Date: Mon, 12 May 2008 11:45:35 -0700
From: Michael Gleich <mgleich@earthlink.net>
Subject: Sailor Boy /  Part One.

Copyrights belong to author, Michael Gleich.

Sailor Boy

	The square-jawed swabbie looked in the mirror, moved his white
sailor's hat forward just a bit, and then grinned at his reflection. His
navy-blue, bell-bottom pants fit snug across a perfect bubble-ass. And his
shirt did the same to his pouted nipples that pressed against the fabric.
He knew he looked good. Sarge wouldn't want it any other way.

	Tim was ready for shore leave, after six months at sea, and Sarge
was ready too.

	He knew where to report, and as Tim pulled back the bamboo curtain
and walked into the seedy hotel ran by Madam Woo, an old Chinese whore from
Singapore, he knew he was in for a good time. Madam Woo provided what her
customers liked. Booze and privacy and made sure they had plenty of both.

	Tim walked past the rickety wood stairs that led to the rented
rooms of Madam Woo, and walked over to the bar where an old salt that went
by Bull was the barkeep. Grizzled, with an anchor tattoo on one arm and a
mermaid on the other, he had a short, chewed up stogie parked on the side
of his mouth. He didn't take shit. Someone got out of line, pull a knife,
or offend Madam Woo, which was hard to do, they were picked up and thrown
on their ear in an alley that wasn't fit to see in daylight. Bull didn't
change his T-shirt very often, but nobody said anything to him about
it. Nobody.

	Tim ordered whiskey.

	"You're lucky he ain't here yet," Bull said, "You might have time
for another one."

	"Thanks Bull, he said as he pulled a twenty from his wallet and put
it on the bar's top.

	When Bull sat the drink down, Tim picked it up, studied it for just
a second before he downed the drink in one gulp and sat the glass back for
another. Bull was ready and poured it while Tim still held the glass.

	The second one was to linger over until he heard Sarge's boots. He
knew the sound well and made sure his ear was tuned to pick up their
drumbeat over the noise of the jukebox. The sailor boy glanced quickly
around the room, just to check out the clientele. Dock workers,
construction, marines, the bar wasn't for sissies. No fucking suits unless
one of the men brought one in on a leash.

	Madam Woo hadn't changed a thing, she never did, except to extract
cash from anybody who started a fight and tore up the place. Red silk
lanterns, hung from the ceiling, omitted just enough light to see. The
walls were paneled wood and small oak tables with chairs that creaked, when
sat on, were placed around the bar. When Madam Woo was there, she sat at
the end of the bar. Her black and red dress slit up the sides. She would
have a long cigarette holder that held a smoking cigarette held in one
hand. Her nails were long too. And though she was ancient in years, she had
her make-up on as if expecting the fleet.

	Sarge took Tim to Madam Woo's the first time he met him. She ran
one of her long-curved fingernails over a nipple that Sarge played with
while they stood at the bar drinking.

	"Wish my nipples stood out like that. What you do Sarge? Make his
titties so nice." She crooned with glee and used her long fingernail to
flick the swollen nub laid bare from Sarge pawing him on the way to the
bar.

	"Shit Woo, this mother-fucker, he's so fuckin' horny. Them nips of
his just cry to be sucked on." Sarge downed his whiskey and pulled Tim to
his side. Taking the nipple in his mouth, he began to suck on it, playing
his tongue over the swollen gland.

	Tim remembered; he could still feel Sarge's teeth biting and
chewing his tit. Sarge sucked on the plump nub until he thought he would
scream. Then, as Sarge flicked his tongue back and forth on the succulent
nipple, his hand slipped under the sailor's bell-bottoms and cupped the
boy's butt-cheeks, his meaty fingers pushed on the hairless moist
butt-hole. Sarge sucked on Tim's tit and fingered-fucked that bubble ass
all the while Madam Woo smoked her cigarette. She seemed to enjoy hearing
Tim moan and wreath like a Saigon whore.

	Others watched too.

	The longshoremen, tanked up on beer and whiskey, their grizzled
faces grinned at Tim with his head lolling back in a state of ecstasy. The
marines, playing poker, stopped for a few minutes to listen to Tim groan
and they gazed at the sailor's pants as they became damp where the navy
man's cock pressed crying for release. They could see the cock was cut, so
rigid, the veins in Tim's dick pressed against his navy whites in their
want.

	"If he was China girl, I make big money." Woo said in her
matter-of-fact-way. She flicked the ash balanced on the long end of her
cigarette holder.

	"Well he ain't. He's one hundred percent Navy, just as I like them.
Ain't ya sailor-boy?"

	"Oh, Sarge. Yeah, I'm your mate. Jesus Sarge, when you goin' to
fuck me?"

	Tim woke from his memory when he heard the bar's bamboo curtain
spread and Sarge's boots hit the deck.

	"Sarge!" Tim's grin was almost as fast as his feet in their haste
to get the sailor next to the large man. Sarge took the cigar from his face
and held it while he tongue fucked the sailor's mouth. And Tim cooed and
pressed against the sergeant. The sailor's hand felt Sarge's bicep. The
bulged and tattooed muscle popped out like a cannon ball. The sailor rubbed
his groin on the marine's leg as if he was a dog desperate to bone.

	"Settle down sailor," Sarge said putting his cigar back in his
mouth. "You'll get dick and plenty of it. Right boys?" he looked around at
the other marines and longshoremen in the bar.

	"Yeah!" was their response.

	"I'll bring him down later, once I get a good nut."

	Tim remembered that first day when Sarge brought the sailor boy
down after hours of being fucked and used by Sarge. Led naked with only his
sailor cap on, Sarge's belt strapped around Tim's neck as a leash and
spread out on a table so the men could double fuck his ass and shove their
spent cocks in his throat for a good cleaning before going back to that hot
hairless butt-hole. The boy's flopping dick spurted cock-snot over the men
surrounding the table that mauled his tits, and pulled on his balls,
slapping the spurting cock every time it gooed.

	"Bull." Sarge looked over at the bartender cleaning glasses.
"Whiskey."

	Bull came over with two shot glasses and an opened bottle of booze,
he poured two shots and sat the bottle down between the glasses. Sarge
handed Tim one of the shots and slapped his glass against it. The two men
drank their shots quick and Sarge filled them up again. This time as he
held his cigar clamped in his teeth, he watched the sailor drink the shot
while he reached behind him and felt for the butt plug.

	He purred to the sailor. "You wearin' my present. Ain't you the
sweet thing."

	"Oh, Sarge I gotta wear it. If I don't, my damn asshole is so loose
it sucks up my shorts."

	Sarge grinned and put his hand under the sailor's pants so he could
pull on the butt plug. "Now ain't that too bad. I thought my fist jacking
my cock off in your ass might have loosened you up some. Well, guess you'll
just have to get use to wearing it. Huh, sailor boy?"

	"Oh I love it Sarge. It makes me feel like your fucking me all the
time, but it ain't you, it's just ten pounds of rubber cock."

	"Nice to have the real thing. Ain't it fuck boy."

	"It sure is Sarge."

	"Finish your drink, and maybe I'll let you suck me some while I
finish mine."

	The sailor downed his drink and looked up at the sergeant's face,
like a puppy dog wanting a bone. Sarge sipped on the lip of the glass and
groped the heavy package in his khakis. His cock grew weighted in its
jock. The veined prick bulged at the crotch in an obscene way and the boy
began to whimper.

	"Please Sarge. Please let me suck it," he moaned while looking at
the huge bulge and then up at the sergeant.

	Salvia dripped from his mouth, the sailor's tongue licked at his
lips and stuck it out to show Sarge how he would tongue the baby
maker. "Ah, please Sarge. Let me taste it."

	Sarge looked down at the sailor's imploring eyes. "Well. I'll let
you sniff it."

	The sailor dove to his knees, his face grazed Sarge's pants taking
in deep whiffs of the heady odors of jock just under the khakis.

	"Don't you fucking slobber on my pants Dip-shit."

	Tim licked at the drool coming from his mouth. "I won't Sarge.
Promise."

	"You fuckin' better not." Sarge pushed his hips out, smashing his
bulging jock in the sailor's face.

	Tim made sure he didn't leave any drool, but he did sniff in the
heady aroma of the sweat stained jock. Sarge watched him breath in the
aromas of his groin as he sipped his drink.

	"Okay, sailor boy. Take that barracuda out."

	Tim looked up at Sarge, the cigar chomped at the side of his
mouth. His dark eyes sparkling back at him. The sailor's hand quivered in
anticipation of zipping open the fly and pulling the hefty jock filled
bundle out for his viewing pleasure.

	The marines stopped their poker game. They too wanted to see the
enormous cock spring to life. The longshoremen silenced their muttering to
gander at the sailor opening the fly and carefully pulling out the
straining cock encased in its jock netting. Drool dripped off the tongue of
the sailor, it fell in strings down on the floor between where his kneeling
legs were spread.

	He took both hands and cupped the package to pull it out in the
open. It fell out, pendulous and hanging, strained by its weight and the
sailor whimpered for the order.

	"Oh, Sarge, I gotta have some dick. Please Sarge, let me suck on
that jock of yours. Please Sarge," his nose ran over the heady aroma of hot
cock encased in the filthy jock. Yellow encrusted stains streaked the
fabric and the outline of the great organ filled his view. He wanted to
mouth the head. Lick the balls through the jock pouch. Savor the stringent
flavor of cock-meat kept warm and moist.

	"Go for it fucker." Sarge poured himself another shot. And as the
sailor's tongue lapped over the outline of the cock's head, he poured a
little whiskey on the jock for his sailor boy.

	The marines couldn't believe the profile of the sailor and the
Sarge. They wondered how that fucking jock could fit in the sergeant's
pants. It stuck out as big as the sailor's head and they watched the boy's
tongue work the fabric of the jock. Pulling it with each swipe, pushing his
mouth as far as he could into the pouch, the sailor's tongue never stopped
covering every bit of encrusted, sweat-stained marine jock filled with the
most incredible cock and bag of marine balls.

	"That's real nice, you clean that jock up sailor boy, clean it
good. Maybe I'll let you have it for a hammock," Sarge laughed and
scratched under his arm. "Now you take that fucker of mine out and suck on
the head."

	Tim couldn't believe what he heard and looked up at Sarge. It
usually takes much longer before he can suck the head. He missed cleaning
the boots and smelling the stink under Sarge's arms. He missed begging and
pleading for just a taste of the mammoth dick.

	"Oh, Sarge you're so good to me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."
Tim pulled at the jock with his teeth. He crossed his eyes watching the
great cock become exposed as he pulled the jock down.

	His nose rubbed along the length, and he kept pulling until the
damn thing sprung free and hung half way down Sarge's leg. Tim's tongue
flicked at the leaking piss slit. He lapped at the groove at the head of
the cock for anything it might offer. He nursed on it and took both of his
hands to hold the Sarge's fucker up to his face.

	The head began to glisten with his spit. Sarge poured another shot
and downed it.

	"That's enough, I need to nut. Now."

	With that, Sarge grabbed the sailor by the scruff of his neck,
picked him up, and bent him over the bar's top. Tim looked wild-eyed at
Bull who's smirking face told him he was going to enjoy what Sarge was
about to do. With one hand Sarge held the sailor against the bar, his other
hand grabbed the sailor's pants and pulled them down. The sergeant then
grabbed the butt plug and pulled it with a yank. Tim's guts followed along
and his ass lips grabbed at the last of the plug before they folded back
into his ass. Sarge then slammed the butt plug right in front of the
sailor's face. It was coated with butt juice and slime and Tim could feel
the heat radiate from the plug being in his ass so long.

	"Bull, hand me that old jock strap you have on the floor. The one
you use to hit the barflies with."

	Bull picked up the filthy old jock, crusted and damp. He handed it
to Sarge who put the pouch over the cone of the butt-plug.

	"Now you have something to lick while I fuck your ass."

	With that, Sarge slammed his cock all the way in Tim's ass. The
sailor's eyes bulged out and his face became red, he grunted and grabbed
the side of the bar to hold on as Sarge slammed him. While fucking Tim's
plump little butt, Sarge poured some whiskey on the jock-covered butt-plug.

	"Start slurping while it's hot, boy. You don't want dinner to get
cold. Do you?" He punctuated the last word by grinding his baby-maker deep
in the sailor's ass.

	Tim's tongue reached out and began to slurp on the plug, licking
the pouch smeared with whiskey, butt juice, and slime. Each slam from Sarge
pushed his mouth on the plug, and from behind, the marines sitting at the
table had stopped their card game again. The dockworkers put down their
beers to watch Sarge's bull balls swing back and forth as he rutted the
sailor.


Let me know if you want more of the story.
mgleich@earthlink.net