Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and as such is a product of my imagination and not real life. I beg your pardon if there are historical inaccuracies. The story will include descriptions of sexual activity between teen boys, and in later chapters, activity between men and boys. If material of this kind might offend you then please stop reading. To all others, enjoy! You are welcome to send comments or story ideas to Playbuddy123@yahoo.com
Tortuga Gold - 6 m/t
As the boys made their way back toward the crew quarters, Chandler reached back and scratched his ass.
"How's your bum?" Tom chuckled.
"Just a bit sore," Chandler answered, "you were right, he's not as big as you."
"You did fine," Tom said softly. "The way the Captain looked at me, you'll be in his good books for a while."
Chandler smiled, pleased with himself.
The boys went a little further, and then Chandler spoke again. "But I am feeling the need to go," he mumbled.
"Need a piss, do ya? Well, just go topside, step to the rail, and let fly. Downwind of course," Tom chuckled.
Chandler gave Tom a look of embarrassment, "don't exactly need to piss," he reached back to his ass again.
Tom laughed, "Oh, in need of a grunt, then."
Chandler made a slight nod of his head.
"This way," Tom indicated. "We'll make for the bow. It's at the head of the boat. Simple enough then, if anyone asks what you're doing, just tell him you're going to the head."
When they arrived, Tom showed Chandler a narrow board affixed to the bow hanging out over the sea.
"Sit there, hold on to them lines, and make sure you don't fall overboard!" Tom grinned.
Chandler gave Tom a worried look.
"All right, I'll wait then," Tom sighed.
Chandler undid his pants and held them at the waist while he turned around and slowly stepped backwards. He grabbed one of the lines to the bow sprint, dropped his britches and then eased himself down onto the bench. His bare ass was now hanging well out over the water.
"Captain stir things up a bit back there?" Tom snickered.
"A bit," Chandler groaned, then strained and grunted. Shortly after, there was a soft plop as something fell into the harbor.
Chandler made a face, a wet farting sound, and then there was a second plop.
Chandler paused in his efforts. "Why is it out here?"
"Cause when we're underway, the wind will be behind us filling the sail, so that blows the smells away from the crew. Then if there are any bits that stick to the ship," Tom laughed, "the bow waves will wash them off."
Chandler grunted several more times and then finished.
"Use them rope pieces for a wipe. Then if you thinks ya need a rinse, use that sponge in the rain bucket."
Chandler finally emerged, rubbing his rear end. "Bit rough," he grumped.
"You'll get used to it," Tom chuckled. "Now, time for bed."
Chandler curled close to Tom in a spot between two cannon on the gun deck. They had laid Tom's blanket down first and then had crawled under Chandler's. There were hammocks on the crew deck for many of the crew, but not all. When the weather was decent, Tom said he preferred the less crowded upper deck. The cool evening air was a sharp contrast to the warm afternoon.
"Thanks for helping me," Chandler whispered as he snuggled closer.
"Just returning the favor," Tom replied, Chandler assuming his friend was referring to how Chandler had brought him in from off the street.
Chandler yawned.
"Best get some sleep," Tom offered, "you'll be up at six bells."
Chandler nodded, his eyes already heavy.
The next thing Chandler knew, he was feeling the toe of a boot in his side gently rocking him. Hours had passed, he couldn't tell how many.
"Up! We've work to do!" Thatcher said, insistently rocking the boy.
"Whaa...?" Chandler yawned.
"I said, there's work to do!"
Chandler looked up to see the cook looking down at him. Tom was no longer at his side.
"Yes, Sir," he mumbled.
Chandler got to his feet and grabbed the blanket. "Need to put this away and take a pee, first."
"Meet me in the galley in ten minutes."
Three hours later the men had all gotten tea, bread, and some salt tack.
Tom had come through and smiled as Chandler filled his cup with tea. "I told you the day starts early," Tom laughed.
Chandler yawned, "I'm rethinking whether I should have stayed at the Black Dogg," he chuckled. "At least there I could sleep till noon."
Tom grinned, "But look at all the fun you'd be missing!"
Chandler chuckled.
With breakfast over, the cook turned to the midday meal. Chandler watched as Thatcher directed several deck hands to storage areas where they brought back crates of vegetables.
"We use the fresh food before it goes bad," he explained as they stacked box after box on the floor.
"Sit there, and cut these up. We'll boil them."
Chandler looked to where the cook had pointed. A small bench was bolted to the wall. It was no more than four feet long and just wide enough for a boy to sit. The unusual thing was that there were two wood pegs standing up, dead center.
"Sit there?" Chandler asked with some hesitation.
The cook chuckled. "You never heard of a peg boy?"
"No, sir," Chandler blushed.
"That's what you is, a `peg boy'"
"What's a peg boy?" Chandler whispered.
"A boy like yourself! One whose duty is to be ready when needed."
Chandler looked at the bench again. "I don't know about sitting there," he mumbled.
"Suit yourself, but it will go better for ya if you do as you're told."
Chandler looked at the cook, then back at the bench with its two protruding knobs. Chandler followed the cook's glance toward a clay bowl containing cooking fat.
The cook looked back at the boy, "like I said, it'll go easier on ya," he shrugged.
Chandler thought a moment, then sighed and dropped his britches. He scooped up a glob of grease, reached back and did himself, then wrapped his still greasy hand around the wooden peg. The rounded knob coming up from below the seat stood up about four inches high and was just slightly thicker than a cigar. In fact, it reminded Chandler of the many half smoked cigars he had seen at the tavern. With one last look at Thatcher, Chandler eased back, pulled his cheeks apart, and slowly sat down. The greased knob pushed through his ring, made its way into his rectum, and finally nestled itself well up his bum.
"Now get to work," Thatcher said softly, pushing the vegetables closer and handing him a knife.
Perhaps an hour had gone by with Chandler slowly becoming accustomed to the thing in his ass. So much so, he now sported a fine example of stiff pubescent boyhood.
"Looks like you're enjoying yourself," a young lad giggled.
Chandler blushed.
"Stevens," Thatcher called.
"Captain sent me, sir," the boy replied, "I'm to take a turn on the bench."
The cook nodded.
The boy, no more than thirteen, quickly dropped his pants, greased the second peg and slowly sat himself down next to Chandler. "Who are you then?" he asked as he reached for a knife.
"Chandler, I'm the Cook's Boy."
"Stevens, the Captains Boy."
Chandler marveled at the nonchalant way the black haired lad had taken to baring his ass, greasing up, and sitting down. He didn't seem to hesitate in taking the wood intruder up his rear end.
The boy must have guessed at his wonderment. "All the boys take their turn here," he said easily. "You'd soon regret it if you didn't. Need to keep things at the ready." He chuckled.
Chandler noticed it wasn't more than five minutes and the lad was sporting his own erection.
They worked on, mostly in silence, with an occasional exchange. Chandler found it a little difficult to make small talk while sitting half naked with a wood knob up his bum.
"So, do the sailors just use us as they want?" Chandler asked softly.
The Captain's boy gave him a look. "No ones' explained it?"
Chandler shook his head.
Stevens leaned his head closer. "It's like this. Some of the men won't get close to another man or boy, they wait until they're ashore for the women folk. They use their hand to keep themselves company."
Thatcher snickered.
"Some of the other men like the older lads and other men. So they just find a place below decks when need be and that's the way of that."
Chandler nodded.
"The rest of the men likes the boys. That's why we have eight on board. Like I said, I'm the Captain's boy. So he gets my attention, you're the Cook's boy, so Thatcher will keep you busy, and the rest are deck hands."
"So, I only have to keep Thatcher pleased?" Chandler whispered.
"Not enough boys for the rest of the crew. You have to help the others out too. But here's the way of it. No one can force you, if they do, you tell the Captain and they get the lash. If anyone besides Thatcher comes calling, they need to bring you something."
"Like what?"
"A few coins, a pinch of tobacco, maybe an extra measure of rum. A mate helps a mate out."
Chandler nodded. "So why does the cook get himself his own boy?"
Stevens smiled, "Captain knows you keep the cook happy, he'll keep the crew happy with good food."
Chandler smiled, the simple logic made sense to him.
Perhaps another half hour went by.
Thatcher finished what he was doing, pulled off the grimy piece of sail cloth he had been using as an apron, walked over to the boys and stood in front of Chandler.
Chandler looked up into the man's face. At about twenty, Thatcher had the look of a lad five years younger. His forehead and nose were sprinkled with freckles, there were a few pimples scattered around an otherwise soft complexion, and a thick mop of reddish hair was cut much like that of a boy.
As Chandler watched, Thatcher slowly undid the buttons on his britches.
The fourteen year old looked up into the cook's eyes and instantly saw his neediness.
Chandler blushed. He gave a quick look to the boy sitting next to him. Stevens just shrugged and went back to his work.
Thatcher put his hand on the back of Chandler's head and eased it forward. "Mind the teeth," he said firmly.
"I wish they'd stop saying that!" Chandler thought and reached into the man's pants.
He fished out a cock of slightly more than average length and about average thickness. The red hair on top was matched by that down below. The limp thing hung lazily, with the pee slit just peeking out from the cover. The man's sack was abnormally large and a quick feel confirmed the treasures inside were ample. The balls hung low as if filled to capacity. Chandler shifted a bit, the peg in his bum creating his own needs and desires.
Thatcher guided Chandler's head lower. Chandler dutifully opened his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and licked the end of the thing, and then gave it a couple of long strokes. He saw from the corner of his eye Stevens was watching.
"Go ahead then," Stevens chuckled, "let's see how you are at sucking him."
Chandler gave the shaft another stroke, licked, and then took it into his mouth. The cook pulled his head down further as his hips thrust forward, pushing his cock through the boy's lips.
"There's a good lad," Thatcher moaned softly as he started to thrust in and out in a rhythmic motion. "Show Stevens what kind of Cook's Boy you are."
Chandler used his hands, tongue, and warm mouth in every way that he could think. Thatcher's moans were constant and the thrusting continuous.
"Suck harder," Thatcher whispered, his voice growing more ragged.
Chandler redoubled his efforts. The feel of the man's spongy head sliding over his tongue was amazing. He pursed his lips and let Thatcher rabbit fuck his mouth for a little, and then took him in his hand for a slow stroke.
The feelings in his own groin were growing as he went about his work. "Permission, Sir?" Chandler asked, hurriedly pulling the cock out of his mouth for a brief moment.
"You don't need my permission, boy," Thatcher grunted, quickly pushing his dick back between Chandler's lips. "You only need permission when you're with the Captain."
Chandler reached down and wrapped his hand around his own dick as Thatcher took control and started to fuck his face more urgently. The wooden knob in his ass, the cock in his mouth, and his own hand working his boyhood were creating amazing sensations.
"Let's see you squirt in his mouth then," Stevens said with a chuckle.
Thatcher groaned.
Chandler could see the other boy's hand reach over. He started to gently play with the cook's low hanging sack.
"That's it, almost there aren't you?" Stevens whispered, lifting one ball and then the other.
Thatcher grunted.
"Nothing like a boy is there?" Stevens grinned, "Nice warm mouth, a wet tongue, the feel of them pretty lips."
Thatcher groaned as Stevens' words appeared to horn him up even more. He pulled Chandler close, practically choking him on his dick, and then shuddered.
"There it is," Stevens chuckled.
Chandler felt the cook's cock jerk, the first spurt of hot cream caught in his throat. He gagged and tried to cough as two more spurts followed the first. His eyes watered but he finally managed to swallow. A fourth and final load filled his mouth for the second time.
Thatcher pumped a couple of more times and then paused. Sperm dripped out of the side of Chandler's mouth as he sat there with the fat dick stuffed in his face.
"That looked like a nice one," Stevens chuckled as Thatcher made one last thrust and slowly pulled out of the boy.
Chandler sucked in a great mouthful of air. His eyes rolled back as he tried to recover.
Seconds later, he felt a hand on his cock. Stevens edged Thatcher back a couple of steps, got up and then knelt over Chandler's crotch. Two minutes of that sweet boy's mouth on his dick, and Chandler too was spurting.
Stevens easily took all that Chandler offered, swallowing several times and then licking his lips. Finally, he used his mouth to clean him.
Thatcher had watched the boys, and now seeing that they were done, stepped up again and pushed his wet thing back in Chandler's mouth.
"Finish up then," Thatcher said softly.
Chandler licked the man's cock with his tongue and sucked him clean.
Satisfied, Thatcher finally pulled out and tucked things back into place. "You'll do," he said gruffly, but then smiled. "Welcome aboard," he chuckled and went back to his work.
Chandler looked at Stevens. "Thanks," he whispered. "Want me to do you?"
The younger boy shook his head, `no'.
"Why not?"
"The Captain likes me to save it for him." Stevens grinned.
Chandler smiled.
"Put your pants back on, we've a meal to serve!" Thatcher barked.
Chandler got up and Stevens tossed him a rag.
"Best give it a wipe," he laughed.
Chandler grinned and took a swipe back there.
The Captain called a meeting of all hands late that afternoon.
"We sail with the morning tide," he began, and told the crew what he expected of them. "When we're two days out I'll tell you where we're going and what we're after.
"Will there be gold?" A hearty laugh came from the back of the crowd.
"More gold than even you can spend!" The Captain joked to the cheers and laughs of the men.
Double ration of spirits tonight, and then we're off!" The Captain yelled playfully and once again the men cheered.
"I knew there'd be gold," Tom said quietly as he and Chandler made their way aft.
"I can't even imagine what having a hand full of gold would be like," Chandler mused.
Tom put his arm out and abruptly stopped Chandler as they neared the stern.
"Tawse and Bill," he whispered pulling Chandler behind a mast.
The two men were at the far corner, talking softly and smoking. The short length of rope Tawse used for discipline hung at his waist.
"Look at the way they're always looking about, as if they're afraid someone's watching them," Tom whispered.
They watched as the men whispered a few more minutes and then broke up.
"We need to talk to Tug," Tom said as the boys headed back to their work stations. "See if he's found anything out."
Chandler agreed.
It wasn't until after supper that the boys managed to get Tug alone. They found a quiet place in a dark corner of the sail locker. Sitting on the rolled canvas, Tug lit his pipe.
"Have you heard anything?" Tom asked as Tug took a couple of long puffs.
"Aye," the man drawled.
"What?" Chandler whispered.
"I heard Thatcher likes his new Cook's Boy!" Tug laughed.
Chandler groaned as Tom laughed.
Tug grew serious, "You're right," Tug whispered looking at Tom, "Tawse is planning something. He's talked to some of the undesirables and they're forming some kind of alliance."
"Did you tell the Captain?"
"Not my place, besides, nothing can be proved."
"The Captain needs to know!" Tom said quietly.
"What about Stevens?" Chandler suggested.
"What about him?" Tug asked.
"We could tell him and he could tell the Captain."
Tom thought a moment. "Here's how to do it. Don't tell him out right." Tom looked toward Chandler, "When you see him in the galley, find the right moment, and then you drops a hint about Tawse, make it all casual. He'll tell the Captain for sure. After all, he is the Captain's boy."
Chandler agreed. "I can do that easy."
Tug took another puff. "Take care, Tawse finds out and you'll be fed to the sharks."
Chandler pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, making himself into a tight ball. "I hate sharks," he whispered.
Tug finished his smoke and turned to Tom. "Now that I done you a favor.." he chuckled and left the rest unsaid.
Tom gave Chandler a quick look. "Best check and see if Thatcher needs some help in the galley."
Chandler caught on, nodded, and got to his feet. "Will I see you later then?"
Tom smiled, "Get the blankets out and I'll be there soon."
Tug chuckled. "Maybe next time you'll be the one to stay and Tom will be the one going topside."
Chandler shrugged, "Maybe, for the right price," he giggled.
Tom stood and undid the buttons on his pants. "You'll have to settle for me bum," he said with a grin. "Don't fancy it the other way at the moment."
Tug grinned, "Always thought you had one of the best bums anyway," he laughed.
Tom pushed his pants down and lay over a roll of sailcloth.
Tug got his own pants down and released his hard tool. "Spread `em, Tommy boy!" he whispered in the lad's ear as he lay over his back.
Tom spread his legs a bit wider as Tug's knob slipped between his cheeks.
"Greased and ready," Tug chuckled as he pushed forward a bit, "just the way I like it."
"So, are we going to fuck or talk?" Tom chuckled.
Tug slowly pushed forward, sinking his cock further and further into Tom's ass.
"We're going to fuck!" Tug grunted, and did just that.
Chandler spread out the blankets as they had the night before. He lay down and waited. The air was cool, but not cold. The sound of the waves lapping against the side of the ship was rhythmic and soothing. The smell of the sea air, tar, canvas, old rope, all blended together. He thought in its own way it was like the tavern.
He may have closed his eyes; he was tired, after all, but then felt someone snuggle in behind him. "That didn't take long," he whispered as he turned around.
Tom smiled. "Tug usually takes his time, but not tonight. He gave it to me fast and hard and it was over quick."
"Did you get some fun out of it?" Chandler giggled.
Tom chuckled, "Nah, just a bum full."
"I could help," Chandler whispered.
Tom leaned close. They stared into one another's eyes for a moment and then kissed. The embrace turned more passionate as it went on.
Chandler reached down and rubbed the bulge between Tom's legs.
Tom gently nudged him to his back. The boys kissed again, slowly, and tenderly.
"Sorry, I don't have any coins," Tom joked.
Chandler looked up and gently touched Tom's cheek. "Mates..."
Tom grinned, "...do for each other."
Chandler rolled to his side as Tom spooned in behind.
Chandler lowered his britches while Tom did the same.
"Go easy?" he asked softly.
Tom kissed him behind the ear, "Ready to make sail?" he whispered.
Chandler nodded, and Tom set things in motion with one long slow push.
Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think of the story. Write me at Playbuddy123@yahoo.com. Thanks, Jon.