This story is fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. It does involve sexual activity between adult males. If you find such objectionable or are underage for reading such material, please read no further. Your reaction is appreciated. macoutmann@yahoo.com.
A FRENCH SEAMAN
by Macout Mann
A few Saturdays ago I went to check out some of the bars where you can usually find seamen from merchant ships that are in port. Most of them are interestin' to talk to, even if they're not interested, if you know what I mean.
In the first place I hit I saw this black-haired dude in a sleeveless black T that fit like it had been sewed on him. He was also wearin' trim-fittin black jeans that showed off a nice pouch, and his biceps either came from hours every day on exercise machines or from the kind of hard work I do every day. Well what could I do but take a seat a coupla stools down and order me a beer?
We got to talkin'. A lot of the traffic through here is coastal shipping, but this guy was a Frenchman on a freighter of French registry. They'd come directly from Marseilles. He spoke English probably better'n me except for the accent. So we had a coupla rounds, and he kept me entertained with some of his sea stories. Then he invited me to come back to his ship and "have a real drink" with him.
So I said, "why not?"
I did call Sue, my wife, and tell her where I was goin and that I'd be late. Even with port security these days, wanderin off on a foreign ship with a hunk you've never seen before can be dangerous.
Once on board, he took me to his cabin that he shared with another guy. It was cramped, like they all are. He said that if his mate should come back, he wouldn't mind my bein there. Both of 'em often brought guests back to the ship, he told me.
Well, I let Jacques call the tune. I've run into a lot of guys that invited me to their motel room or even home that just wanted somebody to talk to or unload on. He broke out a bottle of French wine. I'm not much on wine myself, but this was some good shit. After a glass, he said he was too warm, and peeled off his T. He asked me if I wasn't also warm, and I said I guess so and pulled my shirt off too. I was sittin' on the edge of his bunk and he was in the only chair.
"You have a nice body, Ron," he said. "I was sure you did, when you came into the bar."
"I guess that goes double for you," I replied.
He crossed the few feet between us and sat next to me. Quickly, he opened my jeans. "Oh, you go commando too," he exclaimed. "I like that, and I like your dick, Ron" He pronounced it, "deek."
I was surprised how gentle he was, as he fingered my jewels. And I tried to respond in kind. We embraced, finished strippin' each other, and each massaged the other's hard bod.
Jacques was just before takin' my stiff dick, already drippin' precum, when in walks his bunkmate, a huge, blond, Scandanavian dude, who filled the cabin and was so tall he almost scraped the overhead. Don't mind me," he said, just as Jacques took the full length of my dick into his mouth and throat.
I leaned back and relished the feeling of his lips sliding up and down my pole, and watched our blond friend shed his clothes. Damn, was he hung! I saw him lube himself up, then stick his hard cock straight up Jacques' ass in one thrust.
"Jacques loves to get fucked while he's sucking someone," he said. "Afterward , we can have some wine, then I'll suck you and Jacques can fuck me. After that who knows?"
I dropped a big load down Jacque's throat long before Lief, his bunkmate, filled the Frenchman's ass with cum; and I relished the feeling of my dick softening in Jacque's mouth, while Lief continued to pound his butt.
Another tumbler of red wine and I was feelin' no pain. Lief, the Scandanavian, was true to his word. He went down on me, lickin' from my pecs down to my balls, before tenderly takin' my dick into his big mouth. Meanwhile, Jacque hammered Lief's rear, just like Lief had taken Jacque before. This time me and Jacque came almost at the same time.
More wine, and then.....well, it was almost five in the mornin' when I got home. You talk about a sore dick! It felt great. Made me forget the hassle of gettin through port security. But I wonder if Jacques' roomie hadn't been there all the time.
Copyright 2007. 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.