Date: Sun, 31 Oct 2010 18:14:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jon D <playbuddy123@yahoo.com>
Subject: Tortuga Gold

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and as such is a product of my
imagination and not real life, please forgive any historical
inaccuracies. The story will include descriptions of sexual activity. One
brief scene hetero, and the rest will between teen boys, and in later
chapters, between men and boys. If material of this kind might offend you
then please stop reading, all others, enjoy! You are welcome to send
comments or story ideas to Playbuddy123@yahoo.com


Tortuga Gold -- A Pirates Tale                                      (b/b, M/b)


Born on the last day of October in 1656, the child came into the world on a
stormy night in a dimly lit room of a public house. The lass, barely
nineteen, had become pregnant by an unknown man. It often happened in her
profession. She gave the boy the name "Chandler" after one of her more
frequent visitors. She thought the town's candle maker was a pleasant
enough sort, and chose the name with him in mind. Starting life under such
circumstances didn't offer much hope for a bright future.

In the fourteen years since, Port Royal Jamaica flourished. The town,
seized by England in 1655, was now known as a place of such debauchery as
to have no rival in the Caribbean. In fact, it was said of Port Royal, that
it was the `wickedest city on earth'.

* * * *

The Black Dogg tavern, Mr. John Starr proprietor, served a variety of
social classes. The solidly built three story brick structure had a grog
room for merchants, one for seaman and tradesmen, and a third for
conducting business of a more personal nature. The most recent census
listed twenty one white women and two Negro women in Mr. Starr's
employ. They did a great deal more than serve drinks.

"Chandler!" Mr. Starr yelled across the noisy room.

"Yes, sir?" the lad placed four pewter mugs down on the table at which
several deck hands from the "Tortuga" were sitting, and then hurried over.

"See that Mary gets back down here. She's been too long upstairs. That
sod's time is up."

Chandler made his way through the crowd, the patrons so intent on their
drink that they paid no attention to the slender boy. At little more than
five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds, the lad was small for his
age. As he climbed the steps, Chandler noted that the thick tobacco smoke,
the smell of rum, and the sound of laughter seemed to follow him. Arriving
at a room at the top of the stairs, he pounded his fist against the door.

"John says time's up! He wants you downstairs, now!" he yelled.

"This bastard's so drunk he can't finish his business!" Mary answered.

Chandler slapped the door a couple of more times with an open hand. "Tell
him he's got five minutes, or John will be up here!"

Chandler knew he didn't need to finish the sentence. John Starr was well
over six feet, and sported two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. Mary's
current customer wouldn't be the first to be thrown down the stairs,
slammed against a wall, and then tossed out into the mud of the
street. Nor, thought Chandler, would he be the last.

The Tortuga (Turtle) had sailed into port the previous day after a
successful time at sea. The crew called themselves "Privateers," as
distinguished from "Pirates." Their captain had received letters of
authorization from the governor which sanctioned their murderous
activity. It was a subtle difference to be sure, but it was useful for
appearance sake. Whatever the name, privateer or pirate, all were welcome
in Port Royal.

After raiding a Spanish treasure ship, the crew of the Tortuga had been
rewarded with a share of the spoils. Their new found wealth probably
wouldn't last long however. It wasn't uncommon for a man to spend his
entire fortune in a few days on rum, women, and gambling. The Black Dogg
was having a very profitable night.

* * * *

"So what's going on in the house then?" A voice called from the shadows.

Chandler stopped mid-pee, the stream trickling to a few drops as he stood
outside the back door of the tavern.

"What?" he turned to look over his shoulder, "Who's there?"

"Thomas Piper," came the answer.

"Better come out or I'll call John."

A figure slowly emerged from the darkness.

"Go ahead, finish your pee."

Chandler saw that the voice had come from a boy not much older than
himself. He was dressed like he'd just come off a ship or spent a great
deal of time around the harbor.

"What are you doing back there?"

"Dunno do I? Just woke up, not sure how I got there," the lad chuckled.

Chandler stood with his dick in one hand and the other holding his breeches
down in front.

"So are you going to just stand there with your cock out?"

Chandler blushed, turned toward the wall and tried to finish what he had
started. But now with an audience, his kidneys became bashful and things
wouldn't work. Closing his eyes, he settled himself down, and with a second
effort met with success. Shaking the last drops off the end he tucked it
away.

"Are there any pretty ones in there?" Thomas asked as he pulled a pipe and
a small rag from his pocket. He carefully unwrapped the cloth, picked up a
pinch of tobacco, and pushed it firmly into the bowl.

"I guess," Chandler shrugged, though it occurred to him he had never really
looked at the women in the house in that way.

"I could do with a bit of fun," the boy smiled.

"You're out of luck, we're closed."

"Shame, that," Thomas shook his head, "I was in the mood for it! So what
are YOU doing here?"

"I live here."

"Your mum is one of them then?"

"Don't really know, no one ever told me who my mum was. They all kind of
raised me." Chandler shrugged.

"What's your name?"

"Chandler."

"Chandler what?"

"Just Chandler, there's no more"

"Well, nice to meet you, Just Chandler," Thomas smiled.

The boys stared at one another a moment longer. There was something in the
way Thomas looked at Chandler he couldn't describe. Perhaps it was
curiosity, or maybe something else. It was difficult to tell.

"Maybe I'll come round tomorrow then."

Chandler nodded, "John will take of it, he'll make sure you find what you
want," Chandler said, turning for the door.

"We'll see about that," Thomas chuckled.

* * * *

The following evening, Chandler looked up from wiping a table to see the
young man from the night before.

"I came to see what there is then..."

"John's over there, he'll help you out," Chandler answered as he picked up
an empty wine bottle.

"Not like I've done this before," the boy said with considerably less
swagger.

The look on the boy's face told the story. It was his first time in such a
place.

"Come on then," Chandler nodded and headed for the owner.

"What's this about?" John grunted, wrestling a small cask toward a corner
of the bar.

"I'm looking for a bit of fun."

Chandler chuckled, "Better see the money first!"

The boy gave Chandler an annoyed look, reached into his pocket and dropped
five Spanish doubloons onto the counter.

John got a glint in his eye and smiled. "I'm sure we have just what you're
looking for, sir," he said picking up one of the coins. "Chandler, fetch
Sara."

Chandler nodded and went upstairs.

* * * *

Starting around age twelve, Chandler had become more interested in the
business that took place on the second floor of the house. He was curious
about the coming and going of the men and women. As boys will do, he
eventually found ways to see things for himself. After the initial surprise
wore off, he found that he enjoyed watching the men as they drove their
hardened members into the curly hair between the girl's legs. He'd stayed
too long a couple of times and had gotten his ears boxed, so he made sure
his visits were brief.

On one occasion however, he had stayed longer than usual. He had become so
intrigued by what he was watching he had started to rub his own
bulge. Before he had known what was happening he had rubbed it to such a
state it had burst, making a mess in his breeches. The wonderful feeling
that had washed over him that first time had been indescribable. He
instantly figured out what had been such a mystery. The meaning of the
sounds and words coming from the girl's rooms finally had made sense.

"No wonder they keep coming back," he had thought as he smiled and hurried
off to clean himself.

* * * *

"I'm Sara," the young girl said sweetly as she led Thomas up the stairs.

"I'm Tom," the boy replied softly. He reached out and placed his hand on
the girl's bum as they climbed the last few steps.

"My, aren't you a bold one!" the girl giggled.

Tom smiled, "So how long have you been doing this then?"

"Since I was thirteen, going on about four years now."

Sara showed the boy into the room and motioned him toward the bed. She
started to close the door but caught movement out of the corner of her
eye. She smiled and left it open a tiny bit. Moments later an eye appeared.

Sara stepped to the bed where Tom was anxiously waiting. "Let's see then,"
she giggled as she started to undo the lad's shirt.

Tom blushed slightly and hurriedly undid the buttons, tossing the garment
to the floor.

"Very nice," Sara said, running a finger slowly down the boy's smooth
chest. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Have you been with many girls then?" Sara smiled sweetly as she reached
for the button on his pants.

"Only two," Tom whispered as Sara's hand slipped inside searching for him.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine!" She whispered. She kissed him sweetly on the
cheek as her fingers wrapped around his dick. "Mmmm, you have a big one."

"Oh, that feels good, that does!" Tom moaned.

Sara pulled the lad's penis a few times and then lightly pushed him
backwards, urging him to lie down. She glanced over her shoulder. The door
was open further than before.

Sara soon had the young man naked, extremely hard, and groaning under her
touch. She stroked the sizeable shaft, pushing the skin back and forth over
the head. Satisfied the lad was ready for what came next she sat back. She
quickly pulled her dress over her head, removed her petticoat, and climbed
naked onto the bed.

"These are pretty," Tom said reaching up and softly rubbing her breasts.

The girl leaned closer, gave him a brief kiss and then moved lower. When
her mouth reached the throbbing shaft, the boy groaned and thrust
upwards. She held him in her hand as she licked the head and then
sucked. The boy thrust upwards again and with a bit of effort managed to
take him all in. There was an appreciative moan. The talented girl
continued her work, but sadly only a few short strokes later it was all
over.

Tom grunted, closed his eyes and held her head tight to his crotch.

Sara moved her mouth up and down as the boy groaned. There was no doubt
what was happening. Moments later, when his moans ceased, she pulled off
and wiped her lips.

"You're a quick one!" Sara laughed, getting up from the bed and reaching
for her clothes.

"No, no, wait! I can do it again," Tom begged, "We're not done are we?"

There was a muffled giggle from the hallway. Sara turned and
chuckled. "What do you think, Chandler? Shall I give him another go?"

Tom's eyes grew wide. He quickly sat up. "Chandler?"

There was a playful laugh and the door clicked shut.

* * * *

"You shouldn't spy like that," Tom said with a blush as he sat down at the
table. Chandler was clearing it of food.

"Wasn't much to see," Chandler laughed.

"I suppose you could do better then?"

This time it was Chandler's turn to blush. He didn't say a word.

"You've never done it, have you?" Tom guessed.

Chandler turned and busied himself with his chores.

"I've done it hundreds of times," Tom boasted.

"Liar, you said you've only been with two girls."

Tom gave Chandler a knowing look. "I've been to sea, haven't I?"

Chandler looked confused.

"Living in a place like this and you don't know what happens on a ship?"
Tom laughed with a roll of his eyes.

Chandler didn't know what he was missing, but Tom certainly seemed to know
something that he didn't.

Tom pulled his pipe and tobacco from his pocket. "Get us a drink then," he
winked and reached for the candle to light his smoke. "I've got some
stories to tell!"

* * * *

It was quiet in the house. The last of the customers had been shown out and
Chandler was comfortable in his bed. John was in his room at the end of the
hall and six women shared the remaining three rooms, two to a bed.

Lying on his back, Chandler thought about the things Tom had told him
occurred at sea. At first he had been surprised. For some reason he had
never considered the possibilities that a boy would do things with another
boy. As Tom told him of the secret adventures he had shared with the cook's
boy, Chandler had grown hard. The stories seemed to grow as they went
along. He had even told of things that had happened with the men.

Thinking of the stories once again aroused Chandler. He reached down and
took his cock into his hand. His penis, like the rest of him, was
slender. It was however of good length for his age. He looked at the candle
flickering near the bed. His cock was nearly as long and slightly
thicker. "But, not as big as some I've seen," he thought sadly as he slowly
stroked himself.

The image of Tom on his knees, taking another boy's cock into his mouth,
caused Chandler's heart to race. His breathing quickened as he thought of
his own dick sliding between the older boy's lips. He had watched the girls
take a man into their mouth many times. The thought of Tom doing that deed
was more erotic than Chandler could imagine.

"Suck it, then," Chandler whispered, closing his eyes and imagining holding
Tom's head as Chandler pushed the end of his cock into the wetness of Tom's
mouth. "It would be warm," Chandler thought as he used his other hand to
play with the heavy sack beneath.

The fourteen year old worked his dick with practiced efficiency. He twisted
his hand as he pulled on the shaft, rubbed his thumb over the soft head,
and raised his ass off the bed from time to time, thrusting the stiff rod
through tightly clenched fingers.

Chandler flashed back to the scene he had witnessed through the crack in
the door. Tom was lying on his back, Sara pleasuring him, and the sounds of
his voice as he groaned. Visions of other men and boys crowded out the one
of Tom as Chandler grew closer and closer.

"Suck it," Chandler whimpered as he climbed to the top. When it came, the
spasms of pleasure shook his entire being. It seemed as if the stuff
pouring out was being drawn from a well and it kept bursting out in one
long shot after another.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment came to an end.

"Gawd, that was a fucking good one!"

Chandler ran a finger through the puddles on his chest and lower stomach,
pushing the slippery white goop around on his belly. He raised his hand and
stared at the wetness, several drips falling and forming new puddles.

"Tom said there was more to tell," Chandler whispered as he pushed the
covers aside and carefully climbed from the bed in search of a rag. "What
else could there be?" he thought and shrugged.

* * * *

The sun was well up, in fact, it was past mid-day when Chandler woke,
dressed, and left the tavern. He had a few coins in his pocket. They had
been left on tables as tips, or forgotten in the drunkenness of the night
before. He made his way down Queen Street, past High Street, and through
the narrow lane along Lime Street. Hugging the harbor, Lime Street was
filled with shops, vendors, people, and the every day stuff of a busy port.

The smell coming from the butcher turned Chandler's nose. Live chickens
squawked in their cages, pigs milled about a small pen, and freshly
slaughtered beef hung from hooks. Meat wouldn't keep in the heat, so the
animals were dressed when the money was paid.

Chandler stopped at one stall for fresh bread, some fruit at another, and
wine at a third. With breakfast in hand he searched for a spot to sit down
and eat. He headed for a place on the sea wall so he could look out at the
ships.

The Tortuga was swinging slowly on its anchor in a protected corner of the
large harbor. The 36 cannon of Fort Charles protected the entrance and made
the place safe for ships of opportunity. Whether pirate or privateer, the
Crown felt it was important to protect the vessels that had, for years,
been the only way to protect the island from a Spanish attack. It was a
marriage of convenience.

As Chandler ate his meal, he wondered about the boy that had told him all
those stories. He looked closely and tried to make out if he was on
board. The ship was some ways off and it was impossible to know for
sure. The fresh air of the harbor helped moderate the stench coming from
the market. The bright sun was beating down and it promised to be another
muggy day. The harbor was active with five ships being re-supplied and a
number more biding their time until their captain decided it was time to
set sail once again.

Chandler finished his food and tossed the scraps over the rock wall into
the water. He had made up his mind and turned back to the busy market
place.

* * * *

Chandler was starting to lose hope of ever finding the boy when he almost
literally stumbled upon him.

"What are you doing down there?"

Tom was seated on the ground, his back against the wall of a blacksmith's
shop. His body was slumped over as if in death, but the occasional snort
told Chandler he was in fact alive. "You're drunk," Chandler said with a
look of disgust.

The boy didn't look up. Even when Chandler nudged him in the ribs with the
toe of his boot he didn't move. Leaning down, Chandler found that Tom was
passed out. What looked like his dinner was a smelly mess on his
shirt. There was no doubt he had thrown up.

"I should just leave you here," Chandler said to no one in particular. He
looked around and it was clear no one else was going to bother with a drunk
in the street. Chandler took pity on him. "Well, let's get you home then,"
he sighed, struggling to wrap an arm around the lad and get him to his
feet. Tom stirred a bit but couldn't walk. Chandler half carried and half
dragged him back to the Black Dogg.

* * * *

"What's with him?" Sara nodded as she looked up from where she was
straightening some plates.

"Found him drunk in the street," Chandler grunted as he dumped the boy into
a chair.

"He's a mess, he is!" Sara laughed softly.

"Will you help me clean him up a bit?"

Sara laughed, "It'll take more than a little bit, I'll wager!"

Between the two of them they managed to get Tom up the stairs.

"Into the bath with him," Sara sniffed and turned her head away. The smell
of sick and rum was overpowering.

They dragged Tom into the room and sat him down near the tub, a large
whisky barrel cut in half. Chandler found the smell almost more than he
could manage. With Sara's help, Chandler unbuttoned his breeches, and
pulled them down and off. He then got the lad's long shirt undone, pulled
his arms through, and tossed it on the floor. In such a warm climate there
was no use or need for any undergarment.

Sara took the boy's feet while Chandler took him under the arms, and they
deposited him in the barrel. "Fetch some water," Sara sighed as she scooped
up the clothes.

Six pails of water later, Sara scrubbed Tom's hair with soap as Chandler
did his feet and legs.

"Want me to do his naughty bits?" Sara giggled as Chandler eyed the better
than seven inch dick lying limp and lifeless between the boy's legs.

"No, I'll do it," Chandler whispered with a blush. He pulled the skin back
from the head, rinsed it with water, and then with soaped hands, went at
it. Tom still had not been roused from his drunken stupor. Vigorous
scrubbing, another rinse, and Chandler finally finished his work.

Out of the tub, dried, and with a clean shirt, Tom was unceremoniously
flopped face down on Chandler's bed. The boy's ass peeked out from beneath
the shirt, it was a soft shade of pink.

"Let him sleep it off then," Sara said softly.

Chandler took one last look and closed the door.

* * * *

There hadn't been much room, but Chandler wasn't about to sleep on the
floor. Very early the next morning, after they closed the tavern, he had
stripped down to a night shirt and slipped into bed next to Tom. Exhausted,
sleep came quickly.

When he woke, Chandler saw Tom sitting on the floor near the bed.

"How did I get here then?"

Chandler yawned, stretched, and sat up. "Found you drunk in the street."

"Where are my things? My clothes? My Money?"

"You puked on yourself so we had to strip and bathe you. There wasn't any
money."

"The hell you say!" Tom jumped up ready to fight.

Chandler scurried into the corner, still on the bed. "You were in the
gutter by the blacksmith's; you didn't have anything with you."

Tom appeared to study Chandler for any sign of deceit, he calmed a bit, and
then sadly sat back down. "Last I remember was being with two blokes from
the ship," he said softly. He reached for his head as if in pain.

Chandler sat quietly, not wanting to prompt another outburst.

"Robbed! That's what's happened, I've been robbed!"

"How much was it?" Chandler whispered.

"Twenty pieces of gold," Tom said sadly.

Chandler didn't know what to say. Finally he said, "Sorry."

The two boys sat quietly for a moment.

"So, you brought me back here? Cleaned me up?"

Chandler nodded.

"Thanks," Tom whispered.

Chandler and Tom looked at one another for a long moment. Something seemed
to pass between them, some understanding, that they were very much
alike. Both were doing the best they could with whatever life threw at
them. Lately, it hadn't been very easy.

Tom slowly got to his feet and crawled onto the bed.

Chandler tried to squeeze tighter against the wall, fearing that Tom would
hit him. Instead, Tom drew near and staring Chandler in the eyes, slowly
put his hand under the other boy's shirt and touched his dick. It instantly
grew hard.

Chandler trembled with a combination of fear and excitement.

"What's this then?" Tom whispered as he wrapped his hand around the stiff
member. The slender rod throbbed under his touch.

Chandler couldn't speak. His throat was dry and he couldn't find words.

"When a mate helps out another mate, like you done for me, the first one
has to do something in return!"

Tom gently stroked Chandler's cock. "I know you've seen the girls put one
of these in their mouth, but the way you was listening to my stories
yesterday, I bet you've never had it done to you."

Chandler's eyes never left Tom's.

Tom stroked the boy a moment longer. Leaning over, Tom pushed the garment
aside and stared at Chandler's dick.

"You've got a nice bit of hair around it for a boy your age."

"I don't think I want you doing this," Chandler finally managed. He thought
of the times that drunks had grabbed at his ass or felt between his legs
when he was younger. If John saw them, they were thrown into the street.

Tom slid the skin back from the head, hocked up a bit of spit and let it
slowly drop from his mouth. It made a long string which landed onto the
slit. "You want me to stop then?

Chandler was again speechless.

Tom smiled, "I thought so," he winked; expecting the boy to have spoken up
if was serious about him stopping. Then, he slowly took him deep into his
mouth.

Chandler groaned. His hands naturally fell to Tom's head. He remembered the
scene when Sara had Tom in her mouth. Tom had been right, Chandler had no
intention of asking him to stop. "Suck it then, if you're going to..." he
whimpered.

Tom sucked, pulled back a bit and went back down. His hand slowly stroked
the shaft as he expertly worked his tongue up and down.

Chandler moaned, and urged his new friend on. He could see Tom was skilled
at this. "That's the way," he grunted.

Tom swirled his tongue around the head, stroked, and sucked for several
minutes. Chandler's breathing was growing more ragged, his grunts more
urgent.

Then without warning, the teen's cock was jerking.

"Oh, oh" Chandler panted. Four long squirts that seemed to come all the way
from his toes, shot out the end of his dick and deep into Tom's
mouth. Embarrassed at the suddenness and realizing what was happening, he
tried to pull himself out, but Tom held him firmly in place and merely
swallowed what he was delivering.  Chandler's eye's rolled back, he groaned
one last time, and surrendered.

The sounds of a door, footsteps in the hall and on the stairs, were
background sounds to Chandler's heavy breathing. He slowly came to himself
as Tom finished licking the last drops off his fast diminishing manhood.

"Bet you liked that," Tom laughed softly, as he sat back and wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand.

Chandler, his eyes wide, could only nod, `yes'.

"Mates stick together," Tom said in a matter of fact tone. He smiled and
then chuckled.


* * * *

This is the first part of what may become a series of adventures between
Chandler and Tom. Write me at Playbuddy123@yahoo.com with your comments. If
there is enough interest, I'll write more. Thanks, Jon