Boys in the King's Navy By Bill
Place: Off the northwest coast of France Time: 1807, during the Napoleonic Wars
The HMS Apollo had only been out of the Portsmouth Shipyard for 3 days when she encountered her first action. An armed merchant ship was spotted, heading toward the French harbor of Brest, trying to run the British blockade. Everyone aboard the Apollo, from the captain all the way down to the youngest ship's boy, was thinking one thing -- prize money! If the ship could be captured intact, and especially if it were carrying a valuable cargo, the proceeds from its sale would nicely supplement their meager pay from the Royal Navy.
The full complement of 285 officers, seamen, marines, and boys was aboard the Apollo and in good spirits, ready for the battle. The veterans of the warship's previous 3-month cruise had just finished enjoying the luxury of 2 weeks of shore-leave in England while the swift frigate was being repaired, refitted, and supplied. Replacement crew members had been taken aboard to fill gaps caused by deaths and serious injuries in battle, debilitating sickness, and the inevitable desertions.
Drums sounded the beat-to-quarters, calling the men and boys to their battle stations as soon as the French ship was identified. Sails and spars were set for fighting; marines took their sharpshooter positions in the rigging; the majority of sailors ran to the gun deck to prepare the 28 cannons for action; and the boys -- "powder monkeys" they were called -- raced to get cartridges of gunpowder from the powder magazine below-decks, delivering them into the spark-proof boxes next to each of the 18-pounder cannons. It was summertime, and all the men and boys on the gun-deck had stripped off their shirts in preparation for the literal heat of battle.
As usual, Benjamin Kitts was the first boy up to gun deck with his powder, running barefoot at full speed, weaving among obstacles and crewmembers along a route he'd traveled so many times that he no longer gave it conscious thought. The 14-year-old was a "ship's boy first-class", the longest serving of the current group of powder monkeys and their informal leader. He was pleasing to the eye; short of stature but solidly built; no longer the skinny waif he'd been when he arrived on the Apollo. His voice had just recently signaled its intent to change, and his body showed some clear signs of his emerging adolescence.
As Benjamin made his deliveries of gunpowder, he scoffed at how slow and clumsy the new boys were in carrying out their duties. But he felt a soft spot for the new lads too. He'd been in their place once, coming aboard ship for the first time, confused and scared. Like some of the other ship's boys, he'd been sold to the Royal Navy at the age of 11 by the workhouse for orphans and cast-offs where he'd grown up. The son of a prostitute and God--knows-which of her customers, he'd been a toddler when he was dropped off at St. Katharine's Refuge for Boys (AKA St. Kitt's). Arriving there with a first name but not a last one, Benjamin was assigned the surname "Kitts".
When the powder boxes were filled and the battle loomed, Benjamin stood at his station, ready to begin his run to the magazine again as soon as the shooting started. He watched as the ship's gunner moved down the line of cannons on the side that would fire first, checking their angle of elevation and shouting out orders. Amid the noise and activity, a burly sailor came over to stand next to the boy. It was Big Murphy (so named to differentiate him from fellow crew-members who went by Old Murphy and One-Eye Murphy).
"Kitts, me lad!" murmured the muscular Irishman in a voice barely audible amid the dim. "Hows about I do you tonight, down in the rope locker? I haven't fucked your pretty bum in a dog's age." He reached over and gave Benjamin's butt a quick grope.
Benjamin glanced up at the big man's face with a look of disdain, but said nothing.
"I'll do ya whether you like it or not... and don't try to fight me this time," said the sailor, his voice taking on a threatening tone. "After evening meal; in the rope locker. You best be there, matey."
Benjamin still said nothing. It wouldn't have done any good. The last time Murphy had accosted him for sex, the boy had tried to kick him in the balls, but he'd missed. The only things resistance had gotten him were a hammering punch to the belly, his arm twisted painfully behind his back, and an even more brutish ass-reaming than usual by the Irishman's obscenely-long and unnaturally-thick cock.
Sexual activity aboard the ship was technically illegal. But it was generally understood that consensual activities, engaged in discretely, would be tolerated. And while the rape of a ship's boy could be punished severely, there was a code of silence among the crew, and boys almost always kept quiet about such things. Moreover, the ancient traditions of shipboard culture dictated that a ship's boy would provide sexual relief to sailors during the long months at sea. Not only that, but sex-play between two or more ship's boys was so widely accepted that it was carried out openly in the crew's quarters... often instigated and watched by sailors for their voyeuristic amusement.
Most of the men aboard the Apollo were good-natured... even flirtatious... in vying for sexual favors from the boys, and Benjamin was often sought after. He not only tolerated this duty but enjoyed it as well... at least most of the time. When he'd come aboard 3 years before, he was already well-accustomed to providing sexual service to the older boys and adult warders at the workhouse... and engaging in frequent sex-play with his peers and the younger boys.
But Benjamin didn't let his mind get distracted by thoughts of sex. There was a battle looming.
As the Apollo maneuvered for battle, the captain managed to get to the rear of, and perpendicular to, the slower merchantman. The order for a rolling broadside, aimed upward at the ship's masts and rigging, was intended to cripple the French ship and cause its surrender without any damage being done to the hull. (If the ship had to be pounded into submission, there would be less prize money; none at all if the ship sank.) The sound erupting from the 14 cannons was deafening, and the effects devastating, taking out spars, ripping through sails, and wounding sailors on-deck. But when no surrender was forthcoming, and a well-aimed shot from the French ship's aft gun hit home, the Apollo came around to blast away at the merchantman's side.
Controlled pandemonium ensued as the two ships fired at each other. The enemy ship was distinctly inferior to Apollo in fire-power and the shooting skills of the crew, but the French were doing damage too. While Benjamin was below-decks getting more gunpowder, a lucky shot from the merchantman entered through a gun port, glancing off port's edge and spraying large splinters through the crowded gun deck as the heavy cannonball careened about.
When Benjamin ran up with his bucket of powder cartridges, he almost lost his footing on the blood pooling beside the lifeless body of Big Murphy. A sharp splinter as long and thick as the sailor's arm had pieced his groin, and the man quickly bled-out where he lay. Benjamin didn't have time to gloat over the irony of the fatal emasculation as he climbed over the body, dropped off the powder charges, and made his way back to the magazine. When he got there, he spotted a boy cowering in the corner, shaken by the sights and sounds of the gun-deck.
"Hey, mate!" shouted Benjamin. "Get moving!" He tried to remember the kid's name. He'd just come aboard 3 days before in Portsmouth... a slight boy of 12 years and totally new to life on a ship. "If an officer sees you like this you'll be in big trouble." Benjamin felt a duty to the ship, as well as a responsibility as the most-senior powder monkey, but he wasn't going to hang around talking while the battle still raged, two decks above.
By the time he got back to the gun-deck, however, the battle was over, and the men and boys were cheering. Only one crewmember had died, though three others were injured seriously enough to be taken to the ship's surgeon. But there was still work to be done, and the crew scurried about securing cannons, clearing away the damage, and washing the blood from the deck. On the main-deck a small crew was departing to board the merchantman to sail the prize and the prisoners back to England.
When there was a call for "all hands on deck", Benjamin went up with the others and assembled in his proper place. The officers stood on the quarter-deck, above the crew. Captain Westmoreland congratulated the men on the battle, and a cheer went up from the crew when he hinted that good prize money would be waiting when they returned to port in a few months time. And after he ordered a double-ration of grog at the evening meal, an even louder cheer went up. But when the cheering settled, the captain took on a grave countenance and voice.
"Lastly, I regret to be informed that two of your fellows were cowardly in battle. Both are new to the King's Navy, and I shall be lenient, but I will deal with them promptly. Bosun, bring the accused forward."
A seaman and a boy -- the boy Benjamin had shouted at in the powder magazine -- were brought out to face the crew.
The captain looked at a piece of paper and intoned: "Ordinary Seaman Robinson... I find you guilty of cowardice in battle. You are sentenced to receive 20 lashes with the cat on your bare back, administered by Bosun's Mate Whitney in the presence of the ship's men, to be observed and recorded in the log by the First Lieutenant."
The captain looked down at the paper again. "Ship's Boy Third-Class Spitalfields...." He paused and muttered under his breath to the lieutenant beside him "why DO the workhouses give these whore-spawn such god-awful surnames?" He cleared his throat and resumed. "Ship's Boy Third-Class Spitalfields... I find you guilty of cowardice in battle. You are sentenced to receive 12 lashes, administered in the usual way for boys, by Bosun's Mate Simmons in the presence of the ship's boys, to be observed and recorded in the log by...." He looked over at the officers assembled beside him on the aft deck. "By Midshipman Grosvenor."
Chauncey Grosvenor was surprised to get the assignment, and he blushed when it seemed that everyone was staring at him. He was himself new to the ship and to sea... at 14 years old, the youngest midshipman aboard. He saluted the captain smartly and then whispered to an older midshipman to ask what he needed to do. Chauncey was a somewhat effete upper-class boy, but he was strikingly attractive, with curly blond hair spilling from beneath his midshipman's hat. As the younger son of an aristocrat, it had been determined that his career would be in the Navy. His uniform was perfectly tailored, showing both his family's wealth and the boy's well-formed adolescent body.
"That will be all," said the captain, who headed down to his cabin before the floggings began. When he passed by Chauncey, he gave the boy a slight smile and a wink. The assignment was meant to flatter the boy, a conscious step in grooming him for seduction. As he entered his cabin, the captain was thinking to himself: What an extraordinary beauty he is! What a true pleasure it will be to take him. It shan't be long before I invite the lad down here for some brandy and conversation, spark his lust by showing him my collection of pornographic engravings... ah, and then to get into those wonderfully tight britches.... I do hope his cock is as beautiful as the rest of him.' Captain Westmoreland latched his cabin door and unbuttoned his britches, freeing his stiffening penis and taking it in his hand. Yes; it will be such a pleasure to seduce him.'
On the main-deck, Bonsun's Mate Simmons turned to Benjamin. "Kitts -- you'll attend the prisoner. Here's the bit, if he needs it." He handed Benjamin a short, slender length of wooden dowel, covered in leather. In his other hand, Simmons held a red cloth bag that contained the whip he'd be using. The "boy's cat" was a tamer version of the infamous cat-o-nine-tails. This cat had only five tails, used thinner whipcord than its big brother, and lacked the knotted ends that pierced flesh more easily. It was still formidable, however, and a boy didn't soon forget the pain of a flogging.
The ship's boys - twelve in all, aged 11 to 14 - hurried down the companionway. They were smiling and whispering to each other excitedly... clearly enjoying the prospect of watching the punishment of a disgraced peer.
"What's going to happen to me?" murmured the hapless boy.
"Well, Davey," said Benjamin, remembering the boy's name; "did you ever hear of `fucking the gunner's daughter'?" The younger boy shook his head in puzzlement at the apparent non-sequitur. "So, do you know what 'fucking' is?" Benjamin inquired.
"Sure. It's when a boy takes a stiff willy up his bum."
"Yeah; that's it," said Benjamin. "The gunner's daughter' means a cannon. When you're getting your licks, you gotta take off your britches and lie naked atop a cannon, like you was fucking it. You're lucky to get Old Simmons giving it to you, though. He's a right good bloke, and he'll lay on your licks quick-and-over-with." Simmons was also a considerate sex-partner, Benjamin thought to himself, but didn't mention it to Davey. "Just do like I say, and you'll get through alright. You need to make up for being a coward in the battle by taking the whipping right proper. The most important thing is to never cry out." He held up the leather-covered dowel to the boy. "You put this-here bit in your mouth and bite down hard while you're getting flogged. I'll hang on to it til you're ready."
When the group reached the gun-deck, the bosun's mate gestured to one of the cannons, using the whip as his pointer. "That there's your gunner's daughter. Get starkers, lad, so's you can give her a bonk."
Davey felt his heart racing as he glanced from the whip to the cannon, but he steeled himself as best he could. It comforted him to have Benjamin right there with him, and he was determined not to let the older boy down. Already shirtless and barefoot, Davey untied the rope holding up his over-sized trousers and they dropped to the deck. He stood completely naked, his body scrawny from years of inadequate food. Even without looking around, he knew that the eyes of every boy on the gun-deck were checking out his genitals. The 12-year-old's slender downward-pointing penis was of a respectable length for a pre-pubescent boy, and his slightly-dangling scrotum held balls that had been growing plumper in recent months.
Simmons was eying Davey's penis too, and said to him in a sarcastic tone: "Before you can fuck the gunner's daughter, you need to get your cock standing up." He turned to the increasingly boisterous boys behind him. "Don't he, lads?" The ship's boys laughed with approval and called out rude remarks, increasing Davey's humiliation. "Go on, lad. Get some wood in your pecker."
Davey turned to Benjamin, and the older boy nodded to indicate that the bosun's mate was indeed serious. With his face blushing deeply, Davey began moving his foreskin back and forth across the acorn-sized glans. The boy's penis twitched and gradually rose to an immature erection that was undeniably handsome, with the cock-head pushing out beyond the foreskin when Davey released it.
"That's it, lad. Now sit up here," said Simmons, patting the wide butt of the cannon barrel. "And lean forward to give your girlfriend a snog."
The lad clambered onto the cannon and lay down along it. His boyish boner pressed against the brass barrel that was still warm from having been fired five times in the recent combat. Benjamin, standing beside the cannon at Davey's head, put the bit in the boy's mouth and held down his arms at their skinny biceps. The middle-aged bosun's mate stood on the other side of the cannon and back from it, gauging the whip's reach.
Of all the boys on the gun-deck watching the proceedings, none was more captivated by the sight of Davey's naked body and erect penis than the 14-year-old wearing the fancy midshipman's uniform. Chauncey Grosvenor felt a combination of vicarious dread, voyeuristic excitement, and erotic arousal as he gazed at Davey's bare buttocks, exposed anus, and a glimpse of scrotum visible between his wide-spread legs. Bare-bottomed discipline at the hands of a teacher was familiar to any upper-class boy, whether administered with a slender cane, a bundle of birch branches, a whip, or a man's hand. Though he hadn't attended a boarding school, where canings of students were commonplace, Chauncey and his cousin had been privately tutored by a young university graduate at the Grosvenor family's country estate. Receiving the teacher's sexually- charged spankings, and watching his younger cousin get them, was a frequent occurrence. And now, as he waited for the whip to fall, Chauncey folded his hands in front of his crotch to hide the stiff erection pushing against his tight-fitting britches.
The bosun's mate raised his arm and brought the cat down hard. It whistled through the air before cracking sharply across Davey's slender buttocks. The boy grimaced and every muscle in his body tensed, but didn't utter a sound.
Rather than waiting 15 or 20 seconds before the next blow, thereby prolonging the agony, Simmons quickly brought the whip down again. But then he paused and looked over at Chauncey.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but shouldn't the observing officer be counting them out."
"Quite so, Mr. Simmons. That would be `two', then."
The cat whistled again.
"Three."
And the whip came down nine more times in less than a minute, leaving an overlapping array of parallel red stripes across the boy's up-raised butt.
Tears were running down Davey's cheeks when Benjamin removed the bit from the lad's mouth, but he hadn't uttered a sound. When he climbed off the cannon barrel, rubbing his tender bottom, his penis was still rigidly erect. Noticing it, he quickly put on his trousers.
Benjamin was the first to congratulate Davey, clapping him on the back. "Well done, mate!" And the other boys gathered round too, offering friendly praise to the new boy who had so recently been in disgrace.
"Alright, lads; time to get busy," said Simmons. "The cook will be starting on evening meal soon. Get along to the galley and be helpful. But don't go up on the main-deck for a time, until the flogging is done with." Simmons then looked to Chauncey. "By your leave, sir; I'll be tending to my duties as well."
"Permission granted," said the young officer, his aristocratic upbringing giving him total ease with being the superior of lesser-ranking adults. But what Chauncey did next didn't come quite as easily.
"Kitts; hold back a moment. The rest of you boys carry on."
"Yes sir," said Benjamin, giving the customary loose-handed palm-downward salute. Although they were the same age, Benjamin was shorter in stature and far less refined in manner and appearance than the handsome upper-class boy.
"I've been informed, Kitts, that you are considered the leader of the ship's boys. Is that correct?"
"I suppose so, sir. Been here longest of all the boys."
"I'm also informed by my peers that the boys aboard are, well, accommodating toward dalliances of a carnal nature."
Benjamin tried to process the words, but knew immediately that it was hopeless. "Beg pardon, sir, but I don't rightly know what you just asked me. Sorry, sir." Benjamin saluted again to reinforce his respectfulness.
Chauncey blushed a bit as he rephrased his words. "I, uh, have heard from the other midshipmen that the boys sometimes make themselves available to officers for, uh, that is, to be... er, buggered and whatnot."
"Oh, yes sir! That's a fact. It's the practice, though, sir, for an officer to give a farthing to the boy he's fucking." Benjamin got a seductive look in his eye, thinking that he'd enjoy a roll with the midshipman, even without the resulting money. His hand subtly rubbed across his crotch. "Were you thinking, sir, that you might like for me to...."
"I fancy that boy who was flogged. Spitalfields, I believe his name is."
"Yes, sir. He goes by `Davey', sir. I could set things up for you, quiet-like. Now if a farthing were to come my way in return for my trouble...."
"Yes, Kitts. That would be satisfactory."
"Well then, sir, come around to the crew's quarters at two- bells of the last dog-watch [7:00 p.m.], after the evening meal's been ett and the grog ration's poured. That's when there's some easy-time, and the men like to slip off to the rope locker with a boy for a bit of fun. You just look around for me, and I'll give you the high-sign if Davey will be your bum-boy."
"Jolly good!" said Chauncey, feeling the glow of anticipation.
The two boys went about their business -- Benjamin to the ship's galley; Chauncey up to the aft-deck to enter the flogging in the ship's log.
Several hours later, after Chauncey had eaten dinner with the other officers, he made his way to the crew's quarters. He left behind his fancy jacket and hat, and wore just a shirt and britches. The crew had finished their own meal, and had received their double-ration of watered-down rum. A fiddle and a pennywhistle were playing, and a circle at the center of the large room was cleared for performers of sailor dances. The open space was surrounded by crewmembers who were seated, kneeling, and standing outward from the circle. Every so often, a sailor and a ship's boy would discretely slip away together, headed in the direction of the rope locker.
As Chauncey hung back in the shadows, watching it all, he heard a sailor call out "Ain't it about time for some lads to get up and do the Hindoo dance?" Other sailors voiced their approval, some of them calling out "Kitts!" as Benjamin was nudged through the crowd into the circle. He polished off his half-ration of grog (which had been doubled to a full pint) and handed the empty mug to a sailor. The fiddler and the pennywhistler began to play a tune in an exotic-sounding key... an approximation of the music of India, where the Apollo had once been home-ported and where some of the men had served ashore for a time. Benjamin raised his arms above his head and moved his hands sensuously, while his hips swayed to the music. Though he'd never been to India himself, the dance was a tradition among the ship's boys, learned by each powder monkey not long after he came aboard.
In the warm air below-decks, Benjamin wore only his baggy trousers, held up with a rope that he had already loosened. As his suntanned torso swayed erotically in the dim light, it wasn't difficult to imagine Benjamin as a harem-boy in the court of a maharaja.
The waist of the trousers slid down as he danced, showing off the top of his butt-cleft and the distinct "V" of his lower abdominal muscles. "Take `em off!" came a call from a sailor, immediately endorsed by others. Benjamin reached down and loosened his rope-belt some more as he continued to dance, and the trousers slid even lower, showing the sparse growth of pubic hairs at the very base of his penis. They had only recently appeared, but he was enormously proud of this visible badge of advancing puberty. With a few more shakes of his hips, Benjamin's trousers slipped down completely and he stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
Now totally nude, with nearly a hundred pairs of eyes focused on him, Benjamin continued his exotic dance. He moved in a way that made his three-quarters-mature penis and his dangling ball-sack sway and bob enticingly. Though never touched, the penis began to lengthen, pulsing to erection. When it was fully stiff, the gorgeous young-teen cock pointed straight up, almost touching his lower belly. More than a few in the audience were fondling their own cocks through their loose trousers as they watched Benjamin dance erotically while sporting a full-on boner.
"Who ya gonna pick for a partner?" called out a sailor.
On their own, or nudged forward by the men around them, several of the boys in the room moved closer to the circle. Benjamin looked around at them, and called out "Jonesy!"
A sturdy lad of 13 years, the second-longest-serving of the ship's boys, came into the circle. He too was shirtless, and his trousers already sagged enough to show a swath of pale skin that was normally covered. He began dancing in the same manner as Benjamin, the two boys side by side. When his trousers fell to the floor, his penis was already erect... barely pubescent and totally hairless. The two of them now touched as they danced, their hands wandering over each other's naked bodies, stroking each other's young-teen boners or letting them rub together as if in a sword-fight.
When Benjamin put his hands on the other boy's shoulders and pressed down, Jonesy obediently sank to his knees. Amid the whistles and shouts of encouragement from the men, Jonesy took Benjamin's erection into his mouth. As his lips began moving up and down along the adolescent cock- shaft, he was sucking it a manner designed as much to appeal to the audience as to elicit pleasure from the blow- job's recipient. For his part, Benjamin made the act a sex-show as well, holding the other boy's scraggly hair back so that it didn't cover up the sucking mouth on the stiff cock.
After a couple of minutes of the pornographic show, Benjamin nudged Jonesy to his feet and said in a voice barely audible above the hubbub: "Jack me off standing behind."
The 13-year-old came around behind Benjamin, spooning their bodies front-to-back as his hands wrapped around Benjamin's slender frame. While one hand wandered over Benjamin's chest and belly, the other began stroking the boy's rigid erection. He didn't dawdle at the task, but jacked the penis in rapid and firm masturbation strokes. The loud groans coming from the older boy were only partially contrived, as he felt his orgasm quickly welling up. As Benjamin arched his back into Jonesy's chest and grunted with lust, a spurt of semen shot out of his cock and onto the deck, accompanied by a cheer from the men and boys watching. Several more squirts emerged, encouraged by the younger boy's expert masturbation, and then the two boys moved apart.
Benjamin's part of the show was over, and he found his trousers and put them back on. But the show continued without him, as Jonesy licked the cum off his fingers and beckoned another boy into the circle for more of the erotic display.
Sailors jostled to get next to Benjamin, eager for the chance to accompany him down to the rope-locker. But the boy put them off, and they all took his rejection in good spirit. Benjamin scanned the room to locate Davey and then brought him to where Chauncey had been waiting.
"By jove!" exclaimed the midshipman. "That was... I mean, I've never.... It was jolly good, Kitts!" Chauncey was wishing he had chosen Benjamin for his first ship-board sexual encounter. But then he looked at Davey, smiling sweetly at him, and his initial attraction to the boy flooded back.
"Davey'll be at you service, sir," said Benjamin; "ain't that right, lad?"
"Aye, sir," said the young boy in a cheerful high-pitched voice, as he saluted. Davey was no stranger to providing sexual service. Any boy who grew up in a workhouse was introduced to sex at an early age by older boys and the warders. At the workhouse in the Spitalfields neighborhood of London, it wasn't unheard of for the warders to prostitute their charges, selling their services to men from outside the workhouse who fancied having a go with a little boy.
Chauncey handed Benjamin a farthing, and the boy squeezed the small coin in his palm as he brought his fist up to salute. "Thank you kindly, sir." Then Benjamin spoke to Davey. "Take the midshipman down to the rope locker, lad, and take good care of his needs." Benjamin went off to decide which of the men would be his first of the evening. He glanced around the room trying to spot the handsome marine sharpshooter who'd come aboard 3 days earlier. Benjamin had always been attracted to men in the ship's detachment of Royal Marines.
Chauncey and Davey two slipped off together, heading toward the bow of the ship to the room just below the forecastle. The rope-locker had thick anchor-rope coiled in tall piles on the deck, and thinner lines hanging from the ceiling in long dangling loops to the floor. There were plenty of places where sexual activity could occur in semi-privacy; even more places for those who didn't mind being watched. The illusion of privacy was furthered by the room's dimness, lit by a single whale-oil lamp, its wick set low. Even after their eyes adjusted to the dark, Chauncey and Davey could only vaguely make out a few of the paired shapes... mostly men and boys, but sometimes two men together. There was no mistaking the sounds of sex, however -- the wet slurping noise of cocks being sucked; the slapping of skin against skin during vigorous fucking; the moans and grunts of carnal pleasure; and whimpers of boys having their assholes penetrated and pounded.
"Over here's a place, sir," whispered Davey as he took Chauncey by the hand and led him to a nook at the side. "What will you have me do, sir?"
Chauncey was totally aroused. His heart was beating so strongly in his chest that it seemed he could hear it. He took Davey into an embrace, running his hands across the boy's smooth warm back. He'd never had sex with a boy who was essentially a stranger, and certainly never in the same room as others having sex. In fact, Chauncey's only other sexual experiences had been his boyish sex-play with his younger cousin, and a few furtive but blazingly-erotic encounters with an older stable boy on his family's estate. "Kiss me, Davey," he whispered excitedly, as he brought his face down to the boy's and their lips touched. At the same time, his hands reached down to untie the lad's rope belt, letting the trousers drop at his ankles.
Davey didn't have much experience with kissing. Mostly it had been with men who slid their tongues into the boy's mouth during face-to-face fucking, as their orgasm neared. He immediately opened his mouth for Chauncey, offering his tongue.
The older boy was delighted to receive such an erotic kiss and pushed back with his own tongue. His cousin's kisses had always been far more chaste and tentative. But this was exactly what Chauncey wanted... the innocence of his sexual experiences with his pre-pubescent cousin, but with a promise of the rutting lust and scorching sexual heat that had characterized his encounters with the stable boy.
As their tongues wrestled aggressively, Chauncey reached back and felt Davey's buttocks with both hands. He could just barely make out the haphazardly-parallel welts rising up from the smooth skin. This stimulated him in ways that he didn't really understand, and he had always sought to get his cousin alone and naked whenever the younger boy had been disciplined, fondling and kissing his cousin's reddened butt-cheeks.
"Does it still hurt?" asked Chauncey in a whisper.
"Not much, sir," murmured the boy. It was still warm to the touch and throbbed a bit, but was no longer painful.
Chauncey brought a hand around to fondle Davey's penis, quickly bringing it erect. As he stroked the slender immature boner, Chauncey sucked the boy's tongue deeper into his mouth. The young midshipman's oral craving was strong, and he knew what her wanted - to take the boy's penis into his mouth. Sinking to his knees, hugging Davey's hips, Chauncey pulled the boy's crotch to his face and opened his mouth to capture the stiff little cock. His tongue danced around the compact glans, and then his lips slid all the way down the shaft. Ah! Perfect! Davey's erection was so similar to that of Chauncey's cousin, which he had sucked many times in their secret sex-play.
For his part, Davey was unaccustomed to having a sucking mouth on his cock, but he loved it! The older boy's lips and tongue... the suction of his mouth... felt ever so much better than when Davey gave himself a wank. The lad's delicate and high-pitched gasps of pleasure mingled with the lower tones coming from throughout the room. Davey began thrusting his hips rhythmically. The perfectly proportioned little boner -- slightly longer than Chauncey's middle finger and as thick as his thumb -- fucked into his mouth with increasing speed... and the adolescent boy was loving it! He unbuttoned his own britches, reached into his silk under-britches and began masturbating his stiff cock.
Although Davey could eventually have achieved a delicious dry orgasm had they continued this way, it was clear that satisfying the boy was not the purpose of this encounter. Chauncey stood up and pushed down on Davey's shoulders to bring the younger boy to his knees. The older boy's cock stood up rigid and achingly-horny.
"Suck it! Get me ready to bugger you."
The boy was well-versed in giving a suck, and as his hand wrapped around the base of Chauncey's adolescent erection, his mouth captured the sleek glans and pleasured it with his darting tongue, toying with the foreskin.
"Ahhh! That's it, boy! Suck it deep too!"
Davey was game for that. The midshipman's cock was average-sized for a young teenager, but slimmer and shorter than many of the men's cocks he'd sucked. Bobbing his head in a steady rhythmic pace, Davey took in a bit more of the shaft his each downward plunge, psyching himself mentally for the next step. Next time his lips slid down Chauncey's boner, they just kept going, all the way to where soft blond hairs sprouted at its base. Davey had willed his gag reflex into submission, and allowed the cock-head to slide into his throat.
"Oh, LORD!" murmured Chauncey, bringing his hands to the boy's head and pushing it down to force his cock even deeper before releasing it. Davey's head came back up, bobbing along the top half of the stiff penis again for several quick strokes before plunging all the way down once more, holding it there as his throat muscles massaged the invading cock-head. The boy knew he was good at this, and he delighted in how it pleased the young officer. He continued for several minutes, giving Chauncey a blow-job that was even more intense than the stable boy's efforts had been. Just before the craving for orgasm overwhelmed him and sent his cum down Davey's throat, Chauncey pulled the boy's head away.
"Shall I kneel down, sir, with my bum up?" Davey wiped a trail of saliva from his chin, and some snot from his nose.
"Yes," said Chauncey breathlessly. "Do it!"
Davey spit on his fingers and brought them back to his ass. Then he knelt down on the smooth wooden deck, his head resting on hands folded as if in prayer, with his slender buttocks raised high and wiggling invitingly. The red stripes left by the cat had nearly disappeared, but Chauncey greedily ran his hand over the butt-cheeks again. He felt a shiver of lust as he remembering the sight and sound of the whip punishing them.
Chauncey pushed his britches and underwear down to his ankles and knelt behind the boy. He'd never fucked his young cousin, who had whimpered in pain when he'd tried. But he knew from his experiences with the stable boy just how good it felt to sink his cock into a hot tight asshole. He pulled back the foreskin, positioned his cock-head, and thrust forward with his hips.
Davey dilated his anal muscle to accept the flared glans, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, but not making a sound. Once Chauncey's cock-head was inside, it would be easy sailing from here on. Davey relaxed his body and began to appreciate the familiar sensations of a stiff erection fucking back and forth in his ass. The throbbing soreness from his whipping merged in a surprisingly pleasurable way with array of erotic messages his brain was now receiving.
Meanwhile, Chauncey's mind and body were on a collision course. His brain was saying `slow down; make it last', but his tumescent penis was demanding its orgasm as rapidly as possible. Not surprisingly the cock won, and Chauncey's hips began to buck rapidly in response to his craving for sexual release. The teenager's erection plowed the younger boy's tight asshole and rectum, hard and fast.
Davey knew it wouldn't last long, and he bore down hard on the cock sliding in and out of him, making his asshole wonderfully tight.
Chauncey wanted to shout his passion out loud, and it was all he could do to restrain himself. But as his adolescent stunk spurted deep into the boy's guts, he murmured "Ahhh! Hellfire and damnation!" It was as much of a curse as his refined sensibilities allowed. When the thrusting stopped, he kept his spasming cock deeply embedded in Davey's chute, his body awash in carnal pleasure. And the younger boy kept enhancing the experience, squeezing his anal muscles around the cock... a technique that pleased Davey as well.
When Chancey finally pulled out, he turned Davey around to face him. They kissed again, both on their knees, locked in a powerful embrace.
"That was absolutely smashing!" murmured Chauncey in the boy's ear.
They stood, quickly arranged their clothing, and slipped out of the dimly-lit den of sexuality... both of them knowing that a return visit would soon be forthcoming. Chauncey pressed a ha'penny into Davey's hand.
"Thank you kindly, sir!" said the boy, grinning broadly and saluting.
As they began to make their way back to the crew's quarters, they ran headlong into Benjamin and a marine corporal, walking toward the rope locker. The man's crimson uniform jacket was unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of his smooth and finely-muscled torso. Both of them saluted the midshipman, and as they passed in the narrow passageway, the corporal gave Chauncey a sly wink, as Benjamin and Davey grinned at each other knowingly.
End of Part 1 Want more? Write to me at bil47_new@yahoo.com