Shores of Tripoli Ch. 04

It was an instant of decision. But Billy could not betray Ben. Or was it, he immediately wondered, that he knew that the Elizabeth would be no match for the Black Falcon and that he would be seeing Ben dispensing exactly the same carnage as the pirates the previous day had exacted before he realized that Billy was aboard?

He turned his body and called below, “North by Northwest, but the sails are nearly over the horizon.”

This, unless the Black Falcon saw them would assure that the Elizabeth, and well ahead of it, the Philadelphia would maintain a course away from the Black Falcon.

He held his breath until the sails of the other vessel no longer were visible. And all of the time he was searching his brain for the answer of who he was protecting by the decision he had made.

That evening, a congenial captain’s table supper over, during which Billy had searched the faces of all present for evidence of his secret lover, Billy retired early again. This time he was not exhausted. This time, he would be awake when his lover appeared and he would try the lovemaking on a completely equal basis.

But on this night, no one appeared in his cabin.

The next morning, all hands—not the Marines, of course—were put to swabbing the decks and preparing for a ship-shape docking in the Azores.

After hours of hard labor in the sun, Billy doused himself with a bucket of water and retreated into the corridor of the officer’s cabins for a chance to cool down. A common sailor would not have thought of doing this, but Billy was treated like he owned the ship, and so could go where he wished.

Familiar sounds drew him to a half-open doorway of one of the officer’s cabins. A naked Lieutenant Foster stood in the center of the room. He was gripping a wide-banded leather strap in front of him with a fist on either end. Bent over and suspended, feet off the ground, on his belly on this strap and nestled into Foster’s groin, was the naked body of the cabin boy, Adam, his buttocks pressed into Foster’s pelvis, and murmuring in a thick voice his total surrender to the fucking he was getting. Foster was slow pumping the small figure he held suspended in front of him, his eyes flashing his own enjoyment of the fuck. Foster would let the strap slacken and Adam’s channel would slide down on the cock. Then Foster would tighten the strap back up, and the cock would slide back to the quick. A couple of inches of thick cock showed in the slacken cycle, and the sight of his cylinder and the hugely disparate sizes of the two men—and especially of Adam’s small hole and the girth of what Foster had stuffed in it—made Billy gasp and give a deep moan. For his part, Adam was completely taken with the fucking he was getting.

Hearing Billy at the door, Foster turned his eyes in that direction. The lust therein did not slacken, although the pumping action slowly did.

No matter to Adam, however. He had already spilled his seed on the deck.

Foster slowly lowered the cabin boy to the deck, who turned on his back, spent, knees bent, still trembling and moaning. He was looking up at Foster with eyes full of awe as if the man were a god.

Foster stood there, strap still suspended between his fists, slightly panting from the exertion of the fuck. He was still in erection. Billy could see that his musculature was as magnificent as he had imagined. He also could see that Foster’s chest had a dark down of curly hair swirling around the taut nipples and then trailing down his sternum, over his belly, and into his black bush. The cock was undersized in its spent condition, but it possibly was the thickest dick Billy had ever seen on a man.

So, this was what Adam meant by the strap, Billy thought. Not what he imagined at all. But arousing, very arousing.

Foster gave Billy a questioning look. He was smiling slightly, with a hint of a challenging sneer. He looked down at the strap, flicked it, and then looked up at Billy again, meaningfully. His cock already has hardening again, and growing in length.

Not a word was spoken as Billy untied his rope belt and let his shorts drop to the deck.

But then Foster spoke. “Is it true what they say? That you want it hard and rough?”

“Yes,” Billy answered, feeling himself going hard at the mere mention of it.

Foster smiled and flicked the strap.

As Foster pulled Billy’s ass on and off his short, thick cock—pleasing enough for Billy because of its girth and because it was long enough to pass his prostrate and because Foster had the power to ram it hard—and Adam looked up at the fucking with interest, Billy realized that Foster had not been the man of the night. He originally had rather thought he had been. The nocturnal lover had been smooth chested, and there was no doubt that his cock was long, if not thick.

Still, this Lieutenant Foster could fuck forever and provided a powerful ram.

* * * *

When they arrived in the Azores and the Philadelphia‘s crew was being reassembled, Billy approached Captain Bainbridge.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Captain.”

“Yes, what is it, son?” Bainbridge answered. He was beaming. His ship and crew had performed well, and the burden of responsibility was off his shoulders now. As soon as the Philadelphia was provisioned, it would be sailing into the Mediterranean.

“I wish to ship on the Philadelphia, sir. I wish to join the Navy.”

“An admirable wish, sir,” Bainbridge responded. “But officers are trained back at homeport, and you have the Elizabeth to husband until provisions can be made.”

“My uncle has lawyers for the Elizabeth and it will be months before anything can be done. And my wish has always been to go to sea. As you’ve seen yourself, I have training for the life, and I’m a fast learner. And as far as being an officer, I don’t ask that. I wish to sign on as a sailor.”

Clearly pleased, the captain gave in without much resistance, although he did say, “We’ll see how long without being an officer,” as he could not fathom the nephew of a shipper working before the mast for long. The young man was small for the Navy and much too boyish looking for his own good—but it was true that he had shown talent for working in the rigging. Besides, his first officer, Lieutenant Foster, had suggested that the young man be recruited for the Philadelphia, if that was possible. And, Bainbridge reasoned, Foster was a sterling judge of men’s talents.

Billy transferred to the Philadelphia and, although the captain agreed he should not eat with the officers, Bainbridge just could not countenance berthing Billy with the common sailors. He assigned him to a small cabin of his own with not much more room for anything but the berth. Lieutenant Foster had made this suggestion and Bainbridge judged it to be a good one. Foster smiled when Bainbridge agreed to it.

The work of preparing the Philadelphia for sail again was harder than that of keeping her on the sea and, again, the crew was driven to exhaustion, Billy no less than the others. Even most of the officers were hard pressed. Foster was too senior for manual labor, but he kept form by taking the strap to either Adam or Billy at least once a day in Billy’s small cabin, an activity that neither raised objections to.

Billy was perplexed, though. If Foster had not been his lover of the night, who had been? It was an experience that Billy ached to enjoy again. It was much different from the punishing sex Billy assumed he must have. If sex like this was available to him, perhaps he did not need the danger and the punishment anymore.

He pined for a repeat but reasoned that everyone aboard was probably just as weary at night as he was.

The third night in port, he felt the man slip in beside him again and a hand start to move over his body. He reached over as well and took possession of the long, long cock. Both panted slightly as they worked each other’s cock and mashed their lips together. The figure sank below Billy and he raised and spread his legs to give room for the face and tongue at his hole. Strong hands cupped his buttocks, raising his pelvis to the searching tongue.

Billy moaned as his buttocks dropped, the tongue was replaced by invading fingers, and the mouth closed over his cock. He writhed, begging, without heed, for a proper fuck, as the mouth and fingers continued working him until he had ejaculated and the lover of the night had swallowed his cum.

And then the figure was coming up from below him so that Billy was lying on top of the man, facing the cabin ceiling, his head only coming up to between the man’s muscular pecs.

“Dig in your heels and raise your hips. Give the cock length to fuck,” a low voice growled.

Billy gladly did as instructed, more than ready for the cock. Still, he gasped at the long slide into him. There was no slow build to frenzy this time. The cock was pistoning his channel hard and deep. A fist was loosely encasing Billy’s cock, which slid in and out with the rhythm and the power of the fuck up into him from below. He raised his arms and tried to pull the man’s face down to his raised face for a kiss. But they just didn’t reach. The man was too tall. Billy tried to turn his head to the side to reach a nipple with his mouth, with the same lack of success. That was when he noticed, however, that his cheek was rubbing against dense chest hair.

This was not the lover of the first night.

With a jerk the man spilled his seed deep inside Billy. Billy ejaculated again in the encased fist himself.

Billy collapsed on top of the tall, muscular body below him. The man was holding him tight against his chest. His cock was still fully encased, still deep inside Billy. It was throbbing, and there was every indication it would harden again quickly. This was a man of youthful vigor. But it was not the lover of the first night.

Both were panting hard, but that slowly receding—the man was recovering faster than Billy was. He was half hard already.

“Who are you? You are not the man of before.”

“But the cocking is good enough for you, isn’t it?” the voice in the night growled.

“Yes, but . . .”

“There’s no secret why others are at you. You’re the best piece in the fuckin’ Navy. I came to fuck, not to talk. And I will fuck until my cum trickles out of your ears.”

Billy moaned at the image of that. This nocturnal lover already was more demanding than the earlier one had been.

“Roll over. On your knees. Now. We’ve got far to go before morning.”

The man gave a guttural laugh, and Billy answered with another deep-throated moan.

With that, he pushed Billy off him, turned him, slapped him hard on the butt, put a heavily muscled arm under his belly and brought him up onto his knees, his head facing the head of the bed. Billy grabbed for the leather straps nailed to the wall above the top of the berth to aid with steadying oneself in stormy seas. These certainly were stormy seas.

The man crouched over Billy’s raised buttocks, thrust hard and deep inside him, and began furiously riding his ass again. He was gripping Billy’s waist with one hand and had snaked the other one around until he could grip Billy’s cock again. He rode Billy hard to Billy’s third jacking. But the man kept on riding. Billy’s knees gave out and the man rode him down to the surface of the mattress.

Eventually, the man came again. He lowered his chest on Billy’s back, and Billy felt once again how densely hairy it was.

This time the man was ready for lip work, and Billy dutifully turned his mouth to be taken brutally and possessively. Billy moaned as he felt the man go hard inside him once more and the cock start to move again, in, out, in, out.

It would be a long, taxing, glorious night.

But it was a different man. And the cock was almost as long, but again relatively thin, as the first man’s. So, it wasn’t Foster either.

It had been great sex. Hard, yes, but not exactly rough. And certainly not punishing—not hurtful. And the man had thanked him for the four athletic ejaculations late in the night after he’d already taken full control—more, he had said, than any other sweet piece could give him—before leaving before dawn—enough before dawn that Billy couldn’t identify him anymore than he could identify his first man of the night.

But who were they?