Gift from the Sea Ch. 04

Sebastian had thought that the two had run out of double penetration positions, but this had been a new one. They were at anchor, preparing for a run into the harbor at Brindisi, Italy, on the east coast heel of the peninsula, having arrived earlier than their berthing time. All three were on the berth in the main cabin, Max, with his head at the forward end of the bed and Jurgen with his head at the aft end. Jurgen's thighs were on top of Max's, allowing their cocks to be bundled. Sebastian was crouched over their pelvises, skewered by both cocks, and he was doing the work of rising and falling on the staffs. He was positioned sideways, facing the outer side of the berth. Jurgen had a hand on his buttocks, helping to guide his rise and fall, and Max was fisting Sebastian's cock.

Although the position was new, double fucking wasn't, and the three had developed this into a science since sailing away from Malta. They talked each other in, seeking a three-way mutual ejaculation, and coming as close as they ever had to achieving one. Jurgen, the more virile of the two Nordic hunks, retained his hard and had shown he was capable of seconds without going soft and having to build up again, so it was up to Max to disengage and go see to the anchor and start the sail into port.

Sebastian swiveled around, facing Jurgen's head, and Jurgen grasped his waist and lifted him on and off the cock in the cowboy position until he produced his secondary ejaculation. Still saddled on the Swede's cock, which was the longer of the two Nordic friends, Sebastian lowered his body on Jurgen's. This brought his face to where, turned to the hull, he could see out a porthole. What he saw was another sailing yacht, pulling up even with Jurgen and Max's Little Harbor 75. It was even longer and sleeker than this yacht.

"Sweet," Sebastian said, admiring the lines of the other sailing yacht. "A Cooksan Performance. Nearly a hundred feet."

Jurgen turned his head. "Ah, yes. The Greta. We run into it occasionally. You'd like Carlos. He's got nearly a foot of cock."

There was a dark man of forty-plus years on the deck of the other yacht. He was lean, swarthy, hirsute--dark skinned, but not African. Sebastian gauged him to be Spanish. If so, he probably was Carlos. There were a couple of other sailors moving around on the deck and a third at the helm, but Carlos was the one not doing any work, so by deduction...

"That's Carlos on the deck waving over here at Max," Jurgen said, closing out any mystery. "That's Greta, the woman sunning herself on top of the cabin, giving her tits a breath of fresh air."

Sebastian looked at the woman. She looked closer to fifty than forty. Her body was in good shape but there was a strong hint that plastic surgeons had a lot to say about that. She had a hard-looking face, although he supposed the newspapers would consider it beautiful when she had her war paint on, had an evening gown plastered to her body, and was snapped at a charity dinner opening.

"Carlos looks sexy--and capable," Sebastian said.

Jurgen laughed, knowing that the young man's eyes had slid right off the woman and gone to the man. "The Speedo hardly holds him in, does it? Interested?"

"I could be," Sebastian answered.

"He's old."

"As long as he's hung and can keep it up," Sebastian responded. Jurgen laughed.

Jurgen's voice then turned more serious. "You know that after Brindisi we sail up to Venice where we winter the boat. Then Max goes back to Hamburg and I go to Stockholm for the winter. We both have jobs we attend to when it's not summer and we're sailing."

"No, I didn't know that," Sebastian answered. "We hadn't talked about that."

"There's a ship here in Brindisi. An old passenger ship. It's a casino now called Benito's. Anchors just in international waters of the coast. It's a brothel too. Male-with-male prostitutes as well as other mixes. We could take you out there tonight. I mean you were with the House of Li. You were OK with that, weren't you?"

"That's an idea," Sebastian said. He didn't have to be hit over the head with a club. The party with the Nordic hunks was coming to a close. He wasn't being invited to go to either Hamburg or Stockholm. Both cities were on the water, so neither was out of the question with Sebastian. He had to be near or on the sea. But he wasn't even being invited to sail on from here to Venice. The guys must have run out of double penetration positions.

"It's been fun," he whispered, to signal that he understood and accepted.

"Yes, it has. You're a sweet lay. A real gift from the sea," Jurgen answered. "And speaking of--"

"Yes, I feel you. You get it up faster than most every man I've known."

Jurgen took that as both a compliment and a challenge. He turned Sebastian from front to back on his cock, a tribute to just how long he was, with Sebastian now stretched on his back on top of Jurgen's front. Jurgen laced his arms under Sebastian's pits, trapping Sebastian's arms above his head, and he laced his legs through Sebastian's and raised and spread the young man' legs.

"Fuck yourself," he muttered, and, in a crab position, Sebastian began raising and lowering his ass on the hard cock, ready to cream him for a third time within the hour--taking a farewell fuck.

Sebastian's eyes went to the porthole and he watched the sexy Spaniard on the deck of the other vessel, the longer, sleeker Cookson Performance, as it sailed alongside them, bound for the Brindisi harbor. If what Jurgen had suggested was true, the man's cock also was longer than Sebastian was getting on the Little Harbor 75. Jurgen also hinted that the man gave cock to other men. Where, then, did the woman, Greta, fit into the picture?

Just then, though, Jurgen took over the fuck and went into overdrive, and the working of his cock, stroking hard and deep inside Sebastian, was all that the young man was able to concentrate on.

* * * *

"Sebastian, let me introduce you to Carlos Mendosa. He was on that yacht, the Greta, that raced us into harbor today," Jurgen said as he and the handsome Spaniard Sebastian had seen earlier in the day came up to them. They were in the salon of Benito's, the casino ship beyond national limits, off Brindisi.

The man, still looking a bit over forty, but, up close, looking even sexier in a tuxedo, and swarthier and more mysterious than he had standing on the deck of the Greta and waving to Max. He had a dark-haired five-o'clock shadow that looked perpetual no matter how often he shaved, but on him it looked good--more than good. His hair was black and curly, with a lock dipping down on his forehead. The graying at his temples made him look distinguished. He had one gold loop earring and several heavy gold rings on fingers that were long, the knuckles covered with curly black hair.

His eyes were black, piercing, and giving the suggestion that they were undressing you when he looked at you. Certainly, everything he was showing to Sebastian indicated he could eat Sebastian alive.

When Carlos reached out to shake Sebastian's hand, he didn't let loose of the young man's hand, folding his middle finger, which had a heavy gold ring on it, under and rubbing it against Sebastian's palm. He was signaling he was a top and checking Sebastian's willingness to submit, which Sebastian quickly did signal by loosely wrapping his fingers around Carlos's middle finger while Carlos continued to move his finger in and out in the sheath. Carlos smiled at him in recognition that they had established interest, compatibility, and willingness.

Jurgen left the two together. Neither Jurgen nor Max had said they would arrange this meeting, but Sebastian was sure they had--and that they were giving him a chance to get on board the ninety-five-foot Cookson Performance luxury yacht for further adventures.

Carlos didn't bother to mince words. "Jurgen and Max tell me that you like the cut of my yacht, the Greta."

"Yes. It's a Cookson Performance," Sebastian said. "A real honey of a sailing yacht."

"They also said you are a male whore--that you take cock and that you are looking for a new protector. We're sailing into the eastern Mediterranean, Turkey next. We'll bypass Greece. If you let me cover you during the cruise, I'll let you sail with us."

"I've never been to Greece," Sebastian said. "I intend to go there someday, though."

The hint was rejected. "I can't land in Greece," was all he said as explanation. He immediately followed that up with, "They tell me that you are good at taking cock--in fact that they double you. I, of course, will require a sample before agreeing to take you on the cruise--that is, if you are interested in sailing with me."

Sebastian stood his ground. "They tell me that you are a foot long. I do like big cock."

"That's an exaggeration," Carlos said, with a laugh. "But not by much. I feel like getting a breath of air. There must be some private nooks and crannies on this ship."

"Yes, there must be," Sebastian said. "Shall we look for them?" He wasn't all that worried. This Carlos seemed a prospect worth pursuing, but he wasn't the only option Sebastian had. Benito, owner of this floating casino and brothel, had offered to buy him from Jurgen and Max as soon as they had boarded the ship and it had been made clear to him that Sebastian was a male prostitute. But Jurgen and Max had done the right thing--they had said Sebastian was a free agent and could answer for himself.

"But if he decides to sign on with you, we'd be happy to take a finder's fee," Jurgen said. There wasn't any nervous laughter. They all knew he was serious.

Benito turned his eyes expectantly on Sebastian.

"I think these two have enough money," he said, and then all did laugh politely.

Sebastian had gotten the impression that if they'd agreed to sell him, the pimp would have made the deal and he would be trapped on the tug and enslaved. He was a little leery this might happen even if he accepted Benito's very generous offer. But at least it was an option. Sebastian didn't much relish the idea of being virtually a sex slave on a stationary ship in international waters. That left Carlos as an option.

Carlos fucked him and fucked him hard, near the stern of the ship on an iron staircase in the shadows leading up to the next level. He had Sebastian naked--because he wanted to see all that was on offer--and backed into the staircase.

"Let me see your bare ass," Carlos said when they'd walked into the shadows by the staircase. "And your balls. Let me see your balls. And let's see how well you suck cock."

Carlos was trouserless and his shirt was open, revealing that he was lean, but muscular, and hirsute. He was crouched over Sebastian and had the young man in a lip lock, as Sebastian wanted to scream from how the Spaniard was punishing his rim with the gold rings he had on the fingers buried in Sebastian's ass.

Carlos went down on his knees, hooked Sebastian's legs over his shoulders, and sucked Sebastian's cock before moving down and eating his ass out. He was efficient, experienced, and effective, and Sebastian had no trouble moaning for him. What Sebastian did have trouble with, though, was that Carlos then stood and towered over Sebastian as he sat on the stair tread. The man presented a cock that made Sebastian groan and almost hyperventilate as the affirmation that it was as long as advertised. Carlos also wasn't delicate with it. He wanted to be deep-throated, which Sebastian didn't think any man would be capable of. He brutally forced it between Sebastian's lips, dug his hands into Sebastian's hair, and worked at controlling Sebastian, gagging and gasping for air as much as he could, to take all of it.

Sebastian wasn't without experience in what to do in this eventuality, although Carlos was cruelly face fucking him. The young man managed to disengage and turn on the stairs, giving Carlos a luscious rear entry to work with. In high heat, Carlos accepted what was offered, covering Sebastian from behind, as the young man was draped up the iron stair treads, mounting him with some effort, as it took a long time and effort for him to bottom out in Sebastian's channel and he insisted on doing so before he began the pumping, and he fucked the shit out of Sebastian.

Afterward, as they sprawled beside each other on the staircase, Benito came by, backed up by one of his beefy bodyguards.

"You two finding everything you need?" the pimp said dryly.

"We're doing fine," Carlos said. "I was just extending an invitation to the young man to take a sail with me to the eastern Med."

"Sebastian?" Benito asked, looking at the young man. "I was planning to show you the cabin that could be yours. It's one of our best ones."

"Thanks, but I was just accepting Mr. Mendosa's invitation to show me Turkey."

As if to punctuate the dismissal, Carlos pressed his chest into Sebastian's, turning his back to Benito and his bodyguard, and resumed fucking the young man in long, slow strokes, as Sebastian hooked his legs on Carlos's hips, arched his head back, and yawned into a deep moan.

"What happens on my ship is still subject to a house fee," Benito said to Mendosa's undulating back. "Be so kind as to check in with the cashier before leaving, Mr. Mendosa." Then he turned and faded back into the darkness.

* * * *

The next morning, the Greta was anchored off the harbor of Brindisi when Jurgen and Max's Little Harbor 75 sailed out of the harbor and turned north, to follow the eastern Italian coast up to its winter berth in Venice. Sebastian, naked, was on his stomach, his pelvis slightly raised, on a towel on the cabin roof of the Greta. Carlos was mounted on his ass, fucking him hard and deep, as he had done in one of the Greta's guest cabins through much of the night. He obviously really liked face fucking men with his gigantic tool, and Sebastian took as much of that as he could while keeping Carlos interested in having him aboard.

The older woman, Greta, was somewhere, tanned to the point of her skin looking like brown shoe leather, and wandering around on the deck below them in bikini bottoms. Sebastian's face was turned to where he could watch the Little Harbor 75 put out to sea and Max and Jurgen, in skimpy Speedos, dancing around on deck in a nicely choreographed performance of efficiently getting the sailing yacht moving along the desired track.

Sebastian would have waved good-bye to them, except that Carlos had his arms painfully folded behind his back as he pumped Sebastian's ass with his eleven incher. When Max and Jurgen's boat was out of view, Carlos came in a flood of cum, rolled off Sebastian's back, and slapped him on the rump.

"Very nice. We'll have smooth sailing to Turkey. The cabin we fucked in last night is yours. As you saw it's got its own head. Clean up and join us in the fantail for lunch. No need to wear anything. Or a Speedo at the most. There are Speedos in the drawers in your cabin. You should know. I'm highly sexed. I'm going to be fucking you a lot--all over the ship. Max and Jurgen said you like that."

"Yes, I like that," Sebastian answered. "But the woman, your..."

Sebastian didn't quite know how to account for the woman or how to act around her.

"Greta? She's fine with it. I'm her escort. She likes to have a man taking her places. We're not married. But this is her yacht and we sail on her money. She gives me latitude, so just be deferential to her. If she needs fucked, I'll fuck her. You needn't do anything with her. In fact, you try to cut in on her, and I'll castrate you and throw you overboard. Got that?"

"Got that," Sebastian answered. And it was OK with him. No one talked to Greta concerning whether it was OK with her, though. She put the moves on Sebastian as they were sailing through the Greek Isles and Carlos was temporarily under the weather--not wanting to even come out of his cabin while they were in Greek waters. But, scared at what Carlos would do if he found out, Sebastian put her off as politely as he could. It apparently wasn't polite enough with Greta, though. As they approached the Turkish coast, her frustration turned into animus--and there wasn't a thing Sebastian could think of to do about that.