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."