A Young Sea Soldier
by Andy Macdonald
andymacdon@hotmail.com
Legal Notice: The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts. The story is a work of fiction and has little basis in reality.
Copyright 2001
The author retains copyright to this story. Placing this story on a website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright.
PART I.
I have to say that I'm one very lucky young guy. All my life I've loved sailing and at school I set my heart on getting a job to do with sailing. When I was eighteen, on the advice of a friend I started to hang round the marinas at all of the big regattas that took place on the South coast of England. It was good advice 'cos I got a lot of chances to sail. I came across a few dirty old men who reckoned a cute eighteen-year- old was only hanging around for their sexual delectation. I very quickly got them to realise that they should apply their energies to tucking in reefs rather than trying to get into my briefs.
As I got more trips, I got more experience and was soon a pretty useful sail-trimmer. I moved from sail-trimming to foredeck hand and after a couple of seasons, had made quite a name for myself.
It's a great job, lots of high profile sailing and lots of really hunky guys. Yes, I have to admit, I do fancy hunky young guys. Problem is most of them are straight as dies - and I die for them! Just imagine a boat load of hard-working hard- muscled studs whose usual rig is tight tee-shirts and skimpy shorts. On most of the boats the crew have a uniform which is great because I happen to be very switched on by guys in uniforms. The crews' rig was a bit of a turn on, almost as big turn-on as young sailors and young soldiers in their sexy uniforms - Kwwahhhhhhhh. My ideal fuck is an innocent young soldier who laps up discipline and is eager to be taught the ways of the world - and the bedroom.
This particular adventure started off with a weekend I'd spent in Glasgow. where I'd discovered just such a well-disciplined young squaddy. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
At the end of my second sailing season, by the time I was nearly twenty, I'd sailed out to Antigua Week and had become one of the key members of a successful racing crew. I got on really well with the owner and I knew that he liked me - I had an idea why he liked me but it was only an idea and it was safer to keep it that way. Best he concentrated on reefing! He offered me a permanent job looking after the yacht in harbour and crewing on the races and provided I got my Yachtmaster Exam he said that he'd employ me as his Skipper. Until then I could be the Yacht Hand or 'boat- bum' as he put it. I jumped at this opportunity.
After Antigua week and a cruise around the Caribbean, the yacht was back in Britain and berthed up in a fairly remote marina just South of Oban in Scotland quite near to one of the owner's homes. I lived on board full-time and was to supervise a big refit that winter to get the yacht in tip-top condition for the next season's races. We had high hopes of being selected for the Commodore's Cup, an international and high- powered regatta.
One evening the owner phoned me:
"Look Andy, I know you haven't got your Yachtmasters yet but I reckon you've got more than enough experience to skipper the yacht. I've leant her for two week's adventure training to the regiment in Edinburgh. I find that I can't now get up there myself, how do you feel about taking them out yourself?"
Wow! I thought, great! Nice one.
"Ermm, yea I reckon I could do that. Do you know what they want to do?" I asked him.
"Good man, I knew I could rely on you. Yes, well a Captain Campbell will ring you, he's got the boat's mobile number, he'll probably call you this afternoon. If they're any problems ring me at the office, otherwise it's over to you. Give 'em a good time, young Campbell is the nephew of a close friend of mine and he's a very sensible young officer so - anything they want is OK by me. Oh yes, Campbell's done quite a bit of sailing with the army so he'll be able to help you with sailing the boat, mooring up and so on."
Sure enough, about three o'clock the phone rang.
"Hello, this is Alastair Campbell, can I speak to Andy Macdonald please?"
"Hi, this is Andy, I was expecting a call from you."
"Oh right, so you know about our two week adventure training exercise?"
"Yes, my owner briefed me this morning."
Captain Campbell went on to give outline arrangements for the trip. It seemed he wanted to sail up to Skye and put the soldiers ashore for some mountain climbing, intersperse that with some sailing, do some more work ashore and then return to Ardfern. It sounded good to me, it should be a lot of fun.
"The lads are all quite young," he continued, "apart from myself and one other young officer, they're all in pre-training for the Para regiment."
Yes! I thought. Yes, it certainly should be an interesting two weeks.
On the following Monday a large camouflage coloured army truck pulled up on the marina car park and disgorged a group of freshly-scrubbed young men with frighteningly short haircuts and a small mountain of kit and rations. I'd been told that they were going to bring their own army 'composite' rations. This slightly older guy strode down the marina pontoon as I stood watching them from the cockpit.
"Andy?" he queried.
"Yea, hi, I'm Andy."
He strode up to the side of the yacht to where I'd jumped down onto the pontoon.
"Alistair Campbell," he offered, shoving out a powerful hand.
We shook hands and he grinned at me. I liked him right away. I'd been afraid that 'Captain Campbell', friend of a friend of the owner would turn out to be stuffy army git. Instead it seemed that he was a regular guy, friendly and obviously looking forward to the trip.
"Right, Jamie, get the lads and the kit down here, will you?" He turned back to me,
"OK Andy, can I come on board and work out the accommodation for the lads?"
"Sure," I answered and we both clambered on board and went down below.
"There are two of you officers, is that right?"
"Yep, myself and young Jamie." he replied.
"Well I suggest you take the owner's cabin at the aft end. This is my bunk and the lads can use all the rest of the bunks."
Between us we sorted out the arrangements and the lads filed down the pontoon, each one bowed down by a huge backpack and then they all piled on board. They seemed to be a cheerful bunch, obviously pretty excited at this unusual activity which had been organised for them.
"Erm Alistair," I said, "there's no way we can clutter up the boat with all those packs. Can the guys unpack what they'll need for sailing, leave the mountain kit in the packs and we can stow the in the sail locker. Fortunately the two largest genoas are ashore for repair so I guess there'll be room."
While they were sorting out the gear I fired up the kettles on the galley stove.
One cheeky guy stood behind the wheel and started barking unintelligible and highly un-nautical orders.
"Get away from there, McNeil, you goof!" ordered Jamie with a grin and the young soldier shot down below but not before I'd clocked what a cute, fit body he had to go with the cheeky, impish face..
I showed the boys where their lockers were located and they all began to stow their kit away.
"Right lads," said Alistair, "I want you sitting around the table in five and we'll give you a briefing, OK?" He turned to me, "So, Andy, are you OK to brief us about the boat? What we can and can't do and the basic safety rules?"
"Sure," I answered. I was used to us taking on new young crew members at the start of a race so a briefing like that wasn't a problem.
Soon they were all sitting down and I plonked a big pot of tea on the table with milk and sugar and slid out ten mugs. Popular move, it seemed, as their young faces lit up at the sight of 'a brew'.
Alistair introduced me to the guys and then sorted them out into Port and Starboard watches. I started the briefing with a lot of stuff about living in close quarters on the boat, fire and stuff and when I'd finished Alistair took over:
"Right lads, listen in. Andy here is our skipper, you'll call him Skipper and you'll do exactly as he tells you - just as if it came from me - OK?"
The guys nodded and he went on with the military stuff.
We agreed to sail in two hour's time. I quickly realised that Alistair was a competent yachtsman, without any prompting he talked the lads through removing the sail cover, asked me which genoa I wanted and got the guys to bend it on. Jamie obviously knew his way around a yacht as well because he took charge of his watch and instructed the in how we'd hoist the sails when we got going. Without my needing to say anything, one lad cleared the table and washed up the mugs in the galley sink.
Sure enough, two hours later we were ready to go.
"Alistair, will you go forward and look after the line, Jamie could you look after the stern lines?" The two of them moved confidently into position, let go as ordered and I motored the yacht clear of the berth. Without any need for orders I saw that Alistair had positioned his guys for setting the mainsail. As soon as we were clear I pointed the yacht up into the wind and gave him a nod. The main shot up. I turned away from the wind and steered down the short sea loch towards the open sea.
"Jamie, can you give me a lad for the wheel?" I asked.
"OK McNeil, you seemed to want to steer," and the cheeky guy squeezed past me and grabbed the wheel. But now he wasn't anything like as confident as he'd been in the marina.
"OK McNeil . . . . - hey guy, what's your first name?"
The young soldier hesitated, glancing at his officer who nodded briefly.
"Ma name's Iain, Skip," he replied.
"OK Iain, you see that buoy right ahead of us? Steer for that for the moment, OK?"
The young soldier tried the wheel and after a few wild swings, soon settled the yacht down, gaining confidence with every second. His eyes shone with an excitement he completely failed to hide.
As soon as we were clear of the loch I had Jamie's watch hoist the genoa and the yacht immediately powered forward, heeling to the fresh breeze.
I'd taken the wheel myself while the headsail was being hoisted but now I wanted to check on the navigation.
"Can I have someone to steer?" I requested and immediately Iain McNeil jumped forward again.
"No!" I said, "let's have someone else, how about you?" I gestured to another guy who was standing near the wheel.
"Och that wanker Benson, he'll niver git the hang o' it." muttered Iain, obviously disappointed at having to give up the wheel to someone else. "The bloody poofter'll probably pile us up on the rocks."
The nervous soldier stood back and Iain moved back to the wheel.
"No not you again Iain, I want someone else to start to get experience of steering. On you go lad," I said. "Benson, eh? What's your first name Benson?"
"Bumboy Benson," muttered the disgruntled Iain and another of the guys sitting in the cockpit immediately commented under his breath, "Och Arse-bandit Anderson, you're just a fuckin' pervert yourself whose bin longing tae get into his pants for weeks!." A general sniggering broke out.
"Billy, Skip" he said softly in answer to my question.
"OK Billy, here you go, just steer it like a car but don't use too much helm, she's sailing fast now and you'll find her very responsive."
As he took the wheel I could see that the poor lad's hands were shaking, he was really scared at the idea of handling this big yacht. The land was very indistinct by now and he was going to have to steer a compass course:
"I want you to steer 350 - look at the compass, see we're on it now, just keep that small black line on the 350 . . . . " I stood beside him, instructing him for a few minutes until I felt that he'd got the hang of it. He was a natural and in no time he was steering a steady course. Nice lad but obviously lacking confidence and, I suspected, despised a bit by the others. His cute young baby-face probably didn't help him with any kind of a macho para image. Hmmm . . . Bumboy Benson - I wish!
I stood close beside him to give him confidence and I watched him for some time, quietly telling him which way to move the wheel when he was about to get it wrong.
Each time he swung the wheel the wrong way he glanced round at me in embarrassment but in fact he was a natural and before long he had gained confidence and was steering well, so once I was sure that he was safe I handed over control of the yacht to Jamie and went down to the Nav station to work out a route, entering the waypoints into the GPS then I briefed Alistair and asked him to take over the watch. We stormed our way North with the good strong breeze and I could see that most of the guys were really enjoying this novel experience, new that is except to the two officers and they had grins right the way across their faces.
After a couple of hours in which we covered nearly twenty miles, I realised that everyone must be getting hungry:
"I'll just get someone started on the evening meal," I said to Alistair, "If you can send a couple of the lads down into the galley, I'll work with them and show them what to do."
"Right, let me see, yes - Smith, Benson down you go to the galley and work with the skipper, OK?"
The two guys he'd named came below.
"'Kay lads, why don't you get your foul-weather gear off and we'll get to work setting up a good hot meal."
I looked at the two young soldiers, I'd already scoped Benson while introducing him to steering, a seriously cute young guy with thick ginger hair, pale skin and emerald green eyes. Now his lithe body emerged from the protective clothing like a gorgeous dragonfly from a plastic chrysalis - muscular upper body, broad shoulders, thin flat stomach, long, long legs and a chunky, muscular bum that was to die for. A bum that begged a most intimate inspection but was obviously well off limits.
"Right lads, I don't know anything about these composite rations you've brought. You get the food sorted, decide what we're going to have and I'll show you how the stove works and what utensils we've got." The guys opened up two boxes of rations, I sorted out the pots and pans and showed them how to deal safely with the gas cooker and we set about preparing then meal.
The lads were willing and did all the work, just asking me for help if there was anything they couldn't work out for themselves. I stood back and let them get on with it - but I found it very difficult not to stare at Billy Benson's sexy young body. His camouflage slacks were tight, so tight that they looked as if they'd been tailored to fit his greek-godlike body. I could only let my eyes sweep over him, lingering for just seconds at a time, my cock twitched in my boxers as my attention was riveted to that beautiful soldier-bum, the thin cotton material stretched so tightly across the packed twin mounds and creasing up into the deep valley between them as he worked away in the galley. The material was so tight that I could clearly see the seams of his underwear through the thin outer cloth. Yesss. Just like 'Arse-bandit' Anderson I already wanted desperately to get into the pretty young soldier's pants. Seriously wanted to do hot, dirty, lewd, sexual things to his cute young- male body. Things only a lusty lover could even contemplate allowing.
We were all working together in close proximity in the small galley and I was braced in a corner with my hands on a grab-rail to steady me when the yacht gave a lurch and the sexy bottom that I'd been surreptitiously eyeing, was thrown towards me, squashed onto my hand. Billy had been thrown backwards onto me and his warm, hard buttock was pressed onto the back of my outstretched hand! I could feel the heat from his body and I breathed in the sharp, male smell of his hot body and was it my imagination or was the intimate contact prolonged just a few seconds more than needed? Bum-boy for real? Well I would be his arse-bandit in a flash!
"Uh. . sorry Skipper, I lost my balance . . . uhh . . . I think I'm going to be sick!"
"OK Billy, shoot up on deck, lean over the rail . . on the downhill side or you'll regret it."
The young soldier lurched up on deck and I followed as he shot down to the lee side and stretched out under the guard-rail. This was very dangerous because it was very possible for a body to slide gently over the side, especially a body concentrating on being sea-sick. I moved after him and sat beside his outstretched body. I grabbed the waistband of his slacks, his T-shirt had ridden up so I got a good grip my hand again feeling the damp warmth of his bare skin, now my face was inches from those chunky buttocks, I could look and imagine for as long as I liked as the poor guy wretched helplessly over the side and his slacks slipped lower revealing the waistband of his underwear.
He wriggled back inboard, "Very sorry Skipper," he gasped.
"That's OK, don't worry about it - what we call a Technicolor yawn, that's all."
Then, to my surprise, he slid back down below and resumed his work in the galley. I reckoned that he'd just give up at that stage and slink off to his bunk, but this lad had guts - for all his prettiness.
Soon the meal was ready and we served up an 'all-in' stew, great bowls full which disappeared with amazing rapidity as the hungry young soldiers wolfed it down. There was some curious concoction to follow - baked jam roll I think it was with great globs of thick yellow custard.
The wind held as night fell and we had a cracking sail Northwards through that night. To my surprise, although they'd only just joined and the crew were new to sailing, Alistair said that he wanted to press on Northwards to the Minch, taking advantage of the fresh Southwesterly. The lads seemed fine, it was a broad reach, only a couple of them were sea-sick and I reckoned it was safe to sail on through the night. Alistair was obviously a very experienced yachtsman and I was happy to leave him on watch for four hours while I grabbed some sleep and then I got up to keep an eye on Jamie when he came on watch with his lads at 4.00am.
We made a fast passage to the North and I anchored the yacht under Dunstaffnage Castle in one of the sea lochs on the Isle of Skye. Straight away the soldiers started their preparations for their first shore expedition. Backpacks were dragged out, gear sorted and stowed and, under my guidance, they got out, assembled and inflated the rubber dinghy. We had a bit of trouble with the outboard but these guys were used to such equipment and soon had it going.
When they were all set, they ferried across to the landing stage, I took the last two and waved them off as they marched along the minor road towards the Cuillins. Good luck to them. Hill walking and mountain climbing was not my scene and by the look of the gear these lads were carrying, they were going to do some quite serious stuff. Me? I was staying on board to ship-keep.
I got back on board and stared at the chaos down below. The guys had left quite a mess of gear strewn around and the boat had a sweaty, young man smell, sort of like a locker-room smells after the team has stripped off - sexy or what?
I set to and cleared up but I couldn't stop myself from going over to the bunk where Billy Benson had slept and feeling like a criminal, I opened his locker and peered in to see if he'd left anything on board. Yes! There, tucked away right down in a corner. One of Billy's T-shirts, khaki cotton. The armpits were stained with his sweat and I put it to my nose and inhaled the most delicious odour I had ever smelled - sharp at first, but nutty, rich and all-man. It reminded me even more of the smell of our locker room at school and made my dick so hard remembering how I'd watched the cute young soldier. Having relished the concentrated male-scents of his dirty garment I groped around to see if he'd left any other item of his clothing there -- maybe something more . . intimate. Unfortunately not, just the T-shirt.
I went back to the galley and made myself a cup of tea then checked my mobile and put it on charge, Alistair and I'd agreed that's how we'd stay in touch. Now I realised that I was pretty wacked after the passage up from Ardfern so I decided to turn in and grab a few hours of sleep . . . . .
. . . . I was in a city, Glasgow, I'd just done a bit of a pub crawl and now I was wandering around some park, seeking out anything interesting that might be happening. Sure enough, I soon homed in on some obviously sexual sounds in the bushes near me and I wanted to see the gay men who were making those sounds so I slid silently into the dense foliage and found myself watching a young man's arse getting right royally shagged, his face and chest jammed tightly against the trunk of a tree by this muscled and tattooed guy who fucked him hard and fast. A genuine arse- bandit. The muscled guy rammed his cock home for what was obviously the final time and grunted, "I came up ya!".
I moved on, attracted by noises of more sexual activity. Again I crept in for a better look and was immediately seriously aroused by what I could see. A young cutie whose ginger hair was obvious even in the scattered light who was receiving some advanced attention from another randy stud. This one was a genuine bum-boy. I'd never fucked a redhead and I wondered what was different about this young redheaded guy, and why what was happening to him aroused such instant excitement in me.
I felt my cock in my jeans which I unzipped, reached in through the fly and into my briefs, my prick was about as hard as I'd ever felt it. I've got a pretty good cock too, stiff or flaccid, compared to some pricks I've seen. Some are marred with veins or circumcision-scar webbing that makes the cock seem more butchered than clipped, my cock is pretty uniform in size and shape. At a thickish, genuine seven inches, it's a fairly good size and shape. Rocket-like best describes my penis, especially when it's erect. It's a bit larger at its base than at its tip, but not much. My blond-haired balls droop from my cockroot in their swaying pouch. My cockshaft is round, golden in colour, and doesn't show even one blue vein. My cockhead is a beautiful blunt penetrator on the end of my dick.
I fisted as much of my erection as possible, pumping away at the sight of the young redhead getting his. I was hot, hotter than I usually am when observing someone else's pleasure, and I wondered if the young guy being fucked could really be the only reason why.
I learnt the redhead's name, because that's what the studly guy, now ramming his arse hard and fast, called him.
"I'm Fucking you, Billy!" And the young guy replied "Oh yes . . . fuck me, arse-bandit . . . . fuck me . . . . Ram your big cock up my bum, through my belly, and shove it right up to the base of my throat."
It wasn't just the extra stiffness of my cock that told me that Billy was somehow special. It was that little extra something in my gut, down deep in the pit of my belly. My nuts, rolling this way and that, oozing a unique pleasure that'd been hidden until now. Standing there, my own jeans and underpants pooled at my feet, watching Iain's cock pump Billy's funky arsehole, I tried to reason out what was so special about Billy, it had to be that his unique feature was his red hair,
"Fuck me, Iain! Ohhh . . . nnnng . . . Fuck me!" Billy encouraged.
Their fuck progressed to sloppy sounds. There was the smack, whack, smack, whack sounds of the fucker's crotch slamming against the other's bum, although those sounds were muted by Billy not having fully dropped his camouflage trousers to be fucked.
"Ye like that, Billy?" Iain asked. He bent into an even more pronounced hunch over Billy's rear end. His cock kept its constant pistoning in-and-out probing of Billy's arsehole. "Tell me how much you like it."
" . . . . really like it," Billy gasped.
I was amazed by how my dick became suddenly slippery in my rubbing palm, because I seemed to've almost cum without knowing it. But I realised that it was an excess of pre-cum. Then my pumping fingers milked the oozing from the body of my cock and spread it over my cockshaft, the slimy liquid decreased the friction between my dry fingers and my dry cock, but it provided a new kind of pleasure.
"Hey, I'm getting randier," I said to myself. Every so often, I saw an expanse of soft skin above Billy's bum and I could tell that Billy had a plump, firm, muscled arse above the half-masted baggy seat of his camouflage trousers.
"Oh, yes, stud, YES!" Billy gasped,
I grabbed a hearty handful of my balls, I gave a squeeze. Not too hard but hard enough to inject a bit of pain to my skyrocketing passion.
"Take it . . . take it . . . take it!" Iain grunted as he thrust and shagged and ground all the more into Billy's receptive body.
I thought that my legs were going to give out beneath me as I took a firmer hold of my cock, as if something so powerfully big and steely stiff could keep me firmly anchored where I stood. Pumping ... pumping. while I came, I kept right on pumping. This time, it was'nt preseminal juice webbing my fingers but real, bona-fide, thick and gooey, wet and warm, smelly spunk. My arse sphincter pursed and I knew that my bum dimpled as my sperm hurled from the pulsing slit. Out of my prick, pearly streamers were fired out. "Aaaaaaaaaagh" I grunted because my cock was hypersensitive from the ejaculation, but I couldn't make my fist stop beating ... beating ... beating
My dick was soaked with my jetted slime, my fingers were netted with the stuff. With a few quick flicks of my hand, I sent flying a wad of my sperm. I used a handkerchief to clean up most of the remainder, reckoning that the absorbent crotch of my cotton underwear would absorb whatever I missed.
By the time I had my underpants and jeans hoisted up and fastened, Iain had his cock stuffed back into his jeans, and Billy had hoisted his dropped underpants and camos, zipping up the fly of the latter. I thought about doing a quick disappearance, but this wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before and I just stood there. Billy and Iain exchanged words. I was still too puzzled by the mystery of my feelings to get much of what they were saying.
. . . . then I woke up, realising that my groin was wet. Wet and sticky with what had obviously been a mammoth ejaculation - and my mobile was ringing. How long had it been ringing? I shot over to the chart table, picked it up:
"Hello, Andy here."
"Hey Andy, I thought you must've gone ashore somehow," said Alistair.
"Sorry - I was just grabbing some kip after that night passage. How's it going?"
"Well," answered Alistair, "bit of a problem. One of the lads took a nasty fall, he's got a deep cut on his knee and he's sprained an ankle pretty badly. He's been seen by casualty at Portree hospital and they've released him. But there's no way he can continue with the exercise so I'm bringing him back to the yacht. Should be onshore in about an hour's time. Could you bring the boat in and collect him?"
"Sure, no worries. Do you wanna gimme another call just before you get here and I'll bring the boat ashore."
"Right, I'll do that, talk to you soon."
"Bye."
Hmm. Wonder which of the lads it is. Hope he's reasonable. Just the two of us on board. Still, if he's any good he can help me with a bit of maintenance while the others are away.
Half an hour later the phone rang again and I agreed to meet the guys at the jetty. I was waiting and a taxi drove up and disgorged Alistair and . . . I peered into the darkness . . . Benson, Billy Benson! Holy shit!!
"Andy? Ah there you are, good man," said Alistair. "Here's the victim, its Benson. I guess you know him, he helped you get the supper yesterday. He'll be OK on board, I've got some dressings from the hospital and he's been told what to do. He may need a bit of help but I'm sure the two of you'll cope."
"Yea, well I did a first aid course as part of my yachtmaster training. As long as nothing needs amputating I'm sure I can cope," I answered.
The two of them came down the path to the boat with Benson's arm over his shoulder to give him some support and together we manoeuvred the lad into the boat. Alistair went back to get the young soldier's backpack which he dumped into the boat.
"You got much pain?" I asked the lad.
"I'm OK," he replied in a tone of voice that implied that he had.
"Soon get you on board, into your bunk and weight of your leg," I said.
"Reckon you can manage to get on board by yourselves?" Alistair asked.
"No probs," I said, "we'll manage OK."
With that Alistair returned to the taxi and I fired up the outboard and we made our way back to the yacht. I put the rubber boat alongside:
"Hang on Billy," I said "I'll just go up and rig the boarding ladder. We usually only use it for old men but I guess it'll help now."
I rigged the steps and then got down into the boat again. Billy stood up and worked his way to the ladder. I steadied him and he climbed painfully up to the deck. Then together we hobbled across to the hatch and I helped him down the companion way into the boat. Billy flopped down on a seat, his face was white and filled with pain while I went back to retrieve his pack. My God it was heavy, I had quite a struggle to heft the bloomin' thing up to the deck.
"You poor sod, how did it happen?"
"We were climbing this narrow track and there were a lot of boulders along it. It was dark and I couldn't really see where I was going and my pack was heavy, I guess it overbalanced me and I fell off the track and down this steep slope."
"So what've you done to yourself?"
"I've twisted my ankle really badly - it's all swollen up and gone blue and I've got a deep gash on my knee, they had to put in some stitches. Plus I rolled down the slope and I'm covered in bruises. I'm sort of sore all over."
The young guy looked in a bad way. I thought there might still be some degree of shock.
"Tell you what," I said, "I'll brew us up a big mug of tea each - you take sugar?"
He nodded.
"Lots of sugar then and we'll get you turned in so's you can get a good long kip. OK?"
Billy nodded again.
I brewed the tea and gave him his mug. He took it gratefully and sat sipping the hot liquid. When he'd finished I said:
"OK, time for that sleep. Reckon it'll do you a world of good. You'll feel much better in the morning."
Billy stared at me:
"Thanks Skipper," he whispered. "I don't want to be a nuiscance . . . "
"You're OK, you're not a nuisance and anyway, I'm glad of a bit of company, it was going to get a bit boring while you lot are gallivanting all over the mountains. Now then, enough apologising and let's get you into bed."
Billy struggled painfully to his feet and started to undress. I watched with extreme interest.
He slowly unzipped his combat jacket, removed it and then bent down to unlace his heavy boot - the damaged foot only had on a sock. He eased the boot off and I could immediately smell his sweaty foot-odour. He unbuckled his belt, hung with yet more equipment, and slowly dropped his cammo trousers. I watched with even more interest. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off and stood in just a thin khaki vest and thin, khaki cotton boxers. His hot-sweet body smell filled the cabin and I had to turn to the galley so that I could adjust my throbbing hard-on.
"Where's your sleeping bag?" I enquired.
"It's in my pack" he answered.
"OK, you sit there, I'll sort it for you." I undid the straps holding the bag onto his pack, unrolled it and spread it out on the bunk.
"There you go," I said. "Now what else do you need? Do you want to have a wash before you turn in? I can give you a hand if you like."
"No, I don't think so. I just want to sleep. I just need to take a piss though . . ."
He gave me an embarrassed look and I realised that he was going to need some support to get to the heads.
"Here you go," I said as I helped him up and over to the head. I heard him piss, a long hard jetting, then he half turned and I helped him back across to his bunk.
Now I was as hard as a rock. Despite the powerful wet dream I'd so recently experienced the sight, sound and scent of this helpless young soldier was making me soooo very horny. But I was good, unbelievably good, I longed to feel him up, palm his buttocks, grope his cock, lean in and kiss his pain-filled face - but I did none of that. I was the perfect male nurse. Billy's struggle into his sleeping bag obviously gave him a lot of pain because a couple of times he gave a stifled groan. I went into the aft cabin, to the first aid kit, and grabbed a couple of pain-killers.
"Did they give you anything for the pain?" I asked him.
"No. They gave me some dressings and a spare crepe bandage but that was all."
"OK, here you go then and I handed him the pills and a cup of water. Billy swallowed the pills and looked up at me like a grateful puppy.
"Cheers, Skip - thanks."
Then I left him thinking to myself the sooner he managed to get some sleep the better. I went back to the chart table and began work on a passage up to Loch Torridon because that was the next place where Alistair had said they wanted to go ashore. I glanced over at Billy and saw that he was still awake, gazing at me. I thought it best not to say anything because, with a bit of luck the exertions and his accident would soon cause him to sleep. I went back to my planning and, sure enough, next time I glanced over at him, his eyes were closed and his cute young face was relaxed in sleep.
Shortly afterwards, moving as quietly as I could, I went over to my bunk, stripped off and turned in for, despite my earlier sleep, I was still quite tired and in just a few moments I, too, was fast asleep.
Sometime later I woke up and looked at my watch -- 7.30am. I got out of my bunk, shucked on my jeans and sweat-shirt and moved to the galley where I filled the kettle, lit the gas and got a couple of mugs ready for a brew. I looked over at Billy's bunk. He had heard me rattling around in the galley for his eyes were open and following me as I moved around.
"Hey lad, how did ya sleep?"
"Yea, great thanks. I had a really good sleep. I never heard a thing all night."
"Well that's good. Right, Doctor Andy now prescribes hot, sweet tea OK?"
"Yea, cheers. That would be great."
I carried the mugs over and handed one to Billy and stood by his bunk drinking the other one.
"How about you ankle and your knee," I enquired "does anything have to be done to them?"
"Yea, the Doctor said that the dressing on my knee had to be changed -- but don't worry, I'm sure I can do it myself." He said quickly.
There was no way that this fine specimen of manhood was going to get away with that. A close examination of ankle and knee meant a much closer look at other, more intimate portions of this very desirably young male.
"Let's have a look at it. It'll be much easier if I give you a hand. Where's the stuff they gave you at the hospital?"
Billy told me which one of the outside pockets on his pack held the stuff and I dragged it out.
"Right. Let's see." I said.
Billy slowly and reluctantly pushed down his sleeping bag while I stared at the gorgeous young body that was revealed. His thin khaki boxers as well as his camouflage T-shirt, were both so tight it was obvious that Billy had a chest and a groin to die for. As the cover came off his body my nose was filled with the hot, sweet, sweaty smell of this studly young male. To me it was not an unpleasant smell, quite the opposite, the muskiness of his recently woken body sent a surge of sexual excitement right through me exploding into my cock and setting my balls tingling with urgency.
"Now then what about your ankle," I enquired. "Let's have a look."
Billy rolled his sleeping bag right off and I saw that the crepe bandage had become loose. I removed it and looked at the swollen joint.
"Hmm. Very pretty, all the colours of the rainbow," I said. "Does it hurt?"
"Uhh, it's not bad. Throbs a bit," he answered. Yes, well his ankle wasn't the only thing that was throbbing, I thought.
I re-bandaged his ankle, "How's that? Not too tight I hope." Billy nodded, "Now for your knee."
Of course I had to bend right over Billy to get at the old dressing on his knee and you can be sure that my eyes were riveted to his crotch, searching feverishly for a glimpse of his soldier's privates. His underwear was funky and he must have realised it because his face blushed scarlet as I leant close to him.
"I guess I must stink a bit," he apologised, "I just didn't wash or change my clothes before I turned in . . . ."
". . . don't worry sport. It's not a problem." I said. Far from it, quite the opposite I thought to myself, the only problem is how I'm going to stop myself from stripping you naked and doing dirty, sweaty animal things to your cute young body.
"Let's see now. I'll just remove this old dressing and put a new one on. Here we are." And using the skills I had covered on the Captains' Medical course, I started to put a fresh dressing on the knee.
"Here, lift your leg up, I need to get this bandage round," I said.
Billy raised his leg up a bit and in doing so the fly of his boxers gaped wider . . . my eyes were drawn to the dark, secret gap . . . at that moment Billy's cock escaped from its hot, cotton prison. I was staring at his manhood. His cock mesmerized Me, it was uncircumcised with a lot of skin crimped tightly over the head, it gave off an aura of power as it swelled from a 4-inch tumescent penis to a 7-inch rod that throbbed before my eyes. His weapon was very pale- almost white- with prominent bluish veins. It looked like a piece of marble, hard and white and smooth, with an angry red head just peeking out of the white skin. Michael Angelo's David's famous tool but armed and ready.
I tore my eyes away from this intimacy and stared at Billy who had blushed a vivid scarlet. Slowly I moved my body up and over his prone form, resting my weight on my knees and elbows, my face level with his face, our eyes staring deeply into each other. Now that I was so close I found him even more attractive than what I'd been able to see of him at a distance. Now that I was so close my cock was doing a little dance and was rigid in my damp underwear. Now I could see that his flame-red hair was thick and lush, his eyebrows and eyelashes were a less distinct red but red enough to show that it was all for real. They were almost more blond and gave his face a kind of washed-out quality.
Suddenly he muttered thickly:
"What Skip? Why . . . I'm sorry . . . "
I didn't say a word, I just lowered my body gently down onto his, pressed my groin into his groin and slowly lowered my face down onto his face. I let my tongue slip from between my lips and oh so gently licked his red lips. I breathed gently, I licked again and sealed my lips to his. As our mouths met I felt Billy's groin thrust up into mine. His lips slid open and I felt his tongue emerge, felt its reciprocal teasing of my lips and then . . . and then . . . we were kissing passionately. My tongue penetrating deep into his mouth, his duelling and fighting its way into mine. As we kissed our bodies thrashed together. Deep, deep moans emanated from Billy. Sighs of pleasure from me. Obviously this was the culmination of hours of longing, two days of surreptitious peeping, longing, lusting.
I buried my face into Billy's neck, smelling and licking his salty sweating skin. Billy's mouth was free now:
"Oh Andy . . . Oh Andy . . . I so wanted you . . . I'm so inexperienced . . . help me . . . be kind"
I was totally crazed by the sight, sound and smell of this eager and aroused young man. I slid my face down his body, over the cotton T-shirt, nibbling at his pert little nipples through the material. Then I got the erect nub between my teeth and nipped it. Billy grunted and I felt his hot, hard penis give an involuntary jump. I slid one hand down, between our grinding groins.
"Seems there's another bad swelling down here, Billy. We'll have to give it some serious attention," I muttered. Billy's legs spread apart, trustfully giving me completely free access to his masculinity. I gripped the waistband of his boxers and started to ease them down over his hips. Billy wriggled to one side and then the other, the thin cotton boxers slid lower, revealing a thick, ginger bush and dragging the rigid rod downwards.
"Let's get this dressing off. I think a bit of massage may help," I whispered.
I looked back up at Billy's face. His eyes were glazed over in sexual lust, he was in a sex-induced trance. This young soldier boy was mine, mine to pleasure and gain pleasure from. Nothing I could do would shock him. I shoved my face deep in between his chunky thighs, breathing in his funk, feeling the heat from his crotch, sensing the damp sweat from his cock and balls. I rubbed my face around and then, as I had gently started to lick the young soldier's lips, I slowly and very gently began to lick his steel-hard penis. Just little, light licks slowly along the shaft. I felt his cock lurch under my face. I tapped my tongue onto the velvet skin. Little sharp taps, up and down. Up, up along its steely length. His foreskin had long since unsheathed the bulbous head and now it was the head's turn to be assaulted. I let my tongue dance and tap its way around the urgent knob, tickling the small valley between head and shaft. Billy was panting now, his head rolling from side to side, deep, imperative groans filled the cabin.
Finally, at last, I locked my lips over the frantic head, slid my mouth up and. . . I suctioned my way down that frantic shaft until my nose was buried in the thick, ginger, pubic bush. Slowly, slowly I withdrew, my lips forming a perfect seal along the thick, ivory-white shaft. My tongue swirled around the bulbous head, then down and down and down, engulfing his love-stick. Billy gasped, his balls shrivelled upwards, the ball sac rough and wrinkled, his young body spas med, hips thrusting, quivering . I released his cock just as the thickest, most massive bolt of cum I'd ever imagined jetted out of his cock, jetted feet into the air and splattered down on his flat stomach. His cock jerked, out jolted a second, a third and a fourth spurt of spunk, each one propelled almost as far as the first. Billy moaned, a despairing moan of exquisite pleasure/pain as he lost control of his love-juices.
Billy's orgasm was an incredible climax, the spunk that jetted forth seemed like a six week's supply and the sight of the glorious red-headed soldier in his most private moment was too much for me.
Fuck! Fucking Hell!! Hold ON!! But it's no good, I can't. The dam just had to burst N O W ! Furiously fisting my cock so that my hand was just a blur, I, too, climaxed, my sperm jetted forth and joined the sticky lake of semen pooled on Billy's stomach. Fuck! Fuck!! I didn't want to come so soon. There were other even more secret , ginger-haired places that I needed to explore, to sniff, lick and suck.
I flopped down, sated, satisfied still mounted on Billy's sweating body. Our faces came together and we kissed, deeply, wonderfully, both so happy to have shared such a powerful love-moment. I guess that we both then slept for a while in a post- orgasmic stupor.
I soon woke up again, just for an instant I was uncertain of where I was and what I had just done - until my nose reminded me. Billy smelt of male sweat and spent sex, the musky aroma clung to his camouflage T-shirt; to his worn camouflage underwear; to his flat sticky stomach; to both of the dog tags dangling from his firm young neck. Or it could be that it was partly my rutting smells emanating from each and every pore of my body. Or, maybe, it was our oozed cum, seeped out as our cocks shrivelled that was going stale on the sleeping bag or in the crotch of my underpants.
I went aft and started the engine which would charge up the yacht's batteries and at the same time generate hot water, we were going to need a lot of hot water.
"Come on, lover, we both need to do something radical about our disgusting bodies and you're going to need some help."
Billy grinned trustingly at me and sat up, gingerly placing his damaged leg onto the deck. I grabbed his hand and helped him up to his feet. He then stripped off his funky T-shirt and boxers while I stood back admiring his tough young soldier-body. I helped Billy to shuffle into the tiny shower stall thinking what a shame it was that there was only room for one hunky male body at a time.
We spent most of the morning cleaning up ourselves, Billy's kit and the boat. I was worried that after our frantic session, Billy would be embarrassed but I needn't have worried, he followed me around like a devoted puppy, eager to help with everything.
"What's your decision, stud? Because, I'm yours to command, now and later, just for a bed for the evening."
Oh Yes! I really fancied this muscled young red-headed soldier. His gorgeous body, covered by the thin, worn camouflage fatigues. His body smell alone was a fantastic turn-on. Come to think of it, I'd always heard that red-heads had a particularly sexy smell to them and this guy, after his recent rutting with Iain, was certainly no exception.
I took Billy back to my hotel after a short detour to the bus terminal to pick up his kit- bag, s a scruffy and battered kit-bag with his stencilled name and serial number.
It was difficult to believe, but my dick was still hard. Between the park and my hotel, my quick- recovering cock had regained all the stiffness it had lost after blast-off watching Billy's arsehole being royally reamed. I knew just where and when resurrection occurred. Billy was tugging his kit-bag out of the bus terminal locker and he brushed against me. A mere touch of his camouflage cotton against my blue denim, and it might as well have been fast-setting cement injected into my penis. I had a full and raging boner before we left the building.
Almost as soon as we were safely inside the hotel room Billy said:
"How about I give that monster a bit more manly attention?" and pushed his hands between the waist band of my jeans and my stomach. People have told me that I've got magic fingers."
I sucked in my stomach to give him more room for manhandling my dick and nuts.
"Mmmmmmm, good!" he said against the back of my neck. "At least one of us is having a good time. What a perfect arse. What a perfect body. What a perfect cock." He gave a squeeze of the latter. "What perfect, horse-size nuts." He mistook my moan of discomfort, caused by yet another of his forceful squeezes of my gonads, for pleasure because he said, "See, didn't I tell you I'd get your cock primed in no time?
"Want me to rub harder and faster?" he asked. "I can go harder and faster . . . . . Oh, stud . . . oh, stud . . . . oh handsome . . . handsome stud," he mumbled.
As he clung closer to my body I breathed in his studly scent. Now some guys get turned on by dirty underwear and by funky body odour. Despite how hard I try to convince myself I'm not one of those guys, I can't break the habit. I'm turned on by my own body odour when it's particularly ripe. That I should like something so personal about me, it makes sense that I turned on by the same thing in someone else.
I gaze at his camouflage T-shirt and his camouflage trousers. and I can tell that it is some time since they have been washed. His camouflage T-shirt, his camouflage trousers, his military-issue boxer shorts and boots and belt, his kit-bag, all a fantastic sexual turn-on.
I look to see if they're made of something besides regular cotton. They're not. I rub them against my cheek and simultaneously adjust the lie of my cock in the crotch of my trousers. Meanwhile Billy has gone into the bathroom and I hear a loud cascade of water as he takes a huge piss. Satisfied he came back into the bedroom and flopped down onto the bed.
"You wanna drink?" I enquired. "I've got a bottle of whiskey in my back-pack."
"Great man" he replied. So I went into the bathroom and grabbed the two glasses by the basin, poured out a couple of generous tots and returned, handing one to Billy. To my surprise he downed his in one. Tough-guy huh?
I turned on the TV and hunted around the channels. There was a semi-sexy film on Channel 5. I poured the thirsty Billy another hearty slug of Scotch and gazed at his sexy soldier body. He'd slumped back on the bed, bum on the edge, legs sprawled out and slightly apart, showing off his groin in a highly provocative way.
But - Hey - I've got a problem here. My sexy soldier-boy must've been far more drunk than I'd realised because after the two slugs of whiskey he'd just downed, he seemed to've passed out. His eyes were closed, his face was flushed and he'd started to breath deeply with a slight snore.
Well, hey, what now. Here was I well sexed up and there was he away with the fairies!
Now I had the urge to see his cock close up. To smell and taste his soldierly equipment
I still had a massive erection and squeezed it slowly and felt a gob of pre-cum ooze out, excited just to be thinking out the initial stages of my fantasy: I wanted to pull down his trousers, expose his underpants, just do as I liked with this submissive, red- headed private soldier.
I moved over to the bed, squatted at the edge and rubbed my hand over the soft cotton of his thin camouflaged uniform. It was warm and soft. He sighed and wriggled into a more comfortable position. Slowly and firmly I fingered the zipper on his trousers and eased it downwards exposing the green material of his army-issue underwear. Then I placed my face about a foot from his underpants. Just gazing at his cotton covered crotch and wondering how strongly it would look and smell and taste, I became so hot that I had to jack off furiously. But after a few swift strokes I stopped, this situation was too good to waste.
I continued with my exploration becoming a bit more bold. Now I put my head close enough to actually get a scent of his penis, then I sat on the edge of his bed while I just stared at his covered groin, and eventually I put my hand on his underpants. My next advance was to get my face right up close to his private parts, my nose almost touching the soft, war pouch. I breathed in, wonderful all-male scents, so private and so very sexy. It was all I could do to stop myself plunging down onto that jewel-sack, frantically rubbing my nostrils over the heavenly smelling soft cotton.
Then I worked up to putting my hand on his underpants, I had an irresistible urge to see his cock, whether he woke up or not, I just had to see his cock kneeling next to the bed, slowly placing my hands on his underpants near his crotch I gingerly pulled back the crotch and looked at his naked cock. I felt as if I had entered a new dimension. My cock was just bulging, aching to be stroked. It was a little awkward for me to twist around and put a hand on my cock, so I just drank up the experience.
He didn't seem to stir, I used my thumb and forefinger to lift up his cock clear of the plump young testicles, lying moistly between his sturdy thighs. Now I had the exquisite sight of his young cock. Now my fumbling fingers were feeling for his cock, needing so badly to touch it. As soon as my hand got next to his cock I slowed my movements and just let my hand rest on his cock. But now Billy stirred, he rolled over so that he ended up on his side, with his bum toward the door. I didn't quite know what to do, to try to turn him over or what, so I just sat quietly on the edge of his bed for a few minutes. Finally, I decided to try to sneak a look from this angle and I gently place my hand on the bottom of his shirt, slowly pulling it up over his arse cheeks. As I did this, while still lying on his side, he separated his thighs and raised his top knee so that his bum and his cock were in full view.
Proceeding very quietly, but shaking with sexual excitement, I put my face close to his cotton covered bum. This was disgusting, I felt like a randy dog, but Oh it was So Very Sexy. A most gorgeous lustful smell arose from his thin cotton underwear, covering his private parts. A man's bum, his most intimate place. And it smelt glorious.
What the hell. This private soldier was totally under my power. I reached for the waistband of the thin green underpants and pulled them down to his ankles. I unlaced his heavy army boots and eased them off his hot, sweaty feet. Off came his green wool socks and then the underpants were dragged over his feet and free from his sweaty body. I snatched them up and held them to my nose. Soft, sexy cotton, and scented. Eagerly I sniffed, deeply into the pouch. The soft cradling for this stud's genitals. What a sexual thrill. Male genital sweat and a combination of other wonderful odours. I glanced into his underwear, nearly clean but just slightly soiled. I buried my eager nose into the seat, smelt where his bum had pressed onto the cloth.
What a heady smell, my cock stiffened even more. If I had died at that moment, I would have died a fulfilled man.
Sitting now on the bed, I stared down at his beautiful arse and cock. Until that time, I hadn't realised how wonderfully beautiful a male's arse could be. he had a deep tan across his back and upper thighs, but very soft white arse cheeks, with clear tan lines. I placed my right hand on my cock and began to squeeze gently, and then began some soft stroking motions. Instinctively, I placed my left hand on his top arse cheek and began slow circular strokes. I did this for a few minutes and then knew I had to have him.
I bent over Billy's recumbent body and held my head over his crotch, the scents made me dizzy. Tentatively I put out my tongue and licked at his cock. Salty, sweaty and oh so manly. It slowly started to swell. It began to grow and to rise up out of the thick, ginger groin-scented hair. Soon it was rampant and glowing. I began sucking him in earnest. I had him right on the edge when I rolled him over and plunged my face into his ginger-haired crack. He didn't seem to mind a bit. Jacking off while I sniffed and licked his arse.
'Oh, do it to me,' he finally said, and I took that as my invitation.
Holding my anxious throbber, I aimed it at the tiny pink hole, cramming my cockhead in.
"'0w! It hurts."'
'Relax my private soldier, I'll go slow.'
I crammed more cock in what I was sure was a fairly new to be being fucked bum.
'So big. don't know if I can take it.'
'Sure you can, sailor.'
I felt his arsehole expand. I stayed still.
He moved around a bit.
I began to slowly screw him.
'Yeah, fuck me!' he was soon begging.
Sitting back on my heels, I watched my bloated cock plunge in and out of the secret hole like a piston.
He bucked back.
Lying prone, braced on my elbows and knees, I pumped my prick in his arse.
'Oh fuck, it's so hard'
I rammed his arsehole. But I was too excited by getting to fuck him that I couldn't hold back. Plunging in all the way, I blasted spurts of hot, sticky semen deep into his arseguts. Staying still, I clutched his sweaty body until my cock plopped out. I noticed that he still had a big boner from being fucked and as I was anxious to taste his dick. Scooting down, I held his long, fat, uncut cock that any man would be proud of. I swabbed my tongue across the bloated crown and tasted the sticky goo. I opened my mouth and swallowed his cock down !o the root, the ginger bush.
Harry turned around into a sixty-nine position. I kept his hot stiffer in my mouth. Grabbing my pecker, he licked the bloated prick and did a butterfly flick on the shaft.
Looking down at him engulfing my cock in his mouth and feeling his tongue and wet orifice on my manhood made my balls ascend to tee base of my cock. Urgently we deep-throated each other's cock in a steady cocksucking rhythm, eyeballing each other while we sucked cock in earnest. I was already at the edge. This was heaven, sucking a gorgeous soldier boy who sucked you back. just as I was ready to pop my nuts I felt a trickle of sweet creamy jizz in my mouth, then wad after wad. Suddenly I let go with my own climax, gushing my load into Billy's mouth.
By now he was panting and sweating but as I gazed at his handsome young soldier's face, he passed out again and this time, by the deep snores, I knew that he would sleep the sleep of the well fucked.
In the morning Billy was in a hurry to get away. It seemed that his barracks were well to the North of Glasgow and he had quite a way to travel. When I asked him about his Unit he was evasive so, sensing that it might be something Special, I did not press the matter. As he was leaving he leant forward and gave me a tongue-duelling kiss and I pressed his flesh one more time - for luck.
Later that morning, I paid the hotel bill and set off back for the yacht. My mind was full of thoughts of Billy and the fantastic sex we'd had. I was sad that we were very unlikely ever to meet again . . . . .