Golden Cockerel 4
By Bald Hairy Man e mail bldhrymn@aol.com or at Bldhrymn@excite.com If you have any comments, please send them to me at bldhrymn@aol.com
This is a fantasy, for men, not kids, not for anyone who got to this site by accident, not expecting to find gay stories. No effort at realistic or safe sexual practices has been made.
We were talking when the menagerie returned to the boat. The menagerie was made up of our oldest crew members, Wolf, Otter, Badger and Fox. Raleigh gave them the name and they liked it. They didn't use their given names, but had been with the Golden Cockerel for years. Crude, but good men, they had a new man with them, a bald, bearded, ball of a man.
"Captain! We found a new crew member!"Wolf cried. "We call him Butter Ball! He's a sail maker and tailor." I would normally be offended if the crew tried to take on a new member without my permission in advance, but we were in desperate need of a man who could sew. The crew knew this and had made a selection.
"He looks like he could eat us out of our stores before we clear the harbor!" I said.
"Don't you worry Captain. I know my station, and in a pinch I can live off my fat." Butter Ball said with the voice of an educated man. "I can pull my own weight, and as you can see there is a lot of weight to pull."
"I can vouch for that Captain." Fox said. "We fucked him solid for five days and he ate nothing but man seed and his stomach didn't even growl. Never tired, never complained. He's a wonder sir."
"You flatter me!" Butter Ball said. "I just like to help my fellow man."
"And what is your real name?" I asked.
"I can't rightly remember, but I think some distance between myself and the shore might refresh my memory." He said. He was a clever man. If I took offence to his unwillingness to give his name, he made it clear that he would do what he had to do.
"And do you have other skills than as a sailmaker and cum bucket?" I asked.
"I am not the kind of man to limit his usefulness. I can do what I am told, and I can do what I am told well." He said. "I take instruction."
"Well get below with the crew and let's get this ship ready for the sea." I said. The men went below. By that afternoon Butter Ball was at work repairing the sails. I immediately could tell that he knew his trade well. His workmanship was superb, regular and orderly with no weak spots in the stitching that could fail in a high wind. He was fast too, getting to work with dispatch.
"Strange, that man speaks like an educated man, but works like a laborer." John whispered to me. "There is more to him than meets the eye."
"He bears watching." I replied. "The Menagerie is made up of simple men but none are fools. Not gullible at all. I'll watch him but not loose any sleep over it." The remainder of the crew arrived later that day and we had our full compliment.
The next few days were crowded with preparations. Even though much of the crew had been busy while we had been in port, there still was a huge amount of work to be done. Tom's food storage efforts were monumental. He had complicated theories about how to preserve food on a long voyage that required a great amount of work. The crew always complained, but damn little food went bad or rotted, so they were resigned to the work.
We had one more unexpected man join the crew. Will, the erstwhile playwright from London, appeared. It seemed that he had made some promises he couldn't keep. He had been paid in advance and failed to deliver. I knew nothing about the theater, but it didn't seem as if that were so unusual and occurrence, but it seemed as if he had wagered his advance in a game of chance and had lost. Two years at sea with a good chance of death was better than a week on land with a certainty of a painful end.
I though that Will might be interesting company, but interesting company was not enough to justify another mouth to feed on the ship. Another row boat approached the Golden Cockerel. It was carrying a message from our cabin boy. His mother was sick and near death and he had to return home. That left a spot for Will. It was a menial position, but desperation makes men accommodating. Will joined the crew.
Mac was sure that the wind would be favorable for our departure the next morning. I never understood how he knew this, but he was right more often than wrong, so we rushed to be ready. Tom made a hearty dinner and we all went to sleep early. Just before dawn the entire ship groaned as the wind changed direction. Mac roused the crew. We set off with a good wind propelling us into the Atlantic.
It is always exciting to be sailing free from the constraints of the land. On land you walk on streets and lanes between fences, buildings and hedges. There are no streets in the sea. And no one other than your fellow crew members to watch your activities or pass judgement on you. Some think that the sea is a lawless place, but they are fools. The sea follows its own rules, more strict than any on land.
For the first days of the voyage all was uneasy. No one had settled into the orderly routine of the sea. The old hands feel back into old patterns but the new men had troubles. Butter Ball had the worst case of seasickness I had ever witnessed. The crew found this immensely amusing and the subject of great merriment. Every time the poor man seemed as if he might come out of it they would find a way to discomfort him again.
The playwright was sick for a day and came out of it an old hand. He must have been an actor too, since he immediately adopted the mannerisms of the sailors. If you heard him without seeing him, you would assume he was born on the waves. As the cabin boy he was quartered with the scum of the ship. Pistol and Nim could do what they were told, but little else. They affected a fantastical way of speaking that Will seemed to find interesting.
John wasn't affected by the rolling of the ship at all. He was a suspicious character to some of the crew, who knew his appearance here wasn't part of a normal voyage, but he won them over with feats of strength and daring. When Pistol lost control while hoisting a sail, John grabbed the rope and held it and the entire sail and a yard arm until the crew could get control again. He was a big, strong man. Everyone understood that.
Five days of constant attacks of puking and the runs were wearing Butter Ball out, and the crew finally relented. He had shit and puked gallons, but he was just as fat as before. On the seventh day he emerged on deck.
"And on the Seventh day God rested!" John proclaimed. The crew roared with laughter. In Butter Ball's defense, he took it all in good humor and didn't take offence. "And God separated the shit from the flesh and he called it Butter Ball!"
"Are you sure that's in the Bible sir?" Wolf asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"Maybe I remembered it wrong." John said laughing. "I need to go to the cabin and read that verse again!"
"I would guess that God added shit to flesh and made Butter Ball." Will said. "I think you remembered it backwards!" Butter Ball seemed to like the attention. Not being sick for the first time in a week must have been a treat for him. No amount of vulgar talk could change that.
Wolf came close to John. "You have a Bible?" He asked.
"Yes. It's in the cabin." John said.
"I've never seen a Bible." Wolf said.
"Come by my cabin after my watch and I will show it to you." John said.
"You can read it? In Latin?" Wolf asked.
"Yes. But it's been Englished." John said. "It's written in English." Wolf said he would come, and returned to his work.
"What was that about?" John asked. I told him that Wolf was a simple man from a humble background. He had never seen a printed book. My hand written journals were as close to a book as he had come.
"I know nothing about his family or his religion. He may think the Bible is magic or maybe he has just heard about it. He can do numbers, and knows the letters, but I don't think he can do any more than that."
That night Wolf and Otter came to the cabin John and I shared and knocked. John let them in. They were very nervous.
"You said I could see the Bible?" Wolf asked. "Otter, here wanted to see it too, if it's not inconveniencing you?"
"Not at all." John said. "Come in." John went to his chest, opened it and removed a leather bound satchel. He undid the ribbon and exposed the book. He sat it on the table and opened it. I came over to look. Mac and I had been the only men on the ship who could read. I had never seen a Bible close up. Never in English.
John explained it to them, showed them the pages of densely packed type. He took them to the first page. "In the beginning God . . ." He explained how the letters made words. Wolf was awestruck. I think he thought of it as magic.
After a while he thanked John for letting him see it. "The ship will be safer for it. It's good to have it here." He said as he left. John wrapped it up again and put it back in the chest.
"You must be a marvel to the crew." I said. "First you save the sail and then you produce a Bible."
"Robin, I may have saved the sail, but I came damn close to ripping myself in two. I've never been so sore in my life." John said. Mac came in the room. He felt John's shoulders and chest and said he didn't have anything dislocated, but he thought he might have broken a bone in his hand. I looked at the hand and saw that it was swollen and purple. Mac bound it up the hand. He and John were talking and I was in my bed and fell asleep. I woke at dawn and found them sleeping together. I had thought that they would become friends.
After the second week of the voyage we could all relax. You never ever completely relax at sea, you can be undone at any moment, but the patterns of work and life were all set. Every man knew his duty, and what to expect. Even for men who knew the sea, the first weeks of a voyage were exhausting. We had been in port for six months and most of the men did little work, so they were out of shape. No one sleeps sounder than a sailor of the first weeks of a voyage.
As we headed south, it became warmer and the men began to experience something other than the unending chill and damp of England. The heat is a problem on many voyages, when the men sicken from the temperature. I remember the ordeal it on one of my first voyages when the soldiers on the ship, clad in wool and armor, began dropping like flies. I made my men strip and wear as few clothes as possible. We doffed jackets, then vests, then shirts and eventually many men dressed in loincloths. The officers followed suit.
This had been the downfall of many voyages. While the ordinary sailors could be all but naked, the officers had to remained dressed in their heavy uniforms. What was perfect for fighting in Ireland or the Netherlands was a death sentence in the tropic. Mac never felt that rank made you less susceptible to the danger of the heat.
With the return of warmth and the near naked crew on our small ship, lust made a return. The brisk wind gave way to a gentle breeze, and the pace on the ship became almost leisurely. There wasn't much for me to do but hold to course and calculate our location several times a day. Later in the voyage there would be repairs to keep the men busy, but now there was nothing to do. No one hated idleness more than Mac and he set to work.
The warm weather had its effect on the smell of the men. Cool weather and a brisk wind hid the problem. Tom and Mac decided that it was time for bathing and laundry. They striped the men and sent the men swimming and washed their clothes. We launched a small boat to sea, and kept the men in the warm water for an hour. Salt water could wear off the most embedded grime.
We did this in three groups, each with some old hands and some of the new men. We kept a strict watch so that most of the crew was ready should a Spanish or French ship appear. I took the first group, Mac the second and Tom the third. Wolf, Cedric, Hugh, Will and Pistol were with me along with three new men, Bob, Peter and Paul.
Wolf was more wolf like naked than dressed. He was thin, tall and straggly, covered in black hair mixed with grey. He was all muscle, no fat, and his ice-cold grey eyes were always alert. His balls hung low and his cock was long and thin. His foreskin hung was long and the outline of his cock head could be seen halfway up the sausage tube. He was perpetually suspicious and fiercely loyal.
Pistol was short, stocky with mouse-colored hair on his head and chest. He neither shaved nor had a beard, he just looked ratty. His cock was a shock. He could have been named musket rather than pistol. It hung halfway to his knees and was as thick as it was long. He was dumb but a good worker if watched over. He was easily influenced by charlatans and fools, so Mac kept a hawk eye on him. He was also game for any sexual game anyone could devise.
Hugh was a good looking young man with a good cock. He was blond and with only a light covering of down on his torso. He too was dumb, but his attachment to Cedric was rock solid, and was safe as long as he was near.
Peter and Paul were in their late teens or early twenties. They didn't seem to know the exact time of their births and they were boyhood friends. A blind man could look at them and tell they were bothers, but they didn't seem to know. They were new to the sea, but had no fear of heights at all. They loved the spindly ropes of the ship and the tenuous web of rope that held the ship together.
They were middle height, wiry, Peter had black hair, Paul brown, with a dusting of hair on their chests and a line of hair to their thick bushes. I guessed that Peter was a year or two older than Paul. They looked half grown, but their cocks were full size. Mac had found them in a tavern, trying to get some food. They were closed mouthed, but the blood stains of whip marks on Paul's shirt told Mac all he needed to know.
He fed them, then took a room. There were four other men in the room so you couldn't play with them. Mac did that three days later. They were like rabbits he said. Insatiable, and willing. He didn't think that they had ever had sex with a grown man before, but there was nothing that they didn't like, or weren't willing to learn to like. Mac guessed they were runaway indentured servants or apprentices. He brought them back to the ship, as possible cabin boys and discovered their love of heights. They became sailors.
Bob was another new man. He would have been bear like, with thick black hair, but he was of a medium build. He had a matching cock. He was recruited by Ben to work with the cannon and arms. He had been a soldier. The new men were uneasy about being naked, but with the captain bare arsed before them they had no choice. They all knew about the ship and out habits, but years ago I found that most didn't believe it. Will didn't know, but my run in with him at Marlowe's room made it clear he was game.
The water was cool but not cold and the swim was refreshing. The water did strange things to the men. Peter, Paul and Hugh emerged from the water pick and rosy, the picture of English health. Cedric and Bob looked the same as before the swim. Their thick hair coat covered the skin. Wolf and Pistol looked human as they emerged from the water. Dirty, Pistol looked like a victim of the plague. Cleaned up, he looked like a cock with a small man attached. Not a pretty sight, but an interesting one. Wolf was less menacing. He almost never smiled, but invigorated by the cool water, he was more human and less animal.
John was in the boat and he pulled half of us into it while the others stayed in the water. The sun was hot and warned me up quickly. The boat was small so everyone had a chance to look at the meat. I had almost forgotten how big Pistol was.
"Is that bitch poker of yours real?" Will asked as he stared at Pistol. "I can't believe I've been sleeping next to that for two week and never guessed!"
Everyone laughed. "If you don't believe it's real, have a feel!" Pistol said. "It gets bigger when I am ready to shoot!" Will grabbed it and pulled to skin back to expose the pink head.
"Why in Hell did God give you that piece of meat!" Will exclaimed. He stroked the cock several times and Pistol oozed some cock honey. "If Essex or Dudley had that cock we'd have no more virgin queen, and Our Dainty Bess would be the mother of twelve!" Will turned around and saw John's donkey dong. "Damn, there's another one! I feel like I am in the land of the giants! Which is bigger?"
"We'll do the measuring later on Will." I said. "We are a happy and playful ship, you'll know a lot more about cock by the time we get back to port." After a while we traded places and I got back in the water. I swam back to the Golden Cockerel, but the others stayed in the water longer.
Mac yelled that the second group was ready, so everyone returned. No one got dressed since the laundry was still wet, so we all sat naked in the sun on the decks. The warm sum relaxed our cocks and by the time the third group left, we were all relaxed and feeling good. The wind had dropped more and the ship was all but still.
Mac and his group joined us naked on the deck. He stood with Cedric, Ben and John. They were our four bears. Mac had white hair; Cedric, ginger; Ben, black and John, brown. Mack was the shortest and was muscular and solid. Cedric had a gut that shaded his compact plum sized balls and cock head. The cock head was large and held the skin open so you could see his piss slit. Ben had a huge broad chest and narrow waist and thick meat that all but hid his balls. We all served as the officers on the informally organized ship. Will was manly, but almost looked effeminate with his slight frame as he associated with the big men.
The menagerie was the informal leader of the crew. They were all thin, muscular men. Otter was the smallest, with a close cropped, brown beard. The hair covered him from his feet to his balding head with no break between this beard and torso hair. Fox was tall and thin with a droopy mustache and an even coat of red hair on his chest. Badger was about Otter's height but more muscular and had dirty blond hair. All of them had low hanging balls and long cocks.
Tom, the cock, was also the ship's doctor and had Old Tom and an apprentice, Kit, to help him in the kitchen. Old Tom was elderly but spry, had been a strong man until he lost his leg. He had been at sea for his entire life and liked to help the younger men. He had a horse dick that still worked at his advanced age. Old Tom liked young men and helped them out.
I knew the rest of the sailors, Angus, Joe, Davie and Ed, but my association was generally through the bears or Menagerie. There were two other new men both were young, Sean and Richard, who I had only seen on deck, but they kept their mouths shut. All were good men except for the trouble makers, Nim, Pistol and Swallow. I added Butter Ball to this group until I got to know him better. Pistol was redeemed by his big cock. Nothing made Nim and Swallow anything but poor excuses for men. They weren't evil, just stupid.
I had tried to get rid of them, excepting Pistol, but both Mac and Old Tom said we needed them. "You know, Robin." Mac said. "We aren't dealing with members of the Queen's court here. You need some scum to make the ordinary men feel better about themselves. There is always someone at the bottom of the barrels. Without them, Hugh, Angus or Davie would be nothing. They are ordinary, but good men. Especially when compared to Nim's group."
The minute I saw Butter Ball emerge naked from the water, I knew that sunburn would be a problem as big as the seasickness. There might have been some muscle inside the fat body, but it was well hidden, as was most of his cock. Tom had covered part of the deck with a tarp the provided shade and I told Butterball to get under it.
From my position near the wheel, I could hear the men talking under the sun shade, but not see them.
"Butter Ball, we brought you here to be our scum bucket, but you've been so sick, we couldn't get our cock in without being beshited." I heard Wolf say. "We didn't save your sorry ass so you could sew yourself to the new world."
"I have been delivered from my affliction, and now am ready to serve!" Butterball said. " I seem to have this deep emptiness that needs filling." He had a pompous way of speaking. "And who has the honor of being first?"
"A memorably pretentious way to say you want to have the crew fuck you, isn't it?" John, who was next to me whispered. "You would think that he was Walsingham allowing an ambassador to see the Queen rather than a fat man offering to be screwed."
"Shall it be age before beauty?" Butterball asked.
"I like my cock in younger asses, if you please!" Old Tom said. "I screw when I'm ready and fell like it, not when a lard ball commands." There was a giggle coming from next to Old Tom's voice, and I guessed he had Kit under his wing. There was a lot of laughing and ribaldry among the men. It has always seemed wondrous to me that simple men, who couldn't even write their names could be so imaginative when obscenity is the game.
"I've never screwed a man before." Paul said. "Do the new men get to join in the play?"
Butter Ball started to say something, but Wolf cut him off. "A good question and politely asked." Wolf said. "We brought Butter Ball here for general usage, not just for personal whims. He has an ass for all seasons, a hole for all stations. When we're naked, we're all just men." John and I went down to the main deck to watch the festivities.
When wolf saw me he asked if I wanted to be the first. I told them to let Paul lead the charge. They had Butter Ball on his back with his legs wide open and pink rosebud on display. He seemed completely unconcerned, and was talking as if he were going to meet the Lord Mayor of London. There was no Lord Mayor on the horizon, but Paul was rock hard and ready. Butterball glanced at him.
"Men, grease him up some! He's too big to take dry!" Butter Ball said. He then returned to his pretentious drivel. Badger looked at me, I nodded and he swallowed Paul's cock whole. Badger was a good cock sucker and liked coating cock before a fuck. Otter came over to me, dropped to his knees and began sucking. He included John in his efforts. Everyone joined in.
Otter got Paul ready and he quickly positioned himself at Butter Ball's ass. He shoved it in one thrust. Butter Ball moaned and wiggled his ass a bit. Paul pulled out, exposing his big cock head and then shoved it in again. Paul's cock was longer than I had thought, thin, but with a broad cock head. He may not have screwed a man before, but he was a fast learner.
He seemed a bit too careful at first, but as I watched as he caught on fire and began thrusting faster and faster. Paul was a born fucker, and soon had figured out the best way to milk Butter Ball's ass for his own pleasure. As Wolf had said, Butter Ball took it well, no complaints and his cock was erect and drooling the whole time.
I was so busy watching them I almost forgot my own meat. Badger's tongue was licking the tender connection between my shin and cockhead and got me to the edge of shooting. It twitched but I pushed him off and didn't cum.
Paul filled Butter Ball and Fox took his place. With the cum already in his ass, the fat man didn't need any more grease. Fox wasted no time adding his seed.
"I've been saving for a fortnight!" He said. Fox always thrust and moaned each time he squirted, so you could follow his orgasm. It must have been a huge load. Fox and Paul were both long and thin Butter Ball hardly noticed their cocks as they screwed him. Will recruited Pistol to be the next man in line.
Butter Ball had missed seeing Pistol naked and when he appeared hard and ready, Butter Ball's bugged open and he looked worried. Shocked.
"Ready for the real fucking?" Wolf asked. "It's time for a big cock to meet big talk." Pistol was proud of his cock, and enjoyed the stir it caused. It was so big that he rarely got a chance to fuck. Most men didn't want his ass splitter in their hole. I never allowed rape. There are enough willing men, so Pistol had to convince guys to take it.
Butter Ball needed no encouragement. He launched into a series of flowery complaints, but made no effort to close his hole. I knew he was a true bottom man. Will offered to help Pistol carry his cock to the ass whole. "I don't want you to loose your balance!" Will said. "You might tip over!" Indeed, Pistol looked as if he might fall forward with the disproportionate size of the cock. Will stroked Pistol's meat, pulling the skin back so that most of the bloated head was visible.
His cock honey made the head shiny and red, and it showed up well. His piss slit was a broad gash, almost cutting the head in two. Will nuzzled it in Butterball's hole. Pistol rammed it in. It was like watching a sword swallower at a country fair. I almost expected to see Pistol's cock head pop out of Butter Ball's mouth. He was speechless, wiggling and moaning. Butter Ball was openly uncomfortable. It wasn't pain, just too much cock. He lost all of his pretensions and affectations as Pistol rammed him.
"Let me go! I can't take it any more!" Butter Ball croaked. He couldn't get a good breath of air. "I'm dying!" Pistol was in no mood to cum fast. He didn't get to screw often, and he wasn't going to let this chance slip. As he pumped, Paul and Fox's cum oozed out the side of his cock. Butter Ball's cock popped out of his fleshy gut. He was well hung, but the cock was hidden deep in his body. The donkey dong was enough to make it show.
"Looks like you're churning butter!" As Mac said this, the fat man's cock began to shoot. There was sperm everywhere. "Shit, the boys already shot the cream!" It was a good show. The men laughed at Butter Ball's discomfort skewered on Pistol's meat, but they were excited by it also.
"It's time for everyone to play!" Cedric cried. "No more watching!"