Date: Wed, 23 Mar 2016 15:02:50 +0000
From: DavidandLaurie <rampage938@btinternet.com>
Subject: DANCIN' THE SAILORS HORNPIPE

Hi, folks! For some 16/17 years I was an Air Force man. During my service I
was seconded quite a number of times to serve with the Army, the Navy and
the Marines not only national but international Allied forces – and
occasionally non-allied from Eastern Europe, Asia and other areas
world-wide. This tale is fictional but does contain an element of truth as
I found it. Hope you will enjoy reading it.



MANY PEOPLE ACQUAINTED with guys in the Navy have been known to wonder what
sailors do to relieve their feelings when they've been out at sea for
months at a time with no women around. At least, that was my experience
before the fairer sex was allowed to put to sea operationally with the men
a few years back. Life is probably much easier going today for the average
Jack Tar than it was several years ago, despite an official `no touching'
policy when at sea.

I expect I would find what I found then: most sailors are probably straight
but, in reality, a fair number are at least `bi-curious' and willing to try
anything once, if only to relieve their pent-up sexual needs. There really
ain't much to do on a boat, save wander the passageways, jack off in the
showers or in your rack, and flirt harmlessly with the other guys – but
sometimes that can get a bit too serious, if you follow my drift. A bit of
harmless philandering can soon get out of hand and you'll quickly find
yourself dancin' the sailor's hornpipe!

I was on my second tour of sea duty and had been on board my ship for
several months, cruising around the Med and enjoying long, lazy days sun
bathing on deck whenever I got the chance. We also took in the occasional
shore visit whenever we made port for refuelling or to pick up fresh
rations. It was on one of these brief stopovers in Malta that a new guy
arrived on board. His name was Cameron and he had been flown out to Valetta
by the RAF to replace one of our crew who had been taken ill and was
ordered back to Blighty (the UK, that is) for hospitalisation.

Cameron was not the first new guy to join the crew since I had been on
board, but he kind of ended up as the target for lots of flirting and
sexual innuendo. Maybe that was because of his film star looks. He was a
hunky blond and sported an almost permanent all-over tan – yes,
including his manly bits. It wasn't because anyone thought he was gay but
it was considered to be hugely amusing to tell him it was John's turn with
him tonight, or to warn him not to take a shower when Kev was in there,
harmless stuff like that. Cameron never argued with our jibes, taking the
ribbing in good part, realising that our crew was small in numbers and that
everyone knew everyone else on board well enough for this joshing to be
taken as innocent, albeit somewhat crude, fun.

A couple of the guys jokingly told Cameron that I gave `serious'
massages. They meant it to be taken in a lewd way but it happened to be
true. It was a skill I had learnt before enlisting and it could provide me
with a bona fide opportunity of getting `in touch' with him. They were
right, I did want him – badly – but they were wrong about my not
attempting a grand seduction and eventually the day dawned when I got him.

We had been out to sea for way too long around the time the Gulf War kicked
off and tensions on board were mounting rapidly. Suddenly, acrimonious
altercations broke out amongst former buddies, where before there had been
simple friendly banter. Life was becoming seriously alarming and we were
all wondering what the chances were of us being involved in hostilities in
some way. The odds seemed to be shortening almost hourly that we would soon
be ordered down to the Gulf. As it was, the captain received orders direct
from the MOD to turn the ship around and head for the closest friendly port
at top speed for refuelling, pick up additional rations and, most ominous
of all, additional ammunition. When the captain returned to the ship after
receiving his orders ashore, he announced that we would have to remain in
port for several days. Apart from a small watch remaining on board for
security reasons, the rest of us would be given a spell of shore leave.

By now, I was horny as hell but also tired and wanting to go on the town
for a bender, all at the same time. I had noticed before that there is
nothing as horny as a boatload of sailors when they are facing the prospect
of some life threatening action involving the use of live ammo. This
usually happens during a major exercise but this time, however, we all knew
we were facing real live wartime action. Most of us youngsters had never
given a thought to what it would be like to be involved in a shooting
war. You could probably have detected the testosterone from miles away!

To give everyone a fair shot at shore leave, the crew were divided into
small groups; Cameron and I were lucky to be put together in the same
group. When our turn for a spell of shore leave was called, I asked Cameron
if he wanted to go and find a cheap hotel room, get drunk, get fucked and
generally relax. Cameron said he was OK about it so we donned our walking
out whites and hit town.

I had already taken the precaution of finding out where the better cheap
places were from one of the more experienced guys on board who had some
knowledge of the dockyard area of the town. Cameron and I soon found a
medium size local hotel which appeared to be reasonably clean and quiet; it
was definitely the sort of establishment where no questions would be
asked. We checked in and paid for the room. I did not notice if Cameron had
clocked the smirk on the desk clerk's face as he handed us the key to our
room. Once inside, the first thing we did was to remove shoes, shorts and
ties, lie back on the comfortable double bed and relax. It is a good
feeling knowing you are not going to sleep on board, where drunken
arseholes and security alerts wake you up at all hours.

There was not much to do in that room. The TV was already on and we found a
greasy pack of cards in one of the bedside lockers along with the remains
of a much-thumbed porn magazine. This had been left behind by some horny
bastard who'd exercised his wrist giving himself a good time looking at the
smutty pictures. Most of the pages were stuck together with dried jism. We
decided on a few games of rummy to while away the time. We played for a
while, until Cameron decided it was kind of hot and took off his shirt,
revealing a bronzed and chiselled upper torso unspoilt by chest hair. There
was only a light dusting of golden fuzz below his sternum and running in a
thin line down the middle of his abdomen to his belly button and then
southwards only to disappear beneath the waistband of his Y-fronts. Since
that day, I have often wondered why it was so hot in that room. Had Cameron
deliberately turned up the heat while I was taking a leak? I'll never know
for sure but the jury was undecided on that.

However, I followed his example and we were now both down to our
skimpies. Like I said before, I was horny as hell and I had a hard-on that
was not going to quit until it had performed for England. I moaned to
Cameron about how fucking horny I was but did not get much reaction,
verbally or otherwise. But I was still horny!

Getting randier by the minute, I eventually started playing with my cock
through my underpants. I made out I was doing it unconsciously, absent
mindedly probing my leaking cock slit with a finger nail, causing a rapidly
expanding patch of dampness to appear. Even this did not seem to grab his
attention like it should or cause the positive reaction from him I was
hoping for. I wanted to see his hard dick. I knew it would be a big hard
one from what I had seen in the showers: he hung thick and low, his balls
contained in a large hairy pouch. I did not really care for caution any
more and pulled down the elastic waistband on my underpants to reveal my
throbbing, leaking boner and stroked it a few times, emitting a low grunt
as I did so. That got his attention real quick!

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped.

"Nothin'," I muttered innocently. We continued playing cards for a while
longer and then I asked him if he wanted a massage. I had forgotten to
stuff my rampant cock back into my Ys.

"OK," he said, glancing at my heavily pulsating manhood, "but I gotta take
a leak first."

He swung off the bed and made his way to the bathroom. I did not know if he
just wanted a massage or something more intimate but I was soon going to
make it my business to find out!

When he got done taking a piss, he came out of the bathroom. I noticed
right away that something was different: the pouch of his pants was a lot
fuller. I was sitting on the floor between him and the bed and had a great
view of his basket. I still wasn't certain, though. Maybe it just kind of
relaxed when he took a leak. He got on to the bed again and stretched out
on his stomach. "Let's go, matey", he said.

Needing no further urging, I got up, clambered on to the bed and sat
astride Cameron's upper thighs, facing his head and making damn sure no
part of me was in physical contact with his body. I did not want to scare
him off just yet. At least, not before I'd had my evil way – or most of
it – with him.

I began by slowly massaging his shoulders and back. After a while, having
rubbed and kneaded everywhere I could reach from that position, I turned
round to work on his butt and thighs. I did notice that he had cleverly
positioned himself in such a way that his shrouded semi-tumescent cock lay
between his legs, pointing towards his feet. I could not be sure, but I
thought I detected the beginnings of a small damp patch where his cock slit
ought to be.

I began by stroking and squeezing his firmly muscled buttocks through the
thin white cotton of his underpants, continuing with the inside muscle of
his strongly defined upper thighs. This, I thought, was my opportunity and
I made damn sure to `accidentally' rub against his rapidly hardening
cock. The first couple of times this happened, he didn't say anything, just
gently moved his leg so that I had to reposition my hand. After the fourth
or fifth attempt at touching him up, he complained about my hand straying
and what the fuck did I think I was doing? This made me unsure of what he
wanted but his cock was rigidly hard and beginning to leak copiously. There
was no uncertainty now: the small damp patch I had initially detected was
expanding rapidly into a sizeable area of considerable wetness. His dick
was telling me a lot – and my own majestic manhood was reinforcing the
message!

I was soon back at work on his buttocks, slipping one hand under the
elastic waistband, my fingers gently stroking his warm naked flesh. This
time he did not complain about my wandering digits and lay perfectly still
as I continued to massage his butt cheeks. I was careful not to reach
between them but I did take the opportunity to tickle his scrotum here and
there. This went on for a short while, allowing him to become accustomed to
the feel of a man's hand caressing his arse. Becoming bolder, I decided to
concentrate my activity on one cheek, his right one, so I reached down the
crack of his arse to get a better grip. He did not say anything nor did he
try to move away so I made a point of delicately skimming the side of my
hand across his rosebud. He still made no protest but could not quite
manage to repress a low groan as I sneaked my pinkie into his hole and move
it around a little. This was clearly going way beyond a regular massage.

My move met with no resistance and this told me that Cameron would soon be
receptive to a more serious major assault on his manhood. Reaching between
his legs, I grabbed his cock and put it in my mouth, although he was still
wearing his underwear. At last, this provoked a reaction.

"Stop it!" he exclaimed.

"What?" My voice was muffled by the cotton-shrouded dick in my mouth, but
Cameron gave no answer. Fuck, was I horny!

I raised my head, releasing his cock in the process and told him to roll
over on to his back so that I could massage his front. He did not appear to
be too keen on that idea and seemed to be self-conscious about displaying
his rampant hard-on. Nudging him over, I proceeded to give his burnished,
sculpted pecs a hard massage, not forgetting to pinch and twist his nipples
while doing so. Each time I gave him an extra sharp jerk he groaned softly,
deep in his throat. Keeping both hands firmly clamped to his chest, I
started licking and nibbling his skin, gradually moving down to his
mid-section. At this stage, I abandoned all pretence, pulling down his
sodden underwear, swallowing his leaking, solid cock in one swift
motion. That earned me a sudden intake of breath and a husky, "Oh, Jeez!
That's good!"

He did not even try to give me a nudge to tell me to stop. I sent my tongue
zipping around his cock head, dipping into his cock slit, savouring the
sweet sticky saltiness of his flowing seminal juices. I loved sucking that
boisterously rampant cock. I had wanted to do it for months: now it was in
my mouth and it was marvellous. I continued sucking him until I detected he
was starting to lose interest. I got off his cock and kissed him full on
for the first time. He responded by thrusting his tongue into me and
performing as if he had been doing nothing else since puberty.

I returned to his riotously throbbing equipment and really gave him major
head. His reflexes kicked in and he began thrusting his impassioned cock
meat down my throat as far as it would go, his rhythm getting faster and
more frenzied with each thrust. I was becoming concerned that he might drop
his load sooner than I had anticipated and decided it was time to cool
things down a bit. There was something else he had that I wanted – and
he was sitting on it!

We had both discarded our underpants by now and rolling Cameron over on to
his belly, I grabbed both his buttocks, splitting his cheeks apart and
putting my throbbing, aching cock between them and rubbing it up and down
his arse crack a few times. I wanted him to experience the extraordinary
sensation of feeling, for the first time, a fully distended male weapon
searching for his secret entrance. Judging by his reaction, I need not have
worried about unduly alarming him! However, before I could reach home base,
there was one small problem to be overcome. I had no prepared for events
reaching this stage so quickly and there was nothing around with which to
lubricate him. I had no choice but to go down and lick in circles around
his arsehole.

I knew it had to be great for him when he closed his eyes, moaned softly
and tossed his head from side to side. His hands tensed as he clutched at
the sheets, his fingers clenching and unclenching as lust built quickly in
his groin. My lapping tongue got closer and closer and I started dabbing at
his rosebud with the tip of my tongue. As I was toying with his hole he
relaxed and I slipped my tongue inside just a little way, just far enough
to wriggle it around. He kind of giggled and relaxed some more so I began
to give him a serious tongue-fuck.

He was ready. I coaxed him up on to all fours with his arse raised in the
air, positioning myself with my cock resting on his arse. I slowly worked
the head of my dripping tool up and down his arse crack, letting him
delight in the warm sensuous feeling of my cock on his arsehole.

After some minutes of this, I stopped the tease and cautiously pushed my
cock head against his virginal(?) entrance. He simply thrust back against
me, not to push me away but to try forcing my pulsating boner into his
hole. I drove forward and relaxed, then pushed a little further. The head
of my cock soon popped into him, with a sigh from me and a little yelp from
him. I thrust and drew back until I was all the way in, my pubic hair
scraping against his arse cheeks. He grunted deep in his throat as the
friction caused by my thrusting cock warmed the inner lining of his
arsehole. Once, he cried out that I was hurting him but I did not care.

I thrust harder and faster until, with a mighty roar and gush, I came deep
into his gut. I came so much it backed up and began dribbling out of his
arse but I did not stop. I was still horny, still hard and Cameron's butt
was now well lubricated with my jism. I wanted Cameron to know what a truly
hard man-to-man fuck was like, to experience the glorious agony of another
man slamming his rampant, rutting sexual organ into the depths of your
body, pulling roughly all the way out before plunging and probing ever
deeper. As I smashed between Cameron's buttocks, you could hear the sweaty
slap of flesh meeting flesh, my balls crushing against him as I thrust as
deep as I could. The man beneath me groaned and thrashed around on the bed,
loving the wild ride I was giving him.

When, at last, I was done I rolled Cameron over on to his back. I wanted to
suck his cock some more. To my surprise I saw from the mess on the sheetgs
that I had fucked the cum right out of him. No matter, I wanted that
cock. It was still hard and oozing more pre-cum. I took it into my mouth
and throat, all the way down to the root and thick undergrowth of pubic
hair surrounding it. His dick was slick with cum which made it all the
better. As I clamped around his thick shaft, he soon began moaning and I
knew he could not be far from shooting his second load. I concentrated on
his cock head, swirling my tongue around the ridge, up and down the
underside, the tip of my tongue probing the viscous salinity of his cock
slit. I felt him swell up, so down I went again all the way, contracting my
throat muscles around his shaft as he squirted his load over my tonsils and
down my throat. As he finished, I held some of his man-juice in my mouth
and raised my head to meet his. Placing my cummy lips against his half-open
mouth, I shared his cum with him in a long, lingering kiss.

Later, back on board our ship, he got me alone in one of the darkened
passageways and made me promise not to hint to anyone about our
`indiscretion'. He was worried that if it got out, his Navy career would be
over. There was no problem with this as far as I was concerned – I did
not want to be kicked out either. Nevertheless, Cameron and I got together
several more times during that tour of the Gulf. I did have one or two
tense moments when the guys jossed Cameron about watching out for himself
in the shower if I was around; he would colour up and disappeaqr. I'd just
grin lecherously and say to myself, "He's on watch tonight."

As I've told you earlier, there really is nothing much to do on a boat,
save wander the passageways, jack off in the showers or your rack, and even
flirt a little with the other guys. Just don't take the coquetry too far
unless, like me, you intend dancin' the sailor's hornpipe!