Tortuga Gold

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 -- 9 m/t t/t

Chandler found that after several days of sailing, life aboard the Tortuga had settled into a somewhat predictable routine. There was always a lull in the work in the galley just after morning tea until preparations had to begin for the mid-day meal.

"Permission to go on deck?" Chandler asked as he finished the last of the morning chores.

Thatcher looked around and seemed satisfied that things were in order, "An hour, no more."

Chandler grinned, "Aye," and hurried away.

The wind was fair and the ship seemed to be taking nicely to the moderate seas.

"She's a happy boat," a deep rasping voice came from behind Chandler's back. The boy turned to see Crandall, the Purser, smoking a pipe. The tough old sailor had been the one overseeing the outfitting for this trip and had been dockside when Chandler arrived. He also was the one who signed him up and made him part of the crew.

"A happy boat?" Chandler asked.

"See the way the wind fills her sails? Look how she cuts through the water, like she's running free. Graceful, proud, and happy she is."

Chandler stared at the man who in some ways had almost as much authority as the Captain. After all, he saw to paying the crew, distributing prize money and making sure the ship was well provisioned. Surprisingly though, he seemed to keep a low profile. Chandler sensed there was much more to the man, just below the surface.

"Will we really find treasure?" Chandler asked softly.

Crandall smiled, took a long deep puff of smoke, and slowly released it, "Aye!"

A boyish grin came to Chandler's face. "That'll be something," he laughed.

Crandall took another long pull on his pipe and ran his hand down his leg pausing to rub deeply near the knee. "Storm coming," he sighed and turned the pipe over and dumped the ashes over the side.

Chandler looked up and saw nothing but sunshine and blue sky.

"Have yourself a good one?" Chandler chuckled as he stepped in front of the bowsprit and found Stevens, the Captain's boy, fumbling with his trousers. There was only one reason for him to be doing that this far forward, he must have just finished taking a grunt.

The boy blushed. "No need to ask why you're here."

Chandler undid his pants and squeezed past. "Nothing like a good sit down," he snickered as Stevens stepped out of the way.

"Thatcher keeping you busy then?"

Chandler looked over his shoulder. "Busy enough, I guess."

"Might be some changes soon, I could put in a good word if the price was right." The boy's high pitched voice was almost lost in the wind.

Chandler looked at the boy remembering the sight of him standing next to Tawse. There seemed to be little doubt he was part of the scheming and plotting.

Chandler tried to keep the anger he was feeling out of his voice and off his face, "Changes?"

Stevens nodded, "Five gold coins ought to do it," he said with a shifty look.

"And if I don't?"

Stevens snickered. "Trust me, you'll want to be on the winning side."

Chandler dropped his pants, and made a point of turning his bare ass in Stevens' direction as he made his way to the seat over the bow.

"Little pris!" he mumbled under his breath as he got down to business.

One of the things Chandler was learning as Cook's Boy, was Thatcher's moods. He found that the twenty year old lad was cheerful most of the time. He enjoyed his work as cook, and made it a point to be on good terms with the men. His mood soured however, when the men didn't appreciate the work he had put in to get a meal ready for them. They soon learned making crude remarks to the cook wasn't a good idea. As a result, no one wanted to see him angry.

Chandler was also becoming familiar with another of Thatcher's moods. Quick hurried glances, short commands, and very little small talk usually meant the young man was starting to feel the itch. Call it anxious or call it horny, it amounted to the same thing. Chandler sensed Thatcher was fighting with himself, resisting the urge. But then, apparently having tried to put it off, he would give in.

Chandler could see from the look in Thatcher's eyes, that the cook was having one of those days.

The boy smiled to himself. Thatcher cursed under his breath as he worked. But the glances kept coming and became more frequent. "Soon," Chandler thought, "he'll want me soon."

A few minutes later Thatcher sighed, and slammed the tip of his knife into the cutting board. He looked at the boy. "Need something in the sail locker," he said brusquely.

From the way Thatcher moved his head, Chandler knew he was to follow.

They made their way forward and then through a small passage to where extra sail was stored. It was dark with only a bit of light filtering in from cracks between the boards of the deck above.

Thatcher stopped, turned, and started to undo his britches. He didn't look at Chandler, only glanced at a bundle of canvas and said, "bend over that."

Chandler undid his pants, and let them drop to the floor. He paused as Thatcher gave his dick a stroke and then he did as he was told and bent over the mound of rough cloth. He rested his head in his arms.

Thatcher felt the smooth skin of the boy's bum, his hand gently rubbing one side and then the other. "Do you like it then?" he whispered as he played with each cheek.

"I don't mind," Chandler said with a shrug.

"I mean when men use your bum or your mouth," Thatcher pressed.

"I know what you meant." Chandler chuckled. "I don't mind, and sometimes it's really fun!"

Thatcher felt the boy's cheeks again. He was quiet for a moment. "A man has needs sometimes," he whispered.

To Chandler it sounded almost as if Thatcher was offering an apology. He turned to look over his shoulder. "It's all right, you can do it anytime you want."

Thatcher seemed to struggle.

"Is there a girl?" Chandler smiled.

"Her name's Laura," Thatcher blushed.

"Men have needs," Chandler shrugged, repeating Thatcher's own words. "We're at sea," he whispered.

Thatcher nodded slightly.

"Come on, give me a good buggering," he chuckled.

Thatcher blushed, and then smiled.

Chandler lay his head back down in his arms and pushed his ass out.

Thatcher stroked his cock several times and placed the head between the boy's cheeks. He took hold of Chandler's waist and slowly pushed forward. The tight hole held him back briefly, but then opened like a flower.

"That's the stuff," Chandler groaned softly as the head slipped in and then inch after inch of shaft slowly made its way up his ass. The deeper it went, the more wonderful the feeling of fullness. Chandler decided he really enjoyed the feeling of a hard cock back there.

When it was nearly in, Thatcher gave it a quick thrust to ram it the rest of the way home. The flared head lodged deep in the folds of Chandler's insides.

"Ugh," Chandler grunted as a puff of air was forced out of his lungs. The shaft twitched and Thatcher nudged it in a tiny bit more. Chandler spread his legs wider. Thatcher's weight pressed him tight against the sail.

"I like the feel of your bum," Thatcher groaned as he twisted his cock to the right and then the left, "It's hot and tight!"

Chandler lifted up, adjusting the angle to get the most pleasure. "Definitely like the feel that," he thought as the knob rubbed against his love bump.

"Give us a fuck then," he said with a grunt, his voice sounding needy. He bent a bit more at the waist and put his head down.

Thatcher pulled about half way out, paused, and then slammed in hard. "If it's a fuck you want, it's a fuck you'll get," he groaned.

Chandler felt Thatcher withdraw entirely, tease his entrance with the head, and then push the hard thing back into his rectum. He went deep, making Chandler squirm to accommodate it. The pace was even, but slow at first and then the strokes came long, hard, and often. Both boys were soon groaning with the increasing tempo and urgency.

"Harder," Chandler whimpered softly as Thatcher slammed into him. "Bugger me," he begged, as he wiggled on the end of the thing.

Thatcher held Chandler firmly and used his legs to power his cock deep and fast.

Chandler shuddered as the feelings in his ass grew. The cock was probing, exploring, taunting in its insistence to be allowed into the darkest reaches of his bum. As a result, his own cock was standing straight up and was now flat against his belly. The tip was oozing drop after drop of juice.

"Fuck, I need to cum," Chandler whined as he wrapped his hand around it and started to jerk.

Thatcher moved his hands to Chandler's shoulders and pulled him up and off the bundle of sail to a standing position. Once there, he grabbed the boy's waist again and thrust upwards.

Chandler steadied himself by placing a hand on a nearby post as Thatcher slammed him harder. The other hand he used to once again tug on his cock. He sensed Thatcher was nearing the end. The thrusts were quicker, the other boy's breathing shallower, but still, the cock in his ass felt incredible.

"I'm, I'm, Aaahhhhhhh," Thatcher grunted, his voice husky with passion. He thrust in deep and pulled Chandler tight.

"Oh, Oh," Chandler whined as he furiously jerked himself, the familiar feeling of warm cum spread through his rear. He felt Thatcher stuff it up his bum a couple of more times.

Seconds after that, it was over. Chandler let out a long grunt as he too shot his stuff. Three long squirts of pearly white goo made an ark several feet high before falling to the deck like rain.

Thatcher groaned as he ground his dick in a circle.

With gasps, the boys struggled for air. Slowly they recovered from their sexual high.

Thatcher slid his hands up and down Chandler's back a few times and then very tenderly pulled his dick out of the fourteen year old's ass.

Chandler sighed. "Saved that one up, didn't you?" he giggled as he turned around.

Thatcher laughed softly and then grinned.

"Can I pull up my pants? Or do you want another go?" Chandler teased.

Thatcher smiled. "Pull `em up, but don't be surprised if I feel the need again soon," he chuckled.

It was late when Tom snuggled in under the blanket tight against Chandler. He had been on duty and was ready for sleep.

Chandler rolled over and the boys were now face to face.

"You look tired," Chandler said, pulling Tom close.

Tom gave him a playful smile. "Maybe not that tired," he chuckled.

Chandler laughed. "Sorry, Thatcher wore me out, but I'd be willing to give you a bit of a wank."

Tom yawned, "It can wait until tomorrow."

"Will you hold me? Chandler whispered.

Tom wrapped his arms around the boy and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead.

Chandler sighed.

"Wind picking up," Tom said softly into Chandler's ear, "Ready for a storm?"

Chandler leaned back, apparently to look into Tom's eyes. "Crandall said that this morning."

"That old sea dog can feel a storm coming."

Chandler snuggled back again. "I'll be fine," he said sounding confident.

Tom gave him a squeeze. "Course you will," he chuckled.

Within hours the ship was plowing through heavy seas. The Tortuga valiantly sailed into deep toughs, climbed up the front of monster waves, and slid back down. The deck was pitching and driving rain made moving about difficult, if not impossible.

Chandler held tightly to the rail as his stomach cramped and he bent over for the tenth time in less than an hour to puke. He couldn't stop the heaves; even though there wasn't anything left to cough up. He was soaked through and more than once thought, "it would be better if they just let me die."

"Nothing to be ashamed about!" Tom yelled as he held tight to a line. "Most everyone gets seasick their first time," he hollered, as Chandler looked up in misery.

Several other men were positioned along the rail on both sides. It was clear Chandler wasn't alone.

When it was obvious to Chandler his stomach was empty, he gave Tom a pleading look. "Will you help me get below?"

Tom nodded and wrapped an arm around Chandler's waist and they both held on to whatever they could reach to steady themselves.

Tom made his way down the ladder first, moving slowly so should Chandler stumble, he'd be in a position to catch him. Finally they were off the weather deck and sheltered from the wind and rain.

Tom helped his friend to their usual place between two cannon and spread out a blanket. "Let's get you out of those wet things," he said softly, starting to undo Chandler's shirt.

A few minutes later Chandler was standing naked. He shivered as Tom wrapped a second blanket around him.

Chandler sat down, his back against the hull. "Another of those things you didn't tell me about," he croaked between shivers.

Tom took off his wet clothes and hurried under the blanket, pulling Chandler into a hug. He rubbed the boy's back, arms and legs. It didn't help much.

"Adventure, isn't it?" Tom joked as Chandler shook uncontrollably.

Chandler looked into Tom's eyes, unable to hide his fear.

"The Tortuga is a good ship, no need to worry," Tom told him.

Chandler hugged Tom close, then suddenly gagged and coughed up a bit of slop. It landed on Tom's shoulder and part way down his back.

Tom made a disgusted sound and pulled away. "Thanks for that," he said making a face.

Chandler was about to reply when he doubled over again, this time the mess landed on the deck.

"The Master gunner isn't going to be happy about that," Tom chuckled.

Chandler gave him what he hoped was a menacing look.

"Yeah, well, I guess it's a bad time for jokes," Tom said softly.

Chandler laid his head back against the hull, closed his eyes, and waited for the next roll of his stomach.

The storm raged for eight hours and then slowly moved on. Captain Searle ordered some members of the crew to make repairs; others were assigned to clean up duties, and the rest to their usual tasks.

Chandler tried returning to his job in the galley, but the smell was more than he could manage.

"Report to the Captain, tell him your stomach's not up to food yet," Thatcher said and turned back to work.

Chandler did as he was told and was assigned to the ship's sail maker. Repairs needed to be made to sails that had been damaged by the strong wind. Before long the boy was busily helping to sew patches over torn canvas.

"You're really good at this," Chandler smiled as he watched Quan deftly thread line through a patch and tie it off.

"Pretty good with my hands," the boy giggled. "You feeling better? I heard you were sick."

"The storm."

Quan stopped what he was doing and pulled out a pipe. He filled it with tobacco and then reached into a small pouch hanging from his waist. He spread a touch of white powder over the dark leaves. Another sailor was smoking, so Quan used his pipe to light his own.

"My magic dust cures many things," Quan smiled, took a drag and handed it to Chandler.

Chandler hesitated but then took a puff.

They did this several times.

"I am feeling better," Chandler said softly, his eyes glazing over a bit. "Magic dust, wow!"

Quan grinned.

"I heard you do magic tricks," Chandler chuckled, "but didn't imagine this."

Quan shrugged, "I do a few tricks," but the twinkle in his eyes and the smile hinted he did more than a few.

"Show me another one," Chandler urged. He pestered until Quan agreed.

Quan held up a small length of string, smoothed it out, and pulled it taut. He snapped it a couple of times, demonstrating its strength and that it was all in one piece. The boy made a show of forming a tight fist and then slowly pushed the string into the hole at the center. He took great pains to stuff the string deep inside.

Chandler was mesmerized. The ship seemed to tilt and fun colors appeared before his eyes.

Quan winked, pursed his lips, and lightly blew over his hand. He opened it and it was empty.

"Where did it go?" Chandler laughed, his eyes wide with wonder.

Quan giggled and slid closer to the boy next to him, looked into his ear, and reached in. He playfully tugged, and inch by inch the string emerged.

Everyone laughed.

"How'd you get it into his ear?" Chandler giggled.

Quan chuckled. "I never tell my secrets," his smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Chandler told me Stevens gave it up, `says there's going to be a change' and tried to get him to buy in," Tom whispered to Tug as they stood at the stern rail.

"Been talking to a few of the men," Tug took a pull on his pipe. "Tawse has about eight so far that's willing to go along."

"Time to tell the Captain?" Tom asked with a worried look.

"They won't make their move until the treasure is in sight, or more likely is on board."

"When do you think we'll meet up with the Soledad?"

"A week, maybe two."

"I think we should tell the Captain," Tom said, this time with more conviction.

"Give Tawse enough rope, he'll hang," Tug said slowly.

"Wouldn't cause me to lose any sleep," Tom said, and then spit.

Two nights later Chandler and Tom were sitting with a dozen hands drinking, singing, and telling stories. Two of the men had brought out their private supply of bumbo. The spiced rum drink was going down easily and both Chandler and Tom found themselves happy, very happy.

"Think Stevens is getting his bum stretched?" Chandler giggled, taking a swig from the jug as it passed by.

"Captain had the look, that's for sure," Tom laughed.

Chandler leaned closer, "but the Captain isn't much of a challenge," he grinned groping himself.

Tom winked. He looked around and then nodded, "Now there's a challenge! Luke will give ya a go!" Tom stared at the tall blond.

"Already did him," Chandler chuckled.

Tom felt his eyes grow wide. "Fuck you did!"

Chandler grinned, "Earned my coins that day, I'll tell you," he gave Tom a slap on the arm.

Tom stared at his friend, trying to decide if he was lying. He couldn't keep eye contact without breaking into a fit of laughter.

"Bet you couldn't do it!" Chandler challenged.

"Did it once or twice, could do it again if I was inclined."

Chandler raised a hand and motioned toward the older boy. Luke gave him a puzzled look but then made his way over.

"Tom here says he wants another look," Chandler smiled and lowered his eyes to Luke's crotch.

"Not in the mood for showing it off," Luke chuckled.

"What do you say? Think you're up for it?" Chandler teased.

Tom knew Chandler was goading him. He gave Chandler a playful look. "Think I won't?"

"Bet he says I was better than you!" Chandler boasted.

Luke looked confused.

Tom was leaning against the hull. He rolled onto his hands and knees, feeling the effects of the drink. Gaining his balance, he stood up and put his hands on Luke's arms to steady himself. "Want to have a go?" he chuckled.

Luke grinned.

"I want to watch," Chandler drawled and slowly got to his feet the same way Tom had.

The gun deck was quiet, even though Chandler could make out two sets of figures moving about. One boy was at the back of the space bent over a cannon with a twenty year old licking his crack. In the far corner a powder monkey was on his knees with an older sailor enthusiastically using his mouth.

"What do you want then?" Chandler smiled at Luke.

Luke looked at both scenes. He slowly undid his britches and slid them down. He stroked himself hard. His eyes traveled back to the boy on his knees.

Tom didn't need to be told. He got to his knees and took Luke's sizeable endowment in his hand. He stared at the ring that circled the head from where the extra skin had been cut off. "There are only three on board that look like this," he said as he gave it another stroke.

"How would you know that?" Luke laughed.

Tom grinned and gave the flared head a lick. "Been on board since I was his age," he nodded toward Chandler.

Luke placed his hands on Tom's head and eased forward. "Enough talk, time to suck some cock."

Chandler climbed on top of a gun, straddled the barrel, and lay forward so he could watch his best friend get face fucked.

Tom opened his mouth wider and was able to relax his jaw sufficiently to allow Luke to slide nearly half his length in before gagging.

Chandler snickered, remembering how big the thing had felt in his own mouth. He watched as Tom pulled back a bit, swallowed and then took it back in again. Luke started an easy-going fucking motion. The boy's hips moved smoothly and effortlessly as he slid his dick in and out.

"Nice," Luke moaned softly.

The sound of sucking, and the occasional moan could be heard from the far corner. The young boy bent over the cannon was whimpering as the twenty year old continued to lick his ass. Moments later the older boy put his dick where his tongue had just been.

Luke held a steady pace as Tom did his work. Chandler watched as Tom used his free hand to play with Luke's heavy sack and its contents.

"Not bad," Chandler teased when Tom turned his eyes in his direction. "But can you take it to the root?"

Tom gave Chandler a worried look.

"That would be fun to watch," Luke smiled.

"Give it to him then," Chandler urged.

Luke paused, "Take a breath," he warned as Tom started to pull back.

Luke held Tom's head firmly and pushed forward. Tom struggled, gagged, and then tried to swallow. Another three inches disappeared down his throat. He struggled harder and pounded Luke's legs. Luke pulled back.

"Fucking shit!" Tom coughed and gasped for air.

"You were close," Luke chuckled, "but you didn't take it all."

Tom wiped the tears that had formed. "Luke pushed his knob back into the boy's mouth. "All right, just the head then," he laughed.

Chandler watched as Luke did as promised and just pushed the first few inches in, pulled out, and did it again. "Use your tongue," Chandler suggested when Tom appeared to be growing tired.

"Like you could do better?" Tom snapped after pulling off the thing for a moment.

Chandler sat up, dismounted from the barrel and got down next to Tom.

"Like this," Chandler snipped, and gave the large knob a sensuous swipe.

Luke groaned.

Chandler did it again and took over where Tom had left off.

Soon Luke was fucking Chandler's mouth with increasing speed.

"That's the way to suck," Luke moaned as he pounded in and out of the younger boy.

Chandler pursed his lips and let Luke use his mouth as he wished. "Lick his hole," Chandler suggested to Tom when he paused to give Luke a couple of strokes.

Tom gave Chandler a perturbed look.

"Do it!" Chandler repeated and opened his mouth again.

Five minutes later, with his cock well inside Chandler's mouth and Tom's tongue licking at his hole, Luke shot his load.

"Oh fuuuuuuuuck!" he grunted, held Chandler's head firmly in place, shuddered, and held his breath.

Tom stopped what he was doing and pushed his finger up the boy's ass as he leaned around to watch what was happening up front.

Chandler swallowed, sucked, and swallowed again.

Luke moaned one last time, and was done.

Chandler licked the cream from the head, looked at Tom, and playfully stuck out his tongue. The white streak was clearly visible.

"You're such a show off," Tom sighed as he pulled his finger out and sat back.

Chandler peered up at Luke. "So who was better?" he grinned.

Luke looked at Tom and then back at Chandler. "Thatcher better take good care of you," Luke laughed.

"I knew it," Chandler giggled.

Tom rolled his eyes in defeat.

Thanks to Andrew, Jon B. and Danny for suggestions for this chapter. Write me at Playbuddy123@yahoo.com to offer your thoughts. Love to hear from readers, so write me. Thanks, Jon