real  life." He struggled to control the helm,
 which was resisting  his efforts as the boat  lurched to starboard.
 "Damn this fuckin' storm!"

 Embarrassed, Rick  took the towel  from Shawn and  dried himself as
 best he could.  His jeans and T-shirt were  soaked, though, and the
 white cotton  of his shirt  clung wetly to  his muscular torso.  He
 felt nauseated, and suddenly found himself gagging with dry heaves.

 "I think I'm sick," Rick muttered, shaking his head.

 "You're  seasick,  man,"  Damon  said.  "I'm  a  little queasy this
 morning, myself. And I live on this tub."

 Shawn  gave Rick  a capsule  and some  water, telling  him it would
 relieve  the  symptoms.  While  Rick  was  drinking,  there  was  a
 tremendous ripping and crunching sound  overhead. Rick looked up at
 the ceiling, petrified with fear.

 "There went the radar antenna," Lucky remarked casually.

 "The boat's coming apart, isn't it?" Rick asked nervously.

 "Naw," Cotton laughed. "We're losing some equipment, but the hull's
 holding up just fine. You think I'd buy a boat that falls apart?"

 Rick could tell Cotton's laughter was forced, that he was concerned
 abut  their  safety.  The  absence  of  comments  by the other guys
 confirmed  Rick's  suspicion  that  they  were  in  grave danger of
 sinking.

 While Lucky battled to keep the  Apollo heading into the wind, Rick
 began to  understand the importance  of what he  was doing. It  was
 obvious  that,  if  the  boat  should  turn  sideways  against  the
 onslaught of  gigantic waves and raging  wind, it would undoubtedly
 capsize. Rick  quickly understood the  vital importance of  the big
 diesel engine  in those circumstances,  knowing that if  the engine
 failed,  they would  founder  hopelessly  on the  storm-tossed sea,
 capsize and slip  to water graves beneath the  choppy surface. This
 was serious business...

 But  still,  even  though  he  knew  it  was  ridiculous  under the
 circumstances, Rick found himself eying  the four studly seamen and
 entertaining lustful  thoughts. Something in  his mind had  snapped
 the day before he had become obsessed with sex. Vivid images of the
 was they had used his body  flashed through Rick's mind, making him
 horny all over again.

 He watched  Lucky Donovan wrestle with  the steering mechanism, his
 huge biceps bulging. Lucky was  wearing his tight jeans and midriff
 T-shirt,  exposing  his  brawny  arms  and  scalloped  abdomen. His
 dark-blonde hair had  been wet recently and was  curled into a mass
 of  tight ringlets  that dangled   over the  bandanna he  kept tied
 around his  head. His sinewy  muscles rippled as  he tugged at  the
 helm, trying to keep the Apollo on course.

 Rick  looked at  Damon, who  was anxiously  peering out through the
 rain- streaked windows. Damon was wearing his ragged cut-offs and a
 gray sweatshirt.  His cock and  hairy balls were  partially visible
 below  the frayed  edges of  his cut-offs,  and his  long slim legs
 looked  good to  Rick. The  cute teenager's  lower ass-cheeks  came
 tantalizingly into view every time he moved.

 Cotton and Shawn were both wearing ragged jeans and sweatshirts. An
 interesting  rip in  the seat   of Shawn's  jeans revealed  a small
 section of smooth bun and a glimpse of his ass-crevice.

 Knowing that death was a very real possibility, Rick still couldn't
 help feeling horny  in the presence of these  good-looking guys who
 had used and abused him so delightfully the night before. Rick felt
 cheated, as if he had only begun  to live, and now this -- a killer
 hurricane that threatened to snuff out  his life just as he finally
 had the opportunity to experience  fulfillment. It just didn't seem
 fair.

 On the spur of the moment, Rick  decided he had nothing to lose and
 everything  to gain.  He decided  to  go  for it,  hurricane or  no
 hurricane...

 "These wet  clothes feel icky,"  Rick said peeling  his wet T-shirt
 off over his head. "Mind if I just wear a towel?" He quickly pushed
 his jeans down, struggling to get the wet denim off over his feet.

 "Suit yourself," Cotton said,  mildly surprised at Rick's immodesty
 at such a time. He was watching the horror in progress outside, and
 paid little attention as Rick stripped.

 Lucky looked around, his fawn-like eyes scanning Rick's naked body.
 "How about  skippin' the towel?" he  said. "We could use  some nice
 scenery about now."

 Rick smiled demurely and draped the towel around his neck, standing
 naked  near  Lucky.  He  knew  the  big  stud  was  enamored of his
 beautiful,  lithe body,  and he  shapelessly tempted  him by moving
 closer.

 "Oooops!" Lucky blurted as a huge wave tossed the Apollo at a steep
 angle, causing the bow to thrust upward. "Son of a bitch!"

 For a moment,  the bow seemed to be  standing straight up, pointing
 skyward. They all fell back against  the wall while Lucky hung onto
 the helm. The boat careened to port, threatening for one horrifying
 moment to turn  on its side. Lucky spun the  helm, heading the boat
 up the slope of a great rolling wall of water.

 "Don't bother Lucky any more," Cotton said sternly to Rick.

 "I didn't do anything," Rick said, shrugging his shoulders.

 "Humph!"  Damon snorted,  looking askance  at Rick,  who had landed
 beside him against  the wall. "Why don't you  put your clothes back
 on, man?"

 "Why don't  you take yours  off?" Rick asked  seductively, reaching
 between  the boy's  legs and  grabbing a  handful of  bare cock and
 balls. "Hummm?"

 "You're nuts," Damon said, trying to ignore Rick's warm hand on his
 prick. But he made no effort to remove the stud's groping hand.

 Rick kept  fondling the teenager's  cock and balls.  He was pleased
 when  he  felt  Damon's  prick  responding,  swelling and gradually
 stiffening  in his  hand. Rick  knew Damon  would now  be the  most
 difficult  one of  the four  guys to  seduce, because  the boy  was
 jealous. Lucky's  obvious fascination with Rick  had cooled Damon's
 ardor,  and the  boy was  now seeing  Rick as  a competitor for his
 hunky lover's attention.

 Damon's cock crept from beneath his shorts, becoming rigid and huge
 in Rick's  hand. Rick grinned with  satisfaction, stroking the cute
 youngster's hard-on slowly.

 "What  is it  you want?"  Damon finally  asked, realizing  he could
 hardly conceal the fact that Rick had turned him on.

 "I want  to suck all  of you guys  off and swallow  your cum," Rick
 said brazenly. "I want a belly full of you guys' jizz."

 Suddenly, all  eyes were on  Rick, who went  on shamelessly jacking
 Damon's  hard  cock.  There  wee  expressions  of surprise on their
 faces.

 "Have  you by  any chance  noticed there's  a hurricane  going on?"
 Cotton asked sarcastically.

 "What  gives you  the idea  abstinence will  save your  neck?" Rick
 said, reaching  out and grasping Cotton's  cock-bulge while he kept
 jacking Damon's prick.

 "There's  a  time  for  all  things,"  Cotton  said.  "And  this is
 definitely not the time for fucking."

 "That's easy for you to say,"  Rick said. "You've had plenty of fun
 in your life. Me, I just started. And, by damn, if I'm gonna die in
 this  lousy storm,  I'm going  down  with  a cock  in my  mouth and
 another one up my ass, 'cause that's what I want!

     "I  love it!"  Lucky laughed,  hanging onto  the lurching helm.
     "You're my kinda guy, Rick -- damn the torpedoes and full speed
     ahead 'n' let the devil be damned! All right!"

 Lucky  reached  back  and  grabbed  Rick's  cock, which was already
 partially hard. Rick saw the spark  of jealousy in Damon's eyes and
 knew he  had to act quickly.  He dropped to his  knees and took the
 boy's hard cock into his mouth.

 Sucking on  Damon's cock, Rick cupped  his hairy balls in  one hand
 and ran his other hand up under  the youth's shorts to probe at his
 sensitive asshole. While he titillated  Damon's ass and balls, Rick
 slurped  his  ovaled  lips  down  his  cock-shaft  until  his  nose
 contacted  the frayed  lower edge  of the  denim that now concealed
 nothing.  Damon's hard-on  had lifted   the leg  of his  cut- offs,
 completely exposing his balls.

 Damon looked  at Lucky and  they exchanged flickering  smiles while
 Rick  fucked his  face rapidly  on the  teenager's prick. Lucky was
 glad Rick had chosen to suck Damon of first, because he was acutely
 conscious of  the boy's jealousy. And,  as anxious as Lucky  was to
 make it with  Rick again, he also wanted to  share the thrills with
 his young lover.

 "You're  a pretty  good cock-sucker,  for an  amateur," Damon said,
 running his hands through Rick's damp hair.

 "Have you  guys lost your fuckin'  minds?" Cotton snapped, watching
 Rick suck Damon's prick.

 "Rick's right," Damon  said, beginning to thrust his  hips and fuck
 his cock in the young stud's mouth.. "What the hell difference does
 it make? If we're gonna go down, we might as well go down first."

 "Very funny," Cotton said dryly.

 "Their logic  seemed perfect to me,"  Shawn said with a  grin as he
 unfastened his pants and flopped his cock out near Rick's face.

 Seeing Shawn's prick from the corners  of his eyes, Rick reached up
 and curled his fingers around the Scotsman's hardening fucker while
 he went  on sucking Damon's  cock. Shawn moved  closer, rubbing his
 drooling  cock-knob against  the  handsome  young man's  cheek Rick
 caressed the cock as it rubbed warmly against his face.

 "Well I'll be goddamned!" Cotton  snorted in exasperation. "I think
 you guys have all--"

 Abruptly, another mountainous wave swung the boat to starboard. The
 Apollo  listed to  port dangerously  for a  second, skidding on the
 slope  of the  giant wave  like a  surfer riding  just ahead of the
 curl.

 Shawn,  Rick  and  Damon  fell  into  a  heap  in the corner of the
 pilothouse. Cotton  had grabbed the  helm and was  trying to assist
 Lucky in righting  the boat, which was riding a  rising wave on its
 side now. There  was a moment of panic that  saw all five young men
 staring wide-eyed at the incredible sight  of a world turned on its
 side in the midst of rushing walls of dark, foaming waters.

 "This  is  it!"  Lucky  gasped  as  he  and  Cotton  spun  the helm
 uselessly, trying  to control a rudder  that was no longer  even in
 the water. "We're goin' down!"

 Pricks wilted  and faces paled as  the Apollo rose to  a new crest,
 still listing forty degrees to port. The guys could see that a good
 third of portside  was underwater as the boat  skidded crazily over
 the billowing  crest of another  wave. They all  held their breaths
 when  they heard  the engine   sputter and  nearly stall.  When the
 engine began to roar again, everybody sighed in relief.

 Then, as  the boat zoomed wildly  down the other side  of the giant
 wave  it had  just topped,  the world  slowly righted itself again.
 Water gushed  from the deck  below as the  Apollo rose triumphantly
 into an  upright position once more.  With the rudder in  the water
 again, Lucky and Cotton were able to  head the bow into the wind at
 last.  The  engine  settled  into  a  droning  purr  as  the  props
 synchronized once more.

 "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Shawn said,  making the sign of the cross
 almost unconsciously while his limber cock swung from his open fly.
 His red hair was askew and his face was pallid.

 "Just look at  yourself!" Cotton said, trying to  conceal an ironic
 smile.  "Standing there  with your  prick flying  at half-mast  and
 making the sign of the cross... I'll never understand you."

 "I  couldn't help  it,"  Shawn  laughed self-consciously.  "It just
 comes  out during  times of  stress. Religious,  that is  -- not my
 cock."

 Everyone laughed,  relieving the awful  tension that had  built up.
 Rick got up  from the floor and helped Damon  up. But Damon stopped
 when  he got  to his  knees, bent  forward and  took Rick's flaccid
 prick into his mouth quickly.

 "No!" Rick snapped, yanking his cock from Damon's mouth, "I'm doing
 the cocksucking  this time around, man.  Understand?" He patted the
 top of  Damon's head. "I deserve  a mouthful of cum.  You guys have
 had more than your share already."