Date: Sun, 18 Oct 2009 01:22:23 -0400
From: tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Up Onto the Beach

			     UP ONTO THE BEACH
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     Up onto the beach walked the six of us, staggering through the surf
onto the sand and up to the dry portion. First was Richell, our first mate
and navigator, big, strong, confident. Next was Miguel, the chief steward
and purser, broad-shouldered, solid and capable. Then was myself, Brian
Atchison, ship's radio operator and engineer. Behind me was Fredericks,
Mr. Halston's personal valet and butler, and Montrall, his cook. At the
last, very last, was Mr. Halston himself, striding as if he were the reason
this procession existed, the way a bride is the last and most important of
the wedding procession.
     Richell turned and viewed the ship, Mr. Halston's yacht, now skewered
on a piece of coral reef. The tide was going out, the reef could now be
clearly seen, and probably hadn't been totally submerged even when the
yacht had rammed it. I knew Mr. Halston himself had been at the helm.
     On the beach, the five of us, tired from our struggle with the surf
which had fought our swim to shore like a living creature trying to pull us
out to sea, we each dropped down to the sand and sat, tired and ready to
rest.
     Only Mr. Halston remained standing, he stood and surveyed the island
which was now perforce, for an unknown period of time, our new
residence. "A good island." he decided. "Good ground cover, it either gets
plenty of rain or has a source of clean water, I think there's even some
animal life, probably brought here by the native Polynesians in the
past. But there's no natives living here, probably too small to support a
full village. But for the six of us, it ought to be about right."
     "What about the radio?" Richell asked me.
     "A spar went through it when we crashed." I said. I'd seen it. "We'll
have to pull out and set up the secondary radio."
     Miguel shook his head. "I looked for it while we were evacuating the
ship. The space in the lockers for the secondary radio is empty."
     "Empty?" I goggled. "Maritime law requires a second radio be available
at all times." And at least one person aboard able to repair and service
them; that was me.
     "Well, it wasn't aboard." Miguel said.
     I considered our final option. "We still have the geopositional
indicator. Once people realize we haven't arrived at our port of call, they
can ping it and it'll tell them where we are. They'll check the location,
realize we've been shipwrecked and stranded here, and send a rescue party."
     Fredericks nodded vigorously. "Then that's how it'll go then. Thing
is, when will they check for us?"
     I looked around but nobody seemed to know, Mr. Halston was looking at
the island and didn't answer.
     Richell saw our distress and said, "Well, the first thing is to
survive until they come and get us. We need to salvage what we can from the
ship, and the sooner the better."
     I spoke up. "I'm an expert diver." Just the truth, though I'd avoided
anything like wrecked ships.
     "We'll put you as head on salvage, then." Richell said. "Someone can
help him?"
     "Me." Miguel said. "I know where everything's supposed to be. And I
can swim well enough in rough surf."
     "Good enough." Richell said. "The rest of us will explore the island,
find water, and set up shelter and a camp."
     "Good idea." Mr. Halston had rejoined us. He wasn't an old man, he was
in his mid-twenties, and had left college after attending for six years, no
degree, no future plans. We knew from talking with Fredericks that he and
his father had had a nasty fight just before this trip. Good-looking with a
trimmed blond head of hair and a beard, he was the young scion that had
made hearts flutter wherever he went. Most of our trips had two or three of
them living in the other rooms on the yacht. This trip was unusual in that
there were no guests aboard, only him.
     Mr. Halston looked around. "I think we should set our little village
up over there." He pointed. "It'll make a good place when the rains come."
     Richell shrugged. "That would require us to clear a number of
palms. We don't have the equipment with us to do that."
     "Sure we do." Mr. Halston said. "You'll find it all in the cargo
lockers. Everything we need to set up our own...camp."
     "Yes?" Richell frowned. "That's good to know."
     "Now, be a good crew and unload the ship. You'll see what a difference
it makes when we get things set up. You'll like it here, I'm sure." He took
off toward the small clump of trees he had declared covered a source of
potable water. "I shall expect to have dinner promptly at seven o'clock."
he said to us.
     Richell stared after him. "Now what was that all about?"
     "I don't know, either." I said. "But I'm going to see what these
supplies that are perfect for setting up our own camp here are like."
     I was lucky in that the yacht was still pretty high in the water, the
prow was smashed (which held the crew quarters; we were all now wearing the
only clothes we owned), but the cargo lockers were in the stern and were
still mostly dry. In it, I found...bounty. Bounty, that is, if you were
shipwrecked and needed to set up your own campsite. Hell, your own town!
But the real kicker for me, more than the tools and such, was the box of
small packets I found.
     I took it and showed it to Richell. He saw it, nodded at me, and then
gathered the rest and we went in a body to Mr. Halston.
     Mr. Halston was lounging on the beach not far from the ocean. Of all
of us, he hadn't yet lifted a single finger to help us build camp or start
the process of surviving.
     "What is it?" He wanted to know when he saw us coming up.
     Richell said it best. "You bastard. You lousy, crazy bastard."
     "What do you mean?" Mr. Halston wanted to know.
     "You marooned us here on purpose." Richell said.
     This came as a surprise to the other three, they goggled at Richell
but his attention was on Mr. Halston.
     "I don't know what you're talking about." Mr. Halston protested.
     "Look at these!" Richell threw the box down at his feet. A box filled
with packets of seeds of all kinds, vegetables of every sort, along with
some booklets on their care and cultivation. "Everything we'd need to know
to plow, plant and maintain a garden. No ship would have any reason to keep
such among emergency supplies, you only take seeds to a place you plan to
live."
     "There were farming tools on the ship, too." I added. "Quite a number
of them."
     "No reason for farming tools for a crew that'll be rescued in a few
days' time." Richell added. "But lots of reason if you plan to stay here."
     "Stay here?" Fredericks was shocked into words; he was usually the
quiet one among us. "We can't stay here! You said the geopositional
indicator will ping when someone wants to find us."
     "That presumes someone wants to find us." I put in. "What was our port
of call intended to be, Mr. Halston?" Nobody had been told when we set out,
he had avoided the subject.
     "We were going to Tahiti, weren't we?" Fredericks asked him. "You said
we were going to Tahiti, didn't you?"
     "I never heard nothing about Tahiti." Montrall joined in. "I never
heard anything at all."
     "What was the plan, to build yourself your own little country here?"
Richell asked. "Far away from Daddy?"
     "I think that's just what he'd planned." I opined. "Only he planned on
himself being our king and absolute ruler."
     "It's my ship and I'm the captain." Mr. Halston was shaky, he hadn't
expected such hostility to his little kingdom building, I guess. We were
all his employees, he expected us to continue to be his employees when we
were all stranded on a deserted tropical island and we'd all be happy to
toil in the fields and build him a nice, big house and do everything for
him, just because he was the son of a rich man.
     "Of course I expect to continue to remain as your captain until we are
rescued." he went on. "It's in the maritime law, after all."
     "The law also requires the extra radio." I said. "Where is it? I'll
bet the geopositional indicator isn't working, either." It was designed to
work even if submerged...but if you didn't turn it on, it didn't do
anything. I don't think it was on, not from the look on Mr. Halston's face.
     "This is nothing but mutiny." Mr. Halston said. "I insist you all
return to your tasks at once."
     "And what are you going to do?" Richell demanded. "Why should we feed
you and care for you between now and the rescue, whenever the fuck that's
going to happen?"
     "I... I...." Halston hadn't though of that!
     "You have to give something to the group." Miguel chimed in. I
wouldn't want this burly dark-skinned man angry at me. And he was mad!
"What can you do?"
     Halston's mouth worked like a fish on land, which is sort of what he
was. A fish who swam in an ocean of inherited money, and he was in a place
where it did him no good whatsoever.
     "I guess we can split the supplies five ways instead of six." Montrall
said nastily. "They'll last longer that way."
     "But those are mine!" Halston protested. "I brought everything you
need to build your own little nation, right here. Everything."
     "You forgot one thing." I pointed out. "You forgot to bring some of
your bimbos to bear our children. Or were you planning on going gay for
this little exile you created for us?"
     Maybe he had. I know that I'd seen some men mixed in with the women on
his cruises, and the sleeping arrangements weren't always on a heterosexual
pairing basis. That could have been just the limited sleeping space any
small boat allows. Then again....
     "That's what he wanted." Miguel said. "The five of us, taking turns in
his bed as he ordered us. His own private, male harem."
     Halston had stayed silent. That was admission enough for me. "You did
intend just that, didn't you?" I asked him, the kind of question that
doesn't expect an answer. "You wanted a crew that would work all day at
your command, and you could give the best jobs to whoever you wanted to hop
into your bed that same night. Play us off against each other, five men
clamoring for your favors and the chance for a meal of a can of Spam
instead of fish and kelp."
     "You couldn't do that to us, you couldn't!" mourned Fredericks.
     "He did, by God!" Miguel exclaimed. "The thing is, now that we know,
what do we do?"
     "I say we all give him what he was wanting." Richell decided.
     "You mean that?" I asked, not believing it.
     "I wasn't finished. I say we give him what he was wanting." Richell
continued. "Only we give it to him our way."
     "And what is our way?" I asked.
     "We give him five horny men ready to have sex with him." Richell
grinned evilly. So did I, when I understood.
     You have to realize that some ways of life attracts certain types of
men. While I will concede that plenty of men who go to sea are straight and
stay that way, let's face the fact that a man who will go out to sea and be
away from land for weeks or even months on end with only other men for
company is more likely to be the sort of man who will take his bread
buttered on the other side if he can get it. This is especially true with
private and commercial ships. Nobody expects a sailor to settle down and
marry if he's going to be gone from home for long periods, he can live his
life a bit freer than if he had a job digging ditches on land instead. So
for all five of us, the thought of having sex with another man wasn't
repulsive. And having sex with the man who had stranded you alone on an
island with only other men around, that was just so much sweeter.
     Miguel certainly agreed. "Yeah, let's give this mother all the cock he
can handle!"
     "He needs to do something to earn his keep while we're marooned."
Montrall added in, a damned fine cook but a longtime seaman as well. "He
can earn his room and board by being our personal fucktoy!"
     "Not me!" Fredericks objected, which surprised me. I had Fredericks
pegged more than anyone else as being a man who preferred his own kind to
the company of women. But he seemed ready to tear up as he looked around at
us, saw protests would be useless and walked off.
     Halston hadn't been quiet all along I should mention, though I've left
off his objections in all of this as being a lot of noise of no importance
as nobody answered him. He was complaining vehemently and waiting for his
Daddy's money to bail him out of this predicament the way it had done
countless times before. Which is to say, he started offering us money not
to prong his ass.
     "You dumb shit!" Richell snarled. "Money's no fucking good on this
island. Now get up and get your clothes off damned fast, we're going to all
give you a ride and you can decide after that if you want to go build your
own camp on the other side of the island."
     "Or if you want to stay and have this sort of ride every night from
now on." I added. Hell, I didn't owe Halston any favors, the man had been a
miserable jerk to work for and his leaving out or dumping our secondary
radio had put him firmly on my shit list.
     "I wouldn't mind having his blond butt in my bunk." Miguel agreed.
     "He has to do something, and I know I don't want to eat anything he
could cook up." Montrall added.
     Halston knew he was outnumbered and acquiesced, that yapping mouth of
his finally quiet for real. He was taking off his white captain's
outfit. The kind with all the gold buttons on the front and the pants with
the sharp white crease. Well, that's how they'd looked on the ship, but the
pants had lost their crease and the buttons weren't quite as shiny as
before. Still, he got out of them and that left just an undershirt and
briefs. The t-shirt was reasonably clean, I think he'd rinsed it out in our
water source (jerk, that small pool had to stay clean as possible as it was
our drinking source), but the briefs were baggy and brownish. An old pair
of underwear on a rich man's son? Unheard of. A brand-new pair every day
was more the style. But sure enough, these things were old and nearly
ratty-looking. They bagged down at the groin, the balls making a prominent
bulb shape and above that, a respectable piece of meat.
     Halston skinned out of his t-shirt and I looked at the tender young
skin. The rich can afford the treatments and oils and soaps that can
prolong skin's firmness, plus Halston had the ancestry of a beautiful
mother. No model posing for a shaving-cream ad had skin that shone this
marvelously, a rich pale tan color like you'd find on an old marble-faced
building, more of a deep cream in tone. Tiny pink nipples perched on either
breast, they begged your fingers to tweak them and make them pearl up into
even tinier knobs.
     "All of it." Richell ordered. He had removed all but his own trousers
at the same time, and I knew he intended to be the first one to plug our
former employer's butt.
     Halston brought down his briefs, trembling a bit. This man couldn't be
a virgin, but I guess having four raunchy men around you could intimidate
anyone.
     Richell had dropped his own trousers down to the sand. Jutting out
from his body was a thick prod that could make any virgin blanch. I wasn't
wanting that aimed at my own butt anytime soon, especially unlubed.
     "Here it is, your first customer of the day." Richell gestured to his
organ. "You need to decide if you want to have it in you all dry like this,
or if you want to drop down and give it some greasing up with your spit
first."
     Halston knelt down slowly and he actually spit on the cock.
     "That isn't going to do it." Richell sneered. "You got to get it all
over. Better suck it in and suck it deep."
     "And hurry up." I added. "I want my turn soon as he's done."
     Halston touched his mouth to Richell's prong, timidly at first, and
when it didn't bite him, he took it into his mouth. Gaining confidence with
every second as Richell didn't grab and shove it inside him, Halston sucked
on Richell slowly at first, and then with increasing speed.
     Richell's only comment on this was, "I knew you were a cocksucker the
first time I saw you."
     "And pretty good at it, too." I looked up and saw Miguel and Montrall
were totally nude, a brown muscled stud and an incredibly hairy man of
paler skin. I was the only one here still dressed. "I guess I'd better get
ready for my turn, hadn't I?"
     I undressed as I watched Richell getting served by Halston's eager
young mouth. This young scion had certainly slurped more than his share of
puds to be this good this quick. A man moving under duress doesn't have
quite the...verve...that Halston was showing.
     Miguel got too horny waiting. He grabbed Halston's hand and put it on
his sturdy Latino prick. "Here, get a load of this." he said. "Time for you
to get acquainted with my little present for you." And Halston jerked his
chief steward's prick for him.
     "Going to get all nice and sloppy with two loads in there greasing you
up." I put in. "Bet that's going to sound like a washing machine sloshing
back and forth when you cram yours in among Richell's and my loads."
     That earned a chuckle from my comrades and Richell said, "All right,
that's enough greasing, Halston. Time for you to lie back and take it
deep."
     Halston obeyed and I think he wasn't feeling anything like fear right
now. After some of the parties I'd witnessed from afar, I don't think he
had any worries about being able to take on four horny men. Hell, he'd
probably already done that more than once.
     So he laid on his back and Richell got between his legs and I watched
the first mate shove his cock into his captain's hot young ass. Halston
watched this with a sort of awed expression, like he couldn't believe this
was happening to him, not to the heir to the Halston fortune, it couldn't
be him here...could it? Not him lying on sand and about to take on the
first of four cocks whether he wanted them or not.
     Whatever he was thinking, Richell's pud slipped in as smooth as
butter. Halston didn't let out a single yell, just a sort of inhaled gasp
as the thick prod drove into him.
     All five of us were down on the sand now, and Montrall leaned in over
Halston's head and grasped the young stud's prick and began to jerk him
while Richell pumped his ass. Halston gasped again at that, louder, and I
saw his hand slide up and find Montrall's dong and squeeze it almost
fondly.
     Richell, meanwhile, was enjoying his liberty. The first mate pummeled
Halston's butt and Richell looked up at me and I met his eyes and I grinned
and Richell grinned, and I guess that was what Richell needed to get his
rocks going. Turned on by being watched by us as he fucked Halston, Richell
rammed him faster than ever and with a sudden grunt and gasp, I saw the hot
salty spurts fly out of Halston's ass as Richell pumped him full with his
cock still flying back and forth.
     I caught Richell before he could slump over when his climax was done,
and when he caught his breath, I said, "Okay, my turn now, if you please. I
want to stick mine in while he's still all hot and slippery from your
load."
     "Go ahead." panted Richell and he waddled away on his knees to give me
room. I got my prod aimed at Halston's butthole and when it touched I said,
"Here's a little something to show what I think about you tossing that
second radio overboard on us!" And I shoved my dong into him.
     Halston groaned, some, for my cock wasn't lubricated as Richell's had
been. But I wanted him to hurt some, and there was plenty of hot first-mate
come in there to keep it from being a completely dry violation. I got my
nine inches into him and I got them in deep and I said, "Now, let's run
this bilge pump and see what we can dredge out of here, shall we?" I
mentioned my most onerous task, that of draining the bilge of the water
that seeps into even the most seaworthy craft, and the yacht now sinking in
the lagoon was a good twenty years old if a day. The water got in a little
at a time, and it built up in algae and chemicals and the cleansers we used
on the decks got down there, too, and I had the fun of running a hose into
it and getting it out and back into the helpless, pristine ocean. Then
cleaning the filter that kept the worst of the filth from polluting the sea
life. An engineer's job isn't a pretty one, and I didn't want this to be a
pretty fuck for him.
     So I leaned over and got my face right into his and I said, "I want to
watch your face while I scrag you. I want to see you feel my hairy rod
diving into you and I want to see you feel that salty scum as I spurt it in
you. So you stare right into my eyes, you rich fuck."
     And Halston did, he watched me almost unblinking, and I saw him as I
plugged his pampered butt and the way he winced when I'd shift positions a
little now and then during my joust. "Here it comes." I heaved as my climax
built inside me. "Here comes my spunk-load, and it's going to be a thick,
pasty spunk you'll have to dig out of your backside with a spoon, because
you won't be able to shit it out of you!"
     And my glory rose up and exploded and I growled my triumph into
Halston's face as he stared at me, my load crashing into his nether hole
and his eyes on mine with the helpless innocent look of a deer in your
headlights on a deserted country road. The slightest crinkling of his
forehead told me that my jizz burned his ravaged butt, and I was gratified
for that, I wanted this shit-head to feel my revenge on him.
     "Now you've got a thick load in you." I said when I was done, though
blue-lights flashed across my sight as I did, the fading after-exposures of
my fireworks of ejaculation. "Miguel can make that squish around in you
while he rams you, and then Montrall can decorate your butt-cake with his
icing-gun. Or maybe he can fuck your mouth instead, I want you to be
picking long, black pubic hairs out of your teeth for days."
     "Come on, my turn." Miguel said. I got away and back to my clothes,
but I watched as Halston took the sturdy Latino man with a sort of
innocence on his face that I still couldn't fathom. This was the man who
had strode onto our beach and proclaimed it his kingdom. We had degraded
him from that lofty title, he was now the village fuck-hole. Why, then, did
he resemble more a village maiden being ravished by a bandit tribe?
     That look didn't slow down Miguel, he didn't last too long, but he
humped Halston's ass with a set of hard, rough thrusts that made Halston's
body ripple back and forth on the sand. And then as Miguel finished,
Montrall went in to mount his master and spread his frothy sperm into the
mixing bowl of Halston's anus, and now the four of us had spent our jizz in
his bum, and he could get up and get dressed as we had, and have to look at
us and know we'd all fucked him.
     All but Fredericks. I felt a certain shame when I saw the daggers
Fredericks gave us when we got back to our camp. Fredericks had a bowl of
water and a clean rag waiting and when his master appeared, he led Halston
into the small shanty that was all we had built so far and I looked in to
see that he had taken Halston's clothes back off him and was washing him
clean as he could with his limited tools, cleansing his young employer of
the violation of four men's jism.
     But I hardened my resolve, for we were on this island thanks to
Halston's work. When he came out, he was quiet but then he said, to
Richell. "I can see that I was wrong to assume I would be the leader of
this group. You are obviously the one in charge here, and I won't disobey
you. If you can assign me a task, I shall do my best."
     Richell was pleased if a bit taken aback by this compliant attitude,
and he said, "You can help Atchison scavenge your ship for every bit of
valuable we can get from it. That ship is going to sink deeper with every
high tide and within a week, anything not removed from it will be gone for
good."
     "I can do that." Halston nodded. And he was as good as his word. We
made several trips before darkness set in, and as we made our final trip on
our improvised raft, I said to him, "Mr. Halston, just tell me one thing."
     "What's that?"
     "Why?"
     "Why what?"
     "Why did you bring us here and strand us here? Was it that bad back
home?"
     "No." Halston said. "It was worse. You can't imagine what it's like to
grow up being expected to be as exceptional as they think your father
is. Having money makes people think of you as something like a plaster
saint or a painted devil, unable to be anything human, you're either a
philanthropist or you're a selfish spoiled brat. Never anything in
between. You're expected to face the challenges of adult life when your
childhood has been one long series of protections from anything like a
lesser challenge. So a life on a deserted island with the men he has come
to know as well as anyone in his life doesn't seem like the worst fate to
have."
     "You might have asked us if we wanted the same thing you did."
     "You might have said no. Better to put you in this situation and let
you all rise to the occasion. Which you all did, every one of you. Working
like a team to build the camp. I couldn't do anything but watch, since I
didn't know what to do, I did nothing, and it was easier to slip away and
not watch than keep doing that."
     "I suppose so." I said. "Well, you'll have your chance. With no radio
or geopositional indicator to tell people where we are, we could be here a
very long time."
     "I hope so." was his reply.
     "Even with a nightly gangbang waiting for you?"
     "Even then." he affirmed. "But I think if I start really helping out,
you'll all go easier on me. And I think Fredericks might even be in love
with me."
     "You're probably right." I said. "Get ready to help me unload, we're
about to hit the beach."
     And paddling our raft furiously to fight the wave surges, we went up
onto the beach once more.

				  THE END
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