Submariner’s Rebound

I went down on my knees and took Beau's engorged cock with my mouth, as he obviously wanted me to do. Andy came around in back of me and put his hands on my shoulders. Turning my face to the side periodically, I serviced his cock too. They stopped me and brushed my mouth and hands away before either of them came.

Andy withdrew a few paces, taking his cock in his own hand, and Beau pushed me back on the bed, on my stomach, and went down on his knees behind me. I moaned and groaned as he worked me open again with his tongue and fingers. I'd thought I already was as open as I could be, but he proved me wrong.

It had been nothing like this before with Brad. The cramped conditions on the submarine and the short opportunities we had been given made sex with Brad more of a quick poke and squirt. Andy had fucked me well, better than Brad did. Beau fucked me totally.

He turned me over onto my back on the bed, my butt on the edge and my legs hanging down the end of the bed, spread, with his knees between them. He stood over me, rolling a condom on his cock, and explaining explicitly what he was going to do with me--to me--as I lay there on my back, looking up at his gigantic erection, trembling and whimpering in anticipation. He took his time at this stage, maximizing my arousal and fearful anticipation. The possessive pressure of his knees on my inner thighs, slowly spreading and raising my legs, told me all I needed to know of what was to come from him.

When he'd crowned his cock, he grasped my ankles, raised and split my legs more, nestled in between my thighs, and entered me strongly and deeply. I was physically ready for him and mentally overwrought with the wait he had forced on me. He set my feet down to grip the edge of the mattress, my legs bent. His hands went to my butt cheeks, which he squeezed and pulled apart. With the leverage of my feet, I raised my pelvis to him. We held as I opened and adjusted to him, panting hard and whimpering. He began to move inside me, and we were off and fucking.

He was crouched over me, hovering over me, and looking intensely down into my eyes to capture the effect of this total taking on me, moving in and out, in and out in shallow thrusts. And then ever faster, ever deeper, long, deep thrusts, bringing heavy panting and groaning from me. I bucked with him, rocking my hips. His shaft possessed me totally. All of my sensations went to him inside me, moving deeply inside me, setting the muscles of my channel walls rippling over the cock, making love to it as he made love to me--no, as he made possessing fuck to me. I raised my torso to his chest and I clung to him closely, whispering "Yes, yes. Take it all," to him, setting my hips in motion to go with him in a totally synchronized fuck.

This wasn't anything like the quick opportunity poke of Brad on the submarine, where we could be discovered and caused to part at any moment. Beau took his time. He fucked me and fucked me and fucked me, taking me to the edge and backing off and then taking me there again, each time higher into the pain-pleasure stratosphere.

When Beau had ejaculated inside me, he pulled out, turned me on the bed, and maneuvered me fully on top of it.

"Nice, very nice," he murmured, and my spirits soared. Take that, Brad, I thought. Nothing wrong with me in that department, Brad.

As he withdrew, Andy, fully erect again, climbed up on the bed, ran an arm under my belly to flip me over and bring me up on all fours, and, keeping it there, mounted me on top, thrust inside me, and fucked me doggy style. He ran his free hand into my hair, gripped it, and cruelly pulled my head back, arching my back up toward his chest. His thrust was stronger and more cruel than Beau's had been--maybe compensation for years of knowing Beau was slightly thicker and longer than he was. It was all new to me--the freedom from having to be surreptitious, hurried, and silent with the act and having the freedom to be vocal in the taking and room to use refined positions.

They fucked me without asking permission or explaining anything, and they spent as much time kissing and fondling each other as they did me as they used me as they liked. I was just a casual lay for the night, or so I thought. I was learning so much new about sex with a man and experiencing such new heights of lust and sexual satisfaction, though, that I was docile for them and let them do with me what they wanted.

I said little to them, but did ask, "Is this your thing? You bring guys here and share them?"

"Nearly every weekend, yes," Andy said. "We really like the little, fresh guys, like you. You're doing great."

"You don't have any trouble getting guys to do this for you?"

"They aren't usually as easy as you have been," Andy said, with a laugh. "You wanted it bad. You were a pushover."

"But they aren't usually as good a lay as you are," Beau added. The compliment made up for Andy's indictment.

Later I thought perhaps I was being too docile and willing.

After Andy fucked me the second time, the two of them went out to the kitchen area, which was just outside the bedroom door and in clear sight of the bed, while I stretched out on my back, moaning from having been power fucked multiple times in quick succession, trying to recover. I watched them, naked and hard bodied, perch on kitchen stools at the counter, sip beer, and talk about anything and everything in their lives other than having a small, young sailor in their bed who they'd both just fucked.

I thought the evening--and the experience--were over. I was wrong.

I heard them switch gears, both of them looking into the bedroom at me, on the bed.

"You think he'll do it?" Beau said.

"Hell, yes, he's begging for it," Andy answered.

They came back into the bedroom, and Andy pulled me up off the bed and put me on his cock in a standing fuck. He asked no permissions, taking it all for granted, and, moaning, I made no demands of him beyond whispering, "Be good to me, Andy." He laughed.

"We'll both be good to you," he murmured, causing me to moan.

Now, a standing fuck I was quite familiar with, as it's how Brad and I often had to do it on the sub, Brad standing in a crouch, and me plastered to the front of him, his dick up my ass, my arms around his neck, and my knees hooked on his thighs. That's how Andy was doing it in the cramped space between the bed and the bathroom area too. But this was different from what Brad did. Andy held steady, cock solidly, throbbingly up my ass, while Beau came in behind me, worked his cock into my ass too on top of Andy's. As I huffed and hyperventilated and did a bit of cursing, they double fucked me. As I was able to sheath them both, though, I settled down to moaning softly and my cursing changed to something more like, "Fuck, yes. Do me. Both of you screw me!"

They kissed over my shoulder, making love to each other as much as to me.

I was exhausted when they were finished, and thus I had no strength to resist Beau carrying me, all of us still naked, out to the living area and over to the ladder I'd only been partially aware of before. Now I saw that there was an enclosed loft area over the powder room-foyer-kitchen area with two louvered windows overlooking the living-dining room.

"Go up the ladder," Beau growled.

"You don't have to do this," I said, realizing that, if I went up there, once they'd taken the ladder away, I'd be their prisoner. "I'm letting you have whatever you want from me. You don't have to--"

"It's part of heightening the arousal--for all of us," Beau said. "You being at our mercy and us having you at our mercy makes it all the more arousing. Get up there. Everything you'll need is up there."

He was right. Being a prisoner and having them take it from me whenever they wanted to over the entire weekend added something extra to the experience. I'd made the mistake of telling me how long my furlough was, and it was into the new year--long enough for them to ravish me again and again.

I never told them to stop.

Completely at their mercy, mesmerized by the evening of sex, and exhausted, I climbed the ladder, opened the shutter of the window it was under, and rolled into the loft. Beau took the ladder away. I effectively was a prisoner now in Beau and Andy's loft. This wasn't over. I was overwhelmed, but I didn't scream my frustration because I was having the fucking of my life. Even the frustration was arousing in ways I'd never experienced before.

The loft area surprised me. I was able to stand up. It was well furnished, with a twin bed taking up most of the end I had rolled into and with a chair and small table beyond that, even with a TV, a few books, and a pile of men's fuck magazines. At the far end of the loft area there was a compact bathroom, such as they had for private train compartments and in submarines like I lived in. The john and sink were cramped and the compartment was also a shower. The walls of the loft were lined with framed photographs that made me believe what the men said their weekend activities featured. They were all photos of young men like me, sandwiched between Beau and Andy on the bed in this loft--they were all of double penetrations at the moment of total ecstasy. I looked around the loft at where the walls met the ceiling and found the two cameras, focused on the bed from two different angles.

Would I be joining these other young men on this wall? The expression on their faces in the photos indicated that they were in Nirvana. I wouldn't deny Andy and Beau. I wouldn't deny them anything now.

It wasn't a one-night stand. The ocean was just beyond the balcony off the living-dining area, on the other side of a sand dune held down with tropical foliage. But I never got to the ocean.

Beau and Andy brought me food in my loft prison, making me move to the far side of the loft as they put the ladder back in place and used it. And they came up into the loft individually and together and fucked me throughout the three days of my release time. They each fucked me in various positions individually on the bed, and they also doubled me twice more, with one of them lying under me and the other kneeling between my thighs. They gave me blow jobs and I gave them blow jobs. I rode their cocks and they rode my ass. The flash of the cameras told me it was all be recorded in detail.

The first time they DPd me up there, at the moment of ecstasy for me, when I shot my load with two cocks moving inside me, the cameras went off. It didn't surprise me one bit. They continued clicking as, first Andy, and then Beau, achieved their own moment of ecstasy inside me. I was going to be on their wall. For all I knew I was going to be for sale on the Internet. I was desired; my sexual release was photogenic, attracting to men. Somehow that lifted my spirit--validated me. After that I gave them even more of whatever they wanted. They brought out the toys and I learned acts and positions and sexual satisfactions I never had imagined existed. They photographed me taking an enormous dildo and strings of anal beads, bound and fucked. That told me I was a star. I left the loft fully indoctrinated in the role of an experienced submissive.

I took it all without objection or trying to escape. For me it was an escape and a "serves him right" for having been rejected by Brad. I'd loved Brad, or at least had thought of it as love and had given him what he wanted because I wanted him in so many other ways than just sex. I was still just a kid, on my first adventure away from home--nineteen even though I'd told them I was almost twenty-one. They weren't dummies, though. They had my wallet and ID. They knew how young and fresh I was. I had wanted a relationship--to be loved and protected and cherished.

Well, I wasn't fresh anymore.

I didn't love either Beau or Andy, but I had a ball being balled by them each and together, and it was an education I was grateful for. I'd been shy with the possibility of going with a guy before--anyone but Brad. There was no shyness in taking cock when Beau and Andy were through with me. I wasn't even shy in front of the camera now. I was growing up. I was learning the difference between love and just good-looking guys getting their rocks off. I found I liked getting my rocks off. The clicking camera told me I was desirable. I didn't really need a relationship to have sex and get my rocks off--and to enjoy knowing I was getting someone else's rocks off too.

Andy and Beau were gentlemen and honored service in the Navy. I did believe they'd been in the Navy. There was a photo on a shelf in the condo of them, younger, arms around each other, in sailors' whites and standing in front of a Navy cruiser. And there was another of them, older but still arm in arm, standing in front of a tourist boat. So, I believed much of what little of themselves they'd told me. They kept track of when I had to be back at the USS Wyoming in Kings Bay, Georgia, and they saw that I got there. Andy drove the Camaro--and that was my one regret; that I got to drive the Camaro so little--to within a few blocks of the rental car office, with Beau driving me in his car. After I'd turned the Camaro back in, they drove me to the gates of the naval base.

Unlike Brad, they didn't just walk away from me. Well, they drove away, but they complimented me before they went; wished me well; handed me a pile of cash and a waiver to sign for the photography, which, what the hell, I signed, and I took the money; and they told me they'd like to do it again someday with me.

I'm ashamed to say I would have liked them to do that with me again any day. But I know they were just being polite. They didn't give me contact information, and Andy put me in the trunk of his car from wherever they lived to the Flying K truck stop at a ramp onto I-95. I'd never be able to find their condo on my own. I didn't have the time to locate all of the drawbridges on the northern Florida coast and then look for old-style yellow-wood condo buildings on the beach. The time I'd spent there hadn't gotten further than the bed and the loft with a cock or two up my ass. I intended some day to go to St. Augustine and see if they really were in the tourist cruise boat trade there, but I never did.

The real surprise of the weekend, though, came as I was being piped back on board the Wyoming. There to meet me at the sub side of the gangway was First Class Petty Officer Brad.

"Brad. I thought you were on the Alaska now."

"The Navy thought I was going to be too," Brad said. "They had just up and transferred me and I had to get my tail over there pronto to get the orders rescinded. I wouldn't leave you willingly, although that's not the reason I gave them for staying on the Wyoming. I was so shittin' mad I didn't even have time to say a proper good-bye to you. It's good having you back, Paul."

"It's good being back, sir," I said. He was my superior officer, so I'd follow his commands. I wasn't his anymore now, though. I'd have good times with him--and he'd have better times with me now that I'd gotten a usable sex education. But I was looking beyond him at the big black bull of a sailor, Demaine, who I remembered from the communal showers during the last cruise. He was even better hung than either Beau or Andy were, and he'd given me the eye in the showers. I'd been scared of the size of him then. I wasn't now. With what I'd learned this weekend, I'd let Brad fuck me, but there was no reason why I couldn't give it to others too. I'd rebounded nicely, I thought.