Date: Mon, 6 Jun 2005 00:01:56 -0400
From: edcwriter@yahoo.com
Subject: FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 7

FOR GOD & COUNTRY - 7

Copyright 2005 by Carl Mason and Ed Collins

All rights reserved.  Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal
enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without
the written permission of the authors.  However based on real events and
places, "For God & Country" is strictly fictional.  Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.  As in real life, however, the sexual themes unfold
gradually.  If you would like to read other Mason-Collins stories, you
might turn to "Out of the Rubble," "Castle Margarethen," "The Priest and
the Pauper," and "High Plains Doctor" which are archived in Nifty's
"Historical" section.  Comments on the story are appreciated and may be
addressed to the authors at edcwriter@yahoo.com .

"For God and Country" is much indebted to a long out-of-print work titled
"Ask No Quarter" by George Marsh (Sun Dial Press, 1946).  In many ways, it
is an "alternative" retelling of parts of that grand story.  To be sure,
most of the content is unique to this yarn.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both
adults and teenagers.  As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the
personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults.  If you are not of
legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you
trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral
dilemmas in your life, please leave.  Finally, remember that maturity
generally demands that anything other than safe sex is sheer insanity!


CHAPTER 7

(Revisiting Chapter 6)

"Do you think they are worrying about their 'virtue'?" Jeremy chortled as
he cuddled up to Hugh after they have finally retired.  "Little do they
know, my beloved.  Little do they know!" Hugh giggled.  LITTLE DID THEY
KNOW, HOWEVER, WHAT LURKED IN THE HEART OF A FEMALE HURRICANE NAMED BECKY!

(Continuing Our Story - Becky the Terrible II)

Following a lovely breakfast served in the Captain's cabin, cushioned
chairs were set up on a protected area of the quarterdeck.  The morning was
delightfully warm and sunny.  Zeb was at their beck and call, serving tea
and hot soup as if they were on the finest British ship.  Indeed, Lady
Agatha sniffed, she couldn't imagine more attentive service on the flagship
of the Royal Navy!  Further, unlike the British navy, the fact that the men
seemed happy and working in concert with their officers was not lost on
this intelligent and powerful woman.  Both Captain Allen and Mr. Stuart
frequently paused for a few words of polite conversation. Becky, of course,
was near out of her mind with excitement.  One might guess that the sight
of so many handsome men, now generally in slops or skilts and naked to the
waist as they went about their duties in the hot tropical sun, did not
markedly detract from her pleasure!  (Nor, were the truth known, did
Becky's interest seem to lessen the enthusiasm of the crew!)

It wasn't long, of course, before Becky turned out to be a major handful.
Every bit as intelligent and headstrong as her mother, the 16 year old
daughter of Lady Agatha would grow up to be one of the very first
nineteenth century British women scientists...however rare, a noted
anatomist respected throughout Europe.  Right now, however, she was in the
throes of adolescence - and, to put it gently, a pain in the nether
regions.  For starters, she fell madly in love with Andy Browne whom she
had encountered the night before and whom she noticed holystoning the deck.
That gorgeous thick brown hair, the top of those heavy shoulders, those
rippling muscles...  After she had asked Jeremy if she might speak with the
young man and a bosun's mate had sent him below to towel off and put on a
shirt, he stood before her uneasily on the quarterdeck.  Fortunate that he
lost nothing more than a few minutes conversation and a lock of his brown
hair to Lady Agatha's sewing scissors, he finally returned to the spar deck
to the barely concealed snickers of his buddies.  (At lunch, they were far
less restrained, taking exquisite pleasure in torturing their buddy!  At
least, Andy thought, his secret was safer than it had even been!)

That afternoon, Andy asked if he might speak with the Captain.  Sitting far
forward in a protected spot on the spar deck, the poor boy explained that
he was being DELUGED with messages from Miss Becky!  She would come to him
at any hour, in any place.  She would DIE if she didn't feel his lips on
hers, etc., etc., etc.  Perhaps she could arrange for her mother to be
otherwise occupied, and he could steal into their cabin!  The youth's face
showed his agony.  However understanding of the boy's disinterest, Hugh had
to steel himself not to break into hysterical laughter!  Taking mercy on
the beautiful lad, Allen finally suggested that he speak with her,
explaining that he had a girl at home - or, if he preferred, that he lived
on the edge of the wilderness in wild Indian country and could not leave
home due to a sickly mother!  (Though he did his best, the Captain
privately admitted to Jeremy that this was a role in which he was not only
inexperienced, but thoroughly uncomfortable!)

Dinner that night went far to restore Hugh's confidence.  The event - for
it was far more than a mere "meal" - was almost perversely luxurious.  The
finest wines flowed like water.  The conversation was as sparkling as it
was erudite (Thank God for the surgeon!); the finest seafood that the
Caribbean could offer had never been more appetizingly prepared by Jean
Pierre in the galley.  The service performed by two of the most
accomplished young men on shipboard - sons of rich Newport merchants - was
flawless.  The piece de resistance, however, came at the end of the fine
meal when Hugh brought forth two leather cases.  The first, holding a
single string of exquisite pearls, was presented to Becky.  The second,
containing a gorgeous jeweled necklace that had been claimed by Captain
Coffee when the Lass of Tyneside had been taken (Chapter 2), was presented
to a breathless Lady Agatha.  "We hope," the Captain murmured gallantly,
"that you will accept these small tokens of our respect and remember more
than the...difficult moments of this adventure."  The ladies whispered
their thanks and promised that the Governor would hear of the GENTLEMEN who
had entertained his loved ones.  (Lady Agatha kept to herself the fact that
she would also tell her good husband that the Eagle was a tremendously
dangerous opponent.)

Well satisfied, Hugh and Jeremy were enjoying a fine whiskey before
retiring when a tap was heard at the door.  Jeremy rose to admit an
exhausted and much vexed Andy Browne.  "It didn't work, sir; it didn't
work," he moaned to his Captain.  "I have just received a note pinned to a
stocking that begs me to meet her in the hold.  I think she has been
talking with those damned ship's boys!"  "Come, Andy, all is not lost.  Let
us put our heads together," Hugh murmured as he poured a stiff shot for the
young lad.  "Jeremy, we can not leave this brave lad in the clutches of
womankind.  Work with me to devise a plan!  Jeremy thought for a moment
before asking, "Andy, if you had your personal choice of the four most
beautiful and personable young men on the Eagle, whom would you choose?"
Sipping his whiskey appreciatively, a twinkle appearing in his eye, the
youth whispered, "Well, sir, I think I should simply stay right in this
room - though I fear that is not what you are asking me."  As Hugh and
Jeremy chuckled, Andy continued.  "If put to the test, sir, I think that I
would choose Nathan Pawley and Tyler Smith - they're 17.  Then there's Sam
Easton - he's 18...and a real hunk.  And, of course, there's the
incomparable Joe Lawrence who's 19."  "You're sure that these men are real
Lotharios?" Hugh interjected.  "I only know Joe by appearance, sir.  One
doesn't forget his physique.  As for the others, they unfortunately are all
of that and more.  They have a nose for pussy that would put the most
feared bloodhound to shame!"  "Good!" Hugh exclaimed, slapping his hand
down on the arm of his chair.  "Now, Andy, write a short note to your young
lady, telling her that you will be unable to make this...tryst because your
Captain has assigned you to a special mission."  (Andy glared daggers at
his Captain when he mentioned HIS young lady, but Hugh pretended that he
had seen nothing.) Once written, he handed the note to Jeremy, asking him
to give it to a bosun's mate for prompt delivery to Miss Becky.  When
Jeremy returned within minutes, he stretched, yawned, and said, "The Mate
and I are about to set off on a 'special mission'.  If you wish to
volunteer, you may join us."  Barely muting a yelp of joy, a gorgeous
brown-haired kid was out of his slops and shirt before Hugh could rise from
his chair and reach for a muscular arm or thigh!

In the morning, the Captain met with the "Sexy Foursome" in his cabin.
"Men," he stated, I have a serious problem and need help."  The men snapped
to rigid attention.  You guys are familiar with 15 and 16 year old girls,
aren't you?"  Despite their discipline, snorts and even one muffled guffaw
arose from the three younger men.  "One of your shipmates, Andy Browne, is
up against it.  He has a girl at home with their baby. " ("Oh, so that's
it," one of the boys muttered.)  Ignoring the interruption, the Captain
continued.  "Miss Becky is driving him up the wall.  We've got to get her
off his back!  I'm told that you four are the most accomplished lovers in
the crew."  Proud, slightly lecherous smirks tugged at the lips of the
three younger men.  Would you consider giving this vixen so
much...attention that she would forget Andy?  I'd be in your debt were it
possible.  Of course, there can never be a word to anyone!  Understand?"
Sam Easton snapped to even more rigid attention - were that possible - and
saluted.  "Sir, consider it done!"  "You're my boys," Hugh murmured.  "The
bosun's mates will get the word to give you a little leeway," he added
before snapping, "Dismissed!"  "Poor Miss Becky," he thought to himself as
he grinned as only a Captain well satisfied with himself can grin.

Poor Miss Becky?  Shit!  The morning wasn't out before Tyler and, an hour
later, Nathan came to him with their tails between their legs, tears in
their eyes, and BEGGED him to relieve them of the assignment...for personal
reasons.  Worse, not long after lunch, the proud Sam Easton came to him,
holding a forearm that bore a nasty gash.  "Slipped in the rigging, sir.  I
guess I can't...  Hugh was taken aback. He had seen a lot of wounds in his
life - and THAT one looked self-inflicted!  "SIR!" Sam burst out.  "I just
lied to you.  I did it - and I'll take whatever I have coming.  I just
can't take any more of Miss Becky.  Not to dishonor a woman, sir, but she's
pretty...weird."  Hugh pulled affectionately on the boy's ear and said,
"Don't think any more about it, Sam.  You have nothing 'coming to you'
other than my thanks for having tried.  Now get below and have the surgeon
take care of that cut!"  "Yes, sir!" the tearful hunk choked, tucked his
tail between his legs, and went below.  "What the hell is going on here?"
Sam breathed.  Looking up, he saw Lady Agatha reading on the quarterdeck
beneath the awning that had been erected for their guests.  But where was
Becky - and where was Joe Lawrence?

Catching up with Jeremy, Hugh pulled him aside and asked for a quick run
down on Lawrence.  "Well, sir," the Mate began, "you know most of it.  Joe
is the son of one of the South County sharpshooters whom Captain Coffee
brought with him to the Eagle.  He was raised by his father - evidently a
real isolate - who subsisted on shooting and selling game.  When his father
died in the battle off Block Island (Chapter 1), he stayed on the Eagle.
God knows, the boy is as handsome as they come and has a fantastic build.
As far as anyone can tell, he's intelligent, though I suspect he's
basically naive.  He rarely speaks and only interacts with others when
forced to do so.  The other boys consider him 'odd' and generally leave him
alone.  I came in contact with him in the fo'c'sle, was impressed by his
looks and 'something else' deep inside him, and have always tried to bring
him out of his shell.  Haven't had much luck," he added with a shake of his
head.  "That's about all I know, sir."  (Not surprisingly, there were some
facts that the Mate didn't know.  For instance, to say that the 19 year old
was "intelligent" was a major understatement.  In another world, he would
have been a major intellect and leader.  The truth was that he was bored
out of his mind by shipboard life and had found that the only way he could
cope with it was by desiring nothing and "numbing" his mind and body to all
possible feelings.  It was also true that he had been amused by being
assigned to the "Becky team" and, having few inhibitions, was not at all
resistant to the "project" in which she was now involving him.)

In the depths of the hold - shared with her by the ship's boys - Becky lay
next to Joe on a great pile of folded canvas.  "If you're not a baby like
the others, Joe, answer a question for me.  Can a woman have physical NEEDS
like a man and ASSERT them just like a man does?  You know what I'm talking
about!  Just go into any bar in any country and look at what's going on at
any table!"  Joe looked at her, her question stirring the mental vacuum
that he normally tried to maintain.  A faint light glimmering in the depths
of his eyes, he answered, "Yes.  If she doesn't, she isn't worth any more
than the walking dead that surround us."  "What," she inquired slyly, "if
she desires to touch a man like men dream of touching women?"  "In that
case," Joe asserted dogmatically, "she ought to make her desires
known...just as men do."  "Would you consider removing your shirt and
allowing me to touch you?" she whispered.

Having few inhibitions about his body, Joe removed his shirt and lay back
on the canvas.  The tip of her tongue protruding slightly between her pink
lips, Becky ran a fingertip over Joe heavy biceps and briefly touched the
soft hair on the back of his husky forearms before wetting her finger and
moving to his heavy shoulders and pecs.  "This does not bother you, fair
Joseph?"  "No, milady.  Enjoy that which is freely offered."  The moistened
fingertip, followed by the tip of her tongue, touched a nipple.  A faint
gush of air passed from the blond youth's lips.  "You felt something,
Joseph?"  "I...may have, but, milady, I am not sure I WANT to feel
anything.  It only brings sadness and hurt."  "Do you still believe a woman
should make her desires known...just as men do?"  "Yes, milady, I do."
"Are you sufficiently brave to remove your lower garment and allow me to
touch you - or will you run like the others?" she whispered.

The beautiful blond youth, his hair hanging boyishly down over his
forehead, lay naked beside the daughter of Lady Agatha, his muscular chest
rising and falling peacefully.  She toyed with the hair that led from his
navel down towards his thick bush.  "You men...  All this hair conceals the
beauty of your body.  I want to remove it," she said capriciously.  "It
matters not to me, my lady," the lad murmured with disinterest.  "Do as you
wish."  She removed a flask from the pocket of the smock that covered her
gown.  "My friend always gives me some of this when her Lieutenant visits
London.  It is cool, but not cold."  First, she lightly coated his lower
face with a handkerchief moistened in the liquid.  She then rubbed Joe's
heavy arms, lifting them gently to moisten the pits below.  Finally, she
gently rubbed the liquid into his torso down over the taut stomach to the
thick line of cartilage that separated his upper and lower body.  Moments
later, she simply used her hand to dust the dried blond hair from his upper
body.  The boy's thick, beautifully shaped muscles, their full beauty
disclosed to her eyes, gleamed in the candlelight.  Continuing, she applied
the liquid to his public bush before lifting and thoroughly coating the
long, thick penis and the scrotum that held his egg-sized balls.  (She was
surprised that both her hands were barely able to cup the heavy load.)
Quickly, she passed down to his long thighs, powerful calves, and feet.
"Turn over and kneel for me, brave Joseph," she whispered.  "Yes, spread
your thighs wide and nestle your head in your forearms."  Passing her
moistened handkerchief gently over his broad back, she applied the liquid
to his solid buttocks, working it into the cleft, the perineum, and the
back of the long scrotum that hung well down between his thighs.  She
finished by wiping the back of his thighs, calves, and ankles.  As before,
she waited a few minutes before dusting the hair from the reverse of his
handsome frame.  "Return to you back, brave knight," she whispered.

Gently, the maiden manipulated his genitals, removing the dust of hair that
had once been so prominent.  She only had to blow on the remnants of the
hair that had thickly covered his thighs and calves - and even the tops of
his toes - for it to fall away.  She sat back for a moment on her heels and
gazed upon the body of a young knight whose smooth golden skin gleamed as
if on fire in the candlelight.  In days long past, set in stone, it would
have proudly decorated the top of a king's sarcophagus that rested in the
side chapel of a medieval cathedral.  Noticing tears in the corners of his
blue eyes, she hesitated.  Reaching down, she pressed a finger to her lips
and held it against his forehead.  "I fear going further," she confessed.
"I would not hurt thee for the world."  "Be brave and do not follow the
pack," Joseph whispered breathlessly.  "Follow your desires.  Who knows?  I
may yet awaken from my long sleep."  "You will not hate me if my desires be
wanton?" she asked.  "'Wanton' is a cruel word beloved of those who would
control others," he stated emphatically.  "Besides, I shall never hate you,
milady," the young man replied, single tears beginning to trickle down his
cheeks.

Joseph lay on his back, muscular arms holding his smooth legs back and
widely separated.  Kneeling at the edge of the canvas platform, Becky
gently lathed and nibbled his anus, periodically circling it with the tip
of her tongue.  "Oh-h-h-h-h," the boy softly moaned.  "You felt it!" Becky
squealed.  "Yes, and it didn't hurt," Joe murmured in surprise.  When his
anus opened, her tongue probed the opening.  Quickly, she withdrew a vial
of fine oil from her smock and lubricated her fingers.  Gently, she
inserted one finger.  "Ah-h-h-h-h," Joe breathed.  As his anal muscles
gradually loosened, a second and even a third followed until Joe was
frantically pressing back against the delicious pressure.  "More, Becky!"
he gasped passionately.  Holding the fingers of her tiny hand as close
together as possible, she pressed the entire lubricated hand into Joe who
accepted it with little effort and great groans of pleasure, especially
when her fingertips brushed his prostate.  One would have thought he wanted
to impale himself on her dainty forearm!  "You will have to thank my
girlfriend in Antigua for that which follows," she half- laughed!  Joe
looked up breathlessly to see a long, thick cylinder, solid albeit somewhat
flexible, and heavily oiled.  It looked vaguely like a massive penis.  As
she withdrew her tiny hand from his anus, he felt her begin to insert the
heavy object that she called a "dildo."  Oh, God, it felt so good!

When she had inserted all but the handle, she began to work it in and out.
Joe looked down to see the head of his penis fully uncovered, unbelievably
swollen, dark rose-red in color, and covered with a clear, flowing liquid.
As the pressure within his anal canal and lower colon reached a crescendo
and his testicles tightened, Becky bent forward, covered his glans with her
mouth, and sucked vigorously.  The once virgin youth exploded with all of
the force of a volcano.

As they lay on their rough bed, Joe slowly recovering, he looked fondly at
Becky.  "And do your fantasies give me some guidance on how I can best
pleasure you, dear lady?" he asked...quite boyishly.  "Oh, no, my handsome
Joseph.  Those fantasies are reserved strictly for my beloved in Antigua.
Today's problem concerned only how a civilized and compassionate woman
might deal more directly with men. I see that it is possible, though, I
suspect, only with a male as enlightened and brave as yourself."  Joe felt
his head whirling, but his confusion was cut short by a faint cry of "SAIL
HO!" that came from far above.  "Come, dear Becky, we must both return to
our stations!" he gasped, helping her to rise and rapidly throwing on his
clothes

As Joe burst out onto the spar deck, his disheveled blond hair blowing in
the stiff breeze, he almost ran into Jeremy.  "Pardon me, Mr. Stewart.  My
apologies, sir!"  "Joe!  We've been concerned about you - but you're...ok!
You look great!"  "I FEEL great, sir!  Have I ever thanked you for all
you've done to try to help me?" he babbled.  "I AM grateful, you know!"
Jeremy looked at the highly excited youth in considerable confusion.  "If I
can ever help again, I am here, you know?"  "Yes, sir, I know," the
handsome blond exclaimed - and I thank you."  Looking eastwards, he asked,
"Is that the first of the Danish sloops?"  "I would imagine so," Jeremy
answered, wondering how in hell the men always knew what was happening
before the officers!

(The Exchange)

Within the hour, Kaptajn Frans Stemme of the Royal Danish Navy sloop
"Svale" [Swallow] was seated in the Captain's cabin, enjoying a coffee.
While pleasant, he attitude was entirely business-like.  "You understand
what will happen tomorrow?" he asked Hugh.  "Yes," the tall, blond,
American replied.  "At 0900 hours, land time, you will receive the hostages
from the Eagle, and the RDN sloop "Baltisk" [Baltic] under Kaptajn Erik
Kiersted will receive the ransom chest from a British vessel.  Other than
these four ships, all other shipping will avoid the quarantined area
indicated on this map.  When your specialists have determined that both the
hostages and the gold are genuine, you will simultaneously release the
hostages to the British and the gold to us.  Kaptajn Kiersted will remain
with us for some minutes while we weigh the gold and provide him with ten
percent for transmission to your Government on St. Thomas.  The two
combatant ships will be free to move only when released by you.  Is that
essentially correct?"  "Yes, Captain.  Very good.  I shall now take your
leave.  The Svale will remain in the vicinity until morning.  Thank you for
the Columbian coffee, by the way.  It was most pleasing."

Breakfast in the morning was a somewhat bittersweet affair.  Lady Agatha
and her daughter were happy to be going home, but they both recognized that
their treatment aboard the Eagle had been exemplary.  Furthermore, Becky's
feelings were, if possible, even more confused than when her bosun's chair
had been hoisted on board the American sloop of war.  She so looked forward
to returning to her Francine in Antigua.  They departed the ship with
courtesies on every side.

The exchange went exactly as planned.  Hugh was somewhat amused to note
that Kaptajn Kiersted even brought a properly-sized chest to receive the
Danish "fee."  "Efficient, these Danes," he thought.  The Eagle was soon
underway, returning to Martinique by a somewhat circuitous route.  Later
that day, Jeremy personally delivered two envelopes given him by Becky, one
to Andy and one to Joe Lawrence.  He later discovered that each had
contained short notes and a bright silk scarf.  (Andy wore his openly until
it fell apart!)

(Afterword)

Several days later, Jeremy answered a knock on the door of his cabin only
to discover a highly agitated Joe Lawrence.  Obviously, the boy had
something serious on his mind, but he couldn't seem to put it into words.
Unfortunately, the Mate didn't know him well enough to guess at the cause
of his vexation.  Finally insisting that he sit down on one of Jeremiah's
great chests, he reminded the blond that they had been friends in the
fo'c'sle and that he had told Joe that he would always be there for him if
the need arose.  The young Mate was amazed when tears suddenly appeared in
the handsome youth's blue eyes and even began to spill down his cheeks.
Other than for that one incident when a wildly excited young man had
suddenly appeared on deck some days before, this was simply not the
distant, emotionless shipmate whom he had known.  Spontaneously, he rose,
stepped forward, and embraced the lad.  He was almost sure that he felt the
boy harden slightly.  Nor was THIS the lad he had known!  Pulling a bottle
of rum from a cubbyhole and finding a couple of reasonably clean mugs, he
poured generously, and set them down between them, saying, "Joe, would it
help for the next few minutes if we were simply back in the fo'c'sle and it
was just 'Jeremy' and 'Joe'?"  A red- faced young sailor pawed clumsily at
his package and shook his head with relief.  Weakly, he grunted, "Yeah," as
he accepted one of the mugs and allowed the fiery liquid to spill down his
throat in one gulp.  Jeremy refilled his mug...several times.

"Jeremy," he finally continued, "since Becky left, I've been having some
feelings...some desires...that have just tied my body in knots.  I can't
sleep...my body always feels on the edge of exploding...nothing gives me
peace."  Having no conceivable way of knowing what he was about to hear,
Jeremy asked, "Would you like to talk with me about those feelings, those
desires, Joe...real confidential-like?  I give you my personal word of
honor that no one will ever hear of this conversation.  In fact, I shall
never mention it to YOU - unless you bring it up first."

The beautiful kid tried to get the words out.  His face became redder; the
tendons in his throat.  ever more pronounced; his whole body trembled.
Finally, he just collapsed into sobs of frustration and reached his arms
out to his friend.  Moving over to sit beside him on his chest, Jeremy
folded him into his arms, saying, "What's this, you big lug?  What's going
on inside one of the nicest guys on the Eagle, surely the most
handsome...and my friend...to give him so much pain?"

"Jeremy, I hurt so.  I want what a man cannot want," he whispered into his
friend's neck, his eyes screwed shut.  "You gotta be brave, Joe," Jeremy
responded.  "Get the poison out of you!  Tell me EXACTLY what you
desire...in the simplest of words!"  Jeremy could feel the heat radiating
from his friend's face.  He temperature must have risen to a frightening
level.  The truth came in sobs, mutters, and hissed words that tore the
blond youth asunder.  "I want a man - YOU, JEREMY, YOU! - to hold me...kiss
me...use his tongue on my body - EVERY PART of my body.  I want to feel you
invade my body...control me...take me until I explode!  And more," he
added, his body twisting in utter humiliation, "I want to give my love to
you, as you give yours to me."  The toxic thoughts having left his lips,
Joe slumped senseless into Jeremy's arms.

Praying that he knew what in hell he was doing, Jeremy shook and slapped
his friend back into consciousness.  Over and over again, he kept saying
determinedly, "No, Joe, you're not leaving me!" Heavy as the 19 year old
was, the redhead hauled him to his feet.  First tearing his shirt from his
broad torso, he ripped the skilt from his waist and legs.  Pushing and
lifting, he manhandled the naked hulk over to his bunk and loaded him into
it like a sack of grain, lifting each heavily muscled leg onto the bunk as
if a wayward log.  Throwing his own clothes off, he climbed in behind the
superb form and gathered him into his body.

Jeremy was on fire.  Passionately, he kissed the back of Joe's neck and
shoulders, running his hands feverishly over his superb physique...over his
pecs, his abs, his superbly defined lower torso, the pelvic ridge, his
rounded and rock-hard butt, the enormous and now heavily swollen genitals,
the muscled thighs.  The complete lack of body hair was...magnificent!  He
could feel every muscle in the lad's body, every tendon - and, more, he
felt the beginnings of a response.  Slowly, ever so slowly, Joe turned over
and pressed his lips into Jeremy's.  A quick learner, it was only seconds
before tongue dueled with tongue.  Gasping into each other's mouth, the
hands, fingers, and tongues of the two superb young men explored every
square millimeter of the other.  Without being guided, Joe turned over,
raised on widely spread knees, and lowered his head into his forearms.  The
redheaded Mate opened him skillfully until both men were groaning, moaning,
and pushing into the other.  "Do you have a dildo?" Joe gasped.  "Got
something much better," Jeremy panted before biting down sharply on his
friend's shoulder.  At that selfsame moment, a great pillar - at one and
the same time, warm, velvet smooth, and hard as steel - invaded Joe's guts.
As he had requested, it took him, conquered him, and raised him to a level
of excitement that he had never before experienced.  Resisting no longer,
he allowed himself to be raised to the very pinnacle of passion before both
lads simultaneously exploded.

They lay kissing, touching, and glorying in their youth and love.
Eventually, Joe's mind went back to Becky's final comments when she had
said that pleasuring her was something reserved for her girlfriend in
Antigua.  This was NOT what he wanted - then or now!  Inexpertly, but
passionately and with great love, he returned everything to Jeremy that had
been offered him - and then some.  Kneeling over the exhausted Mate at the
end, he growled, "I be no woman, but loving you has to be the best thing in
my life!"  Jeremy reached up and tumbled the hunky blond down beside him.
"You will stay here tonight, Joe, till your watch is struck.  We are not
finished!"  "No," the magnificent blond replied, "we are damned well not
finished!"


(To Be Continued)