Golden Cockerel 6
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.
When I woke, my cabin was flooded with shimmering red light. I first thought it was a fire, then realized that it was the sunrise reflecting off the sea. The room was awash in gold, red and blue light, and the sea looked like rubies and sapphires. Mac woke.
"Shit!" He said. "Trouble's coming! Red sky in the morning . . ." Mac had an almost mystical sense about the sea and weather. He knew what was coming and was unhappy. Tom, the cook, entered the room with breakfast and felt the same foreboding.
"Storm on the way." He said. "Big one, I'll bet."
"Looks like a big one to me. Let's get ready, I think we have some time." Mac said. He wolfed down some bread and cheese and went on deck. I followed a little later and the ship was humming in preparation. The old hands had a good idea what was coming. They tended to be fatalists, knowing that they could not escape their destiny. We could do only what we could do. Our fates were in the hands of God. Dread of the unknown is worse than pure garden variety dread. The new men were uneasy.
The Golden Cockerel was but a speck of sand in the immensity of the ocean. Will was excited by the prospect of a tempest. He seemed to look at it as being full of dramatical excitements. John was calm but worried. Kit was oblivious to the threat. Old Tom would take care of him.
Wolf and Cedric were getting ready for the storm. They were hard workers and expected everyone to make a contribution.
Wolf also began planning entertainments for the crew. When faced with an ordeal, Wolf liked to make up an event tor game to take the crew's mind off the problem. Wolf wanted to have a shooting contest. This was variant of the county bumpkin's pissing contest. Instead of who could piss the farthest, it was who could shoot his cum furthest.
Everyone was to save his seed for several days, then shoot it in a public contest. I thought that this might be an embarrassment to some of the smaller men. We discovered, however, that size and length of cock are unrelated to projectile force. Several small cocked men both shot far and copiously. And there were a multitude of techniques and devices the men developed to shoot. The exhibition was educational, not in the scholars sense of Oxford or Cambridge, although I would bet they would have learned something, but useful education. Everyone learned something that could be useful and pleasurable.
This year we had a number of new men and the old hands might well have picked up some new tricks. The contest would give them a chance to display their skills.
We had done this on the voyage with Raleigh. It had been the subject of great merriment and considerable pride that several of the men had out shot the courtier. Raleigh had sweetened the victory by betting that he would eat any cum that had shot further than his. Raleigh was nothing if not game, and had done this with relish and display.
Rather than lick it from the wooden deck, for he complained that he might get splinters, he offered to suck it from the piss pipe itself. He sucked Hugh, Badger and Ben. He told Ben that the blacksmith would never get any closer to good Queen Bess than when it shot off into Raleigh's mouth. Ben let loose a bucket of seed and the courtier almost choked. Raleigh was popular with the crew from that time on.
Cedric wanted to embellish the contest with some variety. Tom liked this suggesting that there be an award for catching cum as well as shooting it. Tom said that he liked anything that squirted from a cock, either seed or piss, and that he was not alone in his interests. He had converted a number of men to his point of view over the years. John was listening and looked puzzled.
Tom pointed out that when water was low or gone, urine was a life saver. This was generally known and the subject of many ribald jokes to those on land. They didn't realize the desperation of thirst in our rain-soaked homeland. Tom sensibly pointed out, that the odious necessity could be turned into a pleasure if the piss was served from the cock of a man you lusted after. "It is an elixir and a token of love when dribbling from a spigot you desire." Tom said.
"Waxing awfully poetical for a conversation about piss!" John said. He wasn't sure that Tom was serious. "The fitting subject for Homer. Ulysses drinking the piss of his shipmates!"
"Piss garnished with man seed, if what they say about the Greeks is true!" Tom said. He displayed more knowledge about the ancients than I would have thought. After years at sea the Greek must have had some enjoyment from his crew. "We need a committee!"
"For what?" Wolf asked.
"To arrange the games." Tom said, laughing. "We can have a cock fair! Filled with displays of cock prowess!"
"Prick sword fighting? Load dropping? Seed shooting? Ass stretching?" John suggested. He was enjoying him self. Stripped of his clerical weeds he had a randy sense of humor. I had been afraid that he might not get along with the men of humble station on the ship. He had no problem at all. We agreed that Wolf, Tom John and Old Tom would make the plans.
The air became still, hot and damp. It would be a tropical storm, perhaps a hurricane. The ship was battened down and everything was in its place. Most of the crew would be below deck waiting to be called on if disaster struck. The Golden Cockerel had been in hurricanes before and had survived. Cedric had assembled all the men suited for carpentry should repair be needed. Other men would man the pumps. If we were lucky, all the preparation would be unnecessary. If we were unlucky, all of our best plans would be for naught.
The wind began to rise. I ordered everyone to eat, since cooking wouldn't be possible until after the storm. We lowered all the sails and sent the crew below. Either Mac or I would be on the deck for the duration. We had ropes read y should we need to tie our selves to the ship if the seas got too high. Angus and Davie would man the wheel. They were huge, simple men, who were proud of their strength and had a chance to control the wheel when hit by tons of water. They were also fearless, perhaps because they couldn't understand the danger they were in.
I was on the first watch with Angus. Mac and I had devised a course that we hoped would keep us out of the eye of the storm. The sea got high, but ten and twenty foot waves were no problem for our sturdy ship. We rolled and bucked, but were able to keep in control. Mac relieved me with Davie and I went down below to check on the men.
It was dark and somber. Illuminated by only a few lamps you could see the worried, or terrified expressions on the men's faces. On the deck we could see the waves coming and had a chance to prepare for them. Below every thing was unexpected. And the ship seemed like a toy boat going over a water fall. Peter and Paul were deathly white. Kit was whimpering in Old Tom's arms. The violet tossing and twisting of the ship had made Bob sick. Unlike the crew's treatment of Butter Ball, no one seemed to notice Bob. Badger cleaned it up sat with him.
Butter Ball was with the troublemakers in the bow of the ship. Nim and Swallow were bemoaning their fates and screaming for mercy. Pistol was too scared to cry.
"Shut your fucking mouths!" Butter Ball said menacingly as he smacked them with his hand. They quieted. "If you make another sound I'll go to the swill bucket and stuff you with shit!"
"We're going to die!"Nim whimpered.
"You'd better off dying in the sea= Compared to what I'm going to do to you if you don't shut up!" Butter Ball said. "You're going to wish your whore mother had shoved you up her ass after she pulled you from her cunt if you don't do what I tell you." They were quiet and Butter Ball left them cowering in their bunks.
When he saw me, Butter Ball was totally unaffected and downright jovial. "Captain. I hope you don't mind me doing some disciplining of my own?" He said.
I laughed. "I'm not sure I would mind it if you drowned the lot! The storm doesn't bother you?"
"Truthfully speaking, Sir." He said. "I was so sick at the beginning of the voyage. I'm not sure I could ever puke again. I've put in my time."
Otter ran up to me. "Trouble! Davie's hurt!"
We ran to the deck and found Davie bleeding from a massive gash in his head. A barrel had broken loose, and hit him. Tom, our ship's doctor, came to help. Mac was at the wheel steering the ship. "Get Angus up here! Let's get Davie below." I ordered.
It was difficult to get the big man below, and we came close to being swept overboard. Head wounds bleed a lot, so I hope it wasn't as bad as it seemed. In the violent wind and rain it was impossible to get a good look at Davie's head. Down in the kitchen. Tom tried to stop the bleeding. I returned to my cabin. I talked with John about our situation. We were short a big man. Cedric and Ben were the right size, but they were skilled, we needed them for repairs. It was too dangerous for them on the deck.
"I'll do it." John said. He must have thought I was saying this to make him volunteer.
"You're the reason for the voyage. And a gentleman. This is a job for a seaman." I said.
"Our voyage will be short if we don't survive this storm." John said. He was right, so he replaced Davie at the wheel.
After the first few hours the crew became fully occupied by fixing leaks, pumping and making repairs. They were happy when they were working. Davie lingered near death. Butter Ball seemed to have some medical knowledge and fixed the cuts and bruises of the men while Tom worked with Davie. Every time he released the pressure on Davie's wound, he started to bleed. Kit sat there for hours hold pressing the gash.
The word was out that John was a cleric and Angus asked if John could administer the last rites. John absolutely refused and said he would lead prayers for deliverance and healing. John did the standard prayers with authority, and the mood lightened.
Only Nim and Swallow remained shiftless and worthless. Pistol may have been moved by fear of death, but he was tireless on the pumps! I was beginning to like Pistol, although I didn't know if it was because of his new attitude toward work or his huge cock. The storm lasted for a full day and a half, but the course Mac had devised kept us out of the worst of the tempest.
The sky resolved itself into individual clouds and the sun appeared. We had no idea where we were, but we were alive. I went to sleep and woke in the middle of the night. The stars were out in brilliant display. I could get my bearings. After some calculation in the cabin I found we were off course by about 200 miles, and were probably in the middle of the Spanish shipping route to the New World. It could have been much worse.
I returned to the deck and changed our course. I went back to bed. When I awoke, the room was flooded with light, golden, not red, and there was a commotion on the deck. I went out, and the crew had fished a man from the sea. He was naked and his arms and legs showed the clear marks of shackles. He was thin and under fed, but oddly his cock looked healthy. I was the only part of his anatomy to not show signs of malnutrition. He had been a galley slave. He spoke French. John came out and spoke to him. I knew that John spoke Latin and Greek. I hadn't thought that he knew French.
The man's name was Pierre, he was from Rochelle, and was Huguenot. He had been on a galleon that had been trapped in the storm. He thought it had gone down with the entire crew. By his account he had been saved only by divine intervention.
John got the whole story from him later. His ship was to resupply some out posts in the Americas. It was the only ship to sail this month, and it had been the ship that pillaged the Portugese merchantman. He had been a barber and shoemaker in La Rochelle. He had been captured and sold to the Spaniards, then been enslaved on the ship. He didn't think there was any Spanish men-of war in the area. His crew had felt they were lucky not being sent with a fleet to fight the Ottomans in the Mediterranean. Most of the fleet was a thousand moles away. This was welcome new for us.
The day was filled with repairs and by night fall the ship was back to normal. I woke the next morning and was greeted with the news that Davie was getting better. Pierre, the barber-shoemaker dabbled in surgery too. He had lanced the wounds and sewn Davie up the night before. Davie wasn't walking, but he was recovering. Like all good Englishmen, the crew was opposed to anything French. Pierre's medical skills transformed him into a valuable member of the crew.
During the storm and its aftermath, the plans for the cock fair had advanced. Wolf told me that the crew had been sworn to a lenten like pledge of no sex. Wolf figured that the men were well primed and that everyone's balls were fully loaded. The winds were constant and mild and the ship sailed at a good pace. We had a chance to relax.
Davie's recovery provided the spark needed to launch the fair. The crew was in a good mood, the sun was warm and staying up longer as we sailed to the south. The contest would be after dinner. Tom out did himself, providing a feast and I allowed extra wine and beer.
I had done only middling well at the last such contest so I had no great expectations. Cedric whispered to me to follow him into my cabin.
"Looking forward to winning the contest, Captain?" He asked.
"I doubt that." I said. "Couldn't manage more that a middling shot last time."
"Well, I have a toy for you." Cedric said. "Remember how well Hugh did? This was the secret." He pulled out of his pocket a wooden peg. I first thought it was for joinery, but I saw it was carved. It was carved in the shape of a cock. "Lodge this in your ass and you'll double the distance."
"I don't want to trick the crew!" I said.
"Don't worry sir."Cedric said. "They like for the Captain to do well. It served Raleigh well."
"That's why he did so well!" I said, laughing. "The trickster!"
"He just wanted to be near enough to win to make his wager believable." Cedric said. "It was the man seed he was after. He told me he was tired of the weak dribbles of courtiers' cocks. He wanted English clotted cream."
"Ben must have been a treat." I said remembering how Raleigh had gobbled up the blacksmith's juice.
"That it was, sir!" Cedric said. "He tried to get Ben away from you to join his household. He said that Ben would be both his bull and cum cow!" He paused. "You might make the same wager. The men loved it."
"As long as Nim and Swallow don't win." I said. Cedric laughed.
"Those cock masters have avoided the seed fast!" He said. "Nothing stored up in those balls. As you remember, they are more talk than cum!"
"And more shit than talk!" I added.
"If you 'd get naked, and lay back, I'd be pleased to equip you for the contest." Ben said. I did what he asked and Ben opened me up.
Ben had oiled up the wooden cock and oiled his hands as well. He fingered my hole. "You know sir." He said. "Most men think that their cock is the center of pleasure. I'm beginning to think that the ass is nearer the core." He worked his finger into my ass. His hands were callused and rough, and his fingers were as big as some men's cocks. "But the insides of a man's ass is truly tender. Much more soft than the sheath on the cock. More like the head." He was enjoying his exploration of my ass, and I enjoyed it too.
"There it is." He said. "The seat of pleasure. The magic nut." He knew his way around my ass. I had been with Cedric many times, but never like this.
"Who said an old dog can't learn new tricks?" I asked. "Have you been taking lessons?" Cedric laughed.
"No one is more opposed to new fangled ideas than I." He said. "I'm a true son of England. But Will brought these tricks from London. I tried them on Hugh and the pup almost cried." He withdrew his probing fingers and inserted the dong. It was relaxing compared to the skilled fingers. "I don't want you to blow before the main event!" The dong was contrived so that it filled the ass, and seemed to squeeze every organ near it.
"After the contest, lets meet and press this the issue!" I said. "It was a wonder."
"I'd be more than willing to help you out sir." Cedric said. "If I could bring Hugh too, it would be nice. He wants to be like the other men. You've never drained him, and he'd like it."
"If Hugh does well tonight, that may already be done" I said. "I hope I don't drown making this a happy ship!"