Cruising Cruise

I hadn't ridden Carl very long, though, before he was awake enough and aware enough of my presence to take control. He pulled my back down into his torso, an arm coming over my shoulder and his hand grasping my pec, and he took over thrusting up inside me while jacking me off with his other hand. The position was one I'd learned was called the Pearly Gates, and I went into it easily, giving control over to him. I took over control again by moving into the position of the Crab, supporting myself over him, legs bent and feet on the mattress on the outside of his thighs and my fists buried in the mattress outside of his shoulders. From this position, we worked together to a mutual ejaculation, me rising and falling on his cock and he thrusting up into me and grasping my shaft with a hand and jacking me off as we mounted together in a mutual explosion.

Afterward, lying there beside each other and panting, Carl whispered, "You came back."

"Right on schedule," I answered.

"I wasn't sure you would. You didn't tell me when you'd get here—or how."

"I flew up from Miami to Atlantic City. Took a taxi here. The plane was getting in real late. I didn't want you to have to pick me up. And I wanted you. I wanted to surprise you like this."

"Well, you succeeded in surprising me."

"And, I think, making you happy to see me from how quickly you've gotten it up again." I had stroked him to another erection.

"Got that right," Carl growled, as he rolled over on top of me, put me on my belly, grasped my wrists, and bowed my torso back. He saddled himself on my buttocks, thrust up inside me, and fucked me in what I had learned was called a Prison Guard position. I wondered if he had a name for it. I knew it was one that signaled total control over the one you were fucking, and I was happy with the knowledge that Carl was my master and I was his slave.

The next morning, I found him sitting at the kitchen counter and nursing a cup of coffee. He'd had maybe half a dozen eggs and a rack of bacon, recovering from an unexpected workout the previous night. He didn't look nearly as happy as I thought he would.

"You've learned some tricks while you were gone," he said, as I dropped a couple of slices of broad into the toaster and poured myself a cup of coffee.

"Yes, I have. Do you mind?"

"No, of course not," he answered.

"You seem bothered by something. Have I become too much of a slut for you? Are you mad that I took off to do cruising on a cruise this summer?"

"No, it isn't that. It's good to have you back. I was scared you wouldn't come back to me."

"I'll always come back to you, Carl. What is it then?"

"It's the charter boat—the business. Sam has a buyer for the boat and I haven't scraped up enough money for a down payment to take it on. Sam said he'd prefer to sell to me, but it's taken too long. He needs to sell. I've lost the business."

"How much are you lacking on the down payment?" I asked.

"Twelve grand."

"No problem," I answered. And it wouldn't be a problem. I'd come home from the cruise cruising summer job in the Caribbean with sixteen K. I could handle it easily. There for a while it had appeared I wouldn't be able to handle it at all. I was taking on the sex—and demanding and punishing sex—much too quickly. Tony Castilain had brought me back from the edge. The encounter with Oleg, the Russian oligarch's son, had been the height of the danger. I had escaped him myself in that mega yacht off the Cayman Islands coast early in that first cruise—but Tony had given me the support I needed that saved me.

After whipping and fucking me on the X-frame, Oleg had freed me, messed with me a bit on the bed, and then gone to sleep. I had learned to ride the jet ski well enough earlier in the day and managed to get to one and get it launched without any of Oleg's crew members or guests stopping me. I jet skied back to The King Neptune. Tony took over from there, having one of the cruise ship's shuttles take the jet ski into the George Town harbor and leaving it there for Oleg's crew to think that's where I'd gone, and then confining me to my cabin until the cruise ship moved on to its next port.

Then Tony sat me aside and asked me if I wanted to leave the cruise—take what I had made so far and go home. Or did I want to calm it all down, not be so intent on killing myself in earning top dollar, and settling in to a less-taxing routine for the full two cruises.

"Listen, you're the sexiest piece we've got. You don't make me money, though, if you burn yourself out," he'd said. He then reiterated that I didn't have to take golden-chip work if I didn't want to. He saved me. I ratcheted my work down and stayed on. By the second cruise I was even able to work in some golden-chip work again and had become expert in gauging which men would be dangerous and which ones would not. I even became happy with working with the older men who couldn't manage much sexually but who wanted the companionship with younger men.

It wouldn't be too much longer than that would be the plight of "Uncle" Carl—being too old to be highly active sexually with younger men but in need of a more enduring relationship. I'd had worries about that before this summer. I no longer did. I might find other men for sex, but I'd always be with Carl for companionship.

"I've got the money we need to keep the business," I said. "And note that I said 'we.' We'll be partners in this as well as in life."

"And the summer cruise work in the Caribbean?" Carl asked.

"I can leave that to others. I start college in a month, and I'll do some work at Manny's again to get my exhibitionist jollies scratched. But beyond that, it will be you, the charter boat, and churning through the waves of the Atlantic in our boat."