The Crew 5 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com
If you enjoy these stories, please consider giving a donation to Nifty.
The Captain introduced Eustace to every possible sexual activity two men could indulge in, except for fucking. I asked him about that later. "Odd Duck, I just didn't think he was ready for that yet." The Captain replied. "Virgins are like fine wine. You don't want to uncork them too early."
"Our voyage is more than half over," I said. "There may not be another opportunity."
"I don't need to fuck him," the Captain replied. "I don't want to hurt him. It's better to do nothing than have him frightened of sex for the rest of his life."
I respected his viewpoint. The Captain liked sex with men, but he wasn't willing to hurt a playmate for his own lusts. I was also pleased he had thought I was ready when he first fucked me.
The next day we did our business in Jamaica and then were off to New Orleans. Eustace left us there. He took the train to Chicago. We were only there for a day. We then had a fast trip to New York. We were to make a delivery for the Edison Company. Our earlier voyages for the Edison Company had been a success. They placed a high value on promptness and efficiency.
American electrical and telephone companies were trying to corner the South American market. British, French and German companies were after their business too. Our clients wanted fast modern ships. We could provide that service. Our ship was both the fastest and the most modern serving South America. We provided a modern and up to date image for the company. Our Captain was a stickler for detail and efficiency. He had also taken time to acquaint himself with the needs of transporting delicate electrical equipment. Our crew could load and unload without a bump or jiggle.
We picked up our cargo in New York and then we were going to Venezuela. We had a full complement of passengers too. There was one engineer from the Edison Company. They already had a crew in Caracas getting things ready there. The remainder of the passengers was an expedition from the National Geographic Society. They were to explore the jungles of southern Venezuela. The Bell Telephone Company was one of our clients, and the Bells were among the founders of the Society.
I had never heard of the Society, but Bell was one of the great geniuses of our age. Col. Henry Capeheart led the expedition. He was a well-known explorer. Col. Capeheart was a well-known ladies' man and he was often seen escorting some of the great beauties of the day. The men he associated with were hearty types. I discovered that Stackpool's friends had very different tastes.
They were a large party so I returned to the cabin next to the boiler room. I associated mostly with the junior members of the group, Stackpool Mills, a photographer, his assistant, Alexander, and a cartographer, Louis Small. Sometimes the expedition's secretary Wistar Holland joined us. They were all congenial and interesting men. Their job was to document and record the expedition's finds. Wistar explained to me that the thrill of discovery sometimes led to short changing the recoding of those discoveries.
I had a vision of explorers was romantic figures and bold adventurers. These men were hard working professionals deeply committed to their work. They were hardy and committed to their difficult work, but they were not men suited for romance novels. With the exception of Capeheart, they weren't handsome or elegant. I could see myself in their role, but brave acts of daring do were not part of my personality.
Stackpool was a solid man who looked more like a blacksmith then an artistic and skilled photographer. He was talented and some of his photographs were stunning. Stackpool visited my boiler room and liked what he saw. By now, my understanding of men and their desires was well advanced. I recognized that Stackpool's interest in my naked stokers was not only artistic. Stackpool took photographs of them for his own personal collection.
Stackpool seemed to know I was interested in men. I was wearing a lightweight shirt and similar pants. Of course, I was drenched in sweat. The cloth was clinging to my body. "You are a fine figure of a man," Stackpool said as he looked at me and my crotch. "Your finest feature is hidden by your pants!" I must have blushed a little. "I take it you aren't at all embarrassed in the showers. If I had your equipment I would join the natives and go naked too." As he talked he unbuttoned my shirt, and then unfastened my belt.
"Some primitive tribes think that a man's strength is in his balls and sperm. They think that by eating another man's sperm you acquire his strength," Stackpool continued. By now, he had cupped my balls in his hand. He seemed to be weighing them. "A year ago I was in a rather wild rite where the aborigines were exchanging seed."
"Did you participate?" I asked.
"Of course I did. It would have been rude not to join in the festival!" he said. "You don't need to ask if I enjoyed it; you know the answer." He dropped to his knees and began to kiss my cock. Jack came in the cabin. He smiled, stripped and joined us. Stackpool didn't bat an eye. When Stackpool got on his hands and knees to suck Jack he spread his legs and left his ass open and undefended. I filled the opening.
I wouldn't have thought an asshole could express feelings, but Stackpool's welcomed me. His sphincter was firmly closed, but made no effort to resist. Once my knob was on the dark side, he tightened and gripped my organ. I could sense him quivering as I pushed deeper.
He continued to worship Jack's cock with his mouth as he welcomed my cock with his ass. Stackpool began to rotate and undulate his hips to stroke my member with hit tight ass. I relaxed. I knew he wanted my cock and he wanted my balls contents spurted into the depths of his ass. While the sex was intense, it was also relaxing.
Jack began to moan and then shiver as he filled Stackpool's mouth. I felt my man seed building up as a prelude to an orgasm. Jack and I didn't shoot off at exactly the same time, but there was enough overlap to make that incidental. I pulled out after the last ejaculation. His ass closed firmly, trapping my man seed in his rectum.
Stackpool returned to his cabin on the upper decks, but he visited every other day or so, often accompanied by one or more of his friends. I realized Alexander, Louis and Wistar formed his harem. Stackpool had an outgoing personality, and Col. Capeheart respected his advice. The other men were quieter and rather shy. When they had something they wanted to tell the Capeheart, they used Stackpool as their intermediary.
When I used the word harem, I don't suggest they were Stackpool's sexual playthings. They were more than willing to serve Stackpool. He enjoyed their company, both sexually and intellectually. We had just left New York when I came under Stackpool's spell. He was one of those men you wanted to please. He didn't ask or demand anything; I offered it to him and he accepted my offer.
I was surprised to find the other men were in the same situation. With them, I encountered men who were entirely at ease with their sexual tastes for the first time. There weren't nervous or embarrassed at all. They weren't ashamed either. I found this refreshing and rather exciting. On the main deck or in the mess they were ordinary, conventional polite men. Below deck, they were uninhibited but polite and discreet, sex-crazed men.
Sex-crazed, discreet and hard-working may seem like a unlikely combination. No one seemed to pass up a sexual opportunity. Stackpool christened my cabin the clubhouse. His men were use to hot temperatures and they had no problem dropping into my cabin for a little release.
Stackpool was outgoing and aggressive. He was over six feet tall and muscular. Wistar was the smallest man in the group, but a major portion of his body weight was in his genitals. I also discovered Wistar had control of his ejaculatory functions. He could become excited, erect and then climax in whatever time was available. He could fill the allotted time whether that was three minutes or an hour. Impressive as his equipment was, it was also easy to take. It curved in a way that seemed to reflect the anatomy of the rectum, or at least my rectum.
I was afraid the stokers would object to have a passenger visiting the boiler room and recording their naked bodies. No one seemed to object to his presence. Jack also liked him, so all was well. While Stackpool was sexually interested in the stokers, he and his men were careful. In their many travels, they knew that powerful men often had the right to use persons of lesser rank for their sexual pleasure. Stackpool was politically liberal, and found this unacceptable. He claimed, "Naked men are all equal!"
Stackpool had the peculiar ability to carry on a conversation while fucking. He seemed to possess the longest of fuses. He enjoyed the tight confines of a muscular ass. He was a heavy oozer of precum and once he was in an ass, there was no need for additional lubrication. He rarely shot off, and usually his playmate climaxed before he did.
Alexander, his assistant was often with him and he licked up semen. At first, I thought this was a lowly task, but I soon recognized it was his personal preference. The men were very sexual, but they were careful to leave no physical traces. The second time I connected with Stackpool he was with Louis. Louis cleaned up with such great enthusiasm I had a second orgasm.
I never fully understood Stackpool's relationship with Capeheart. They were close and it was clear that Capeheart relied on his judgment. The relationship didn't seem to be sexual, but it was hard to believe Stackpool had any relationship that wasn't sexual. Since he liked our ship and we later became his usual transport. In Capeheart's article, "Voyage to South America" he described out ship in glowing terms. With our cargo of electrical equipment and the National Geographic team as passengers, we represented all that was progressive and modern.
We encountered a bad storm on the trip and Capeheart described our stalwart Captain and crew in glowing terms. My Uncle was building two more ships. This was a gamble financially, but the National Geographic article helped to make our ships the gold standard of the South American trade. This was lucky for my Uncle, but my Uncle was not a believer in good luck. He made sure the officers and crew of the new ships were top notch.
A good portion of South American trade was on tramp steamers, some of which were disreputable. They were inexpensive and none too reliable. We were reliable and dependable. That was important for expensive cargo. My Uncle did not believe in rotating crews or officers. Once you were on the ship, it was your ship. My Uncle wanted men who loved the ship and confident in their captain. He moved men to other ships only for a good reason. If you worked hard for our line, you had a job for life. That was in contrast to the tramp steamers who hired whomever was hanging around the dock when the sailed.
We dropped the expedition off and then delivered our cargo. There was nothing ready to take to the States, so we sailed to Cuba. There was always something in Havana. We found a load of cigars and sailed for New York. We stayed in New York for a week and my Uncle made an inspection visit. The ship looked wonderful and was in fine condition. Uncle Horatio did not visit me when I was on the ship. I was just a member of the crew, not his Uncle. He sent me an invitation for dinner at his house.
That dinner turned out to be a full-scale family reunion. It was festive and fun. I saw many relatives that I hadn't seen in a two or three years. He made it clear to the family that I had distinguished myself and was destined for advancement in time.
As I left, I carried sealed orders for Captain Thomas. That was unusual. I gave the orders to the Captain on my return. The next day he called all the crew back to the ship. He cancelled shore leave. He told the men that the next cruise was to be at high speed, and The company would pay the crew accordingly. He Captain believed extra work demanded extra pay. That went over well with the crew.
That night he called all the officers in for a meeting in his quarters. That too was rare.
"We are going to be carrying a valuable cargo, that must be delivered as quickly as possible," the Captain said. "No word of the cargo or its value is to get out. It is secret. They will deliver the cargo tomorrow night and we will leave immediately. We will have a larger than usual group of passengers. It will be crowded."
"Will that affect our cabin arrangements?" Jack asked.
"It won't affect you men in the boiler room, but I don't know exactly how many men will be with us yet," he explained. "We will have to play things by ear."
At 9:00 PM, men arrived and loaded the SS. Bear Point. It included some heavy machinery but most items were in sealed, comparatively light boxes. Heavily protected armored wagons from the Pinkerton Company made several of the deliveries. They were done by midnight. Then some twenty-five men came onboard. They were in civilian clothes, but I was sure they were soldiers. We sailed at 2:30 in the morning. When we were out of New York Harbor, we headed north for several hours. Anyone who might have observed us would have assumed we were headed to Halifax on the way to Europe.
At dawn, we reversed course and then went to full speed to the south. It was in late October and the temperatures were cool. That made little difference in the boiler room, but it was possible to be comfortable on deck.
Our passengers were a detachment of United State Marines, out of uniform. Our cargo held the future treasury for the new Republic of San Domingo. I wasn't aware such a republic existed. It was a new country created to further American interests in Central America.
Our cargo included gold, paper money and a printing press for the new republic. It also included postage stamps, government bonds and similar items. When we arrived in San Domingo City, the new government would have the financial look of an actual national state. I was unsure our load of paper money would have any true value.
Along with the detachment of Marines were three bakers. Mr. Henry Mills Exall was the senior man. He said the paper money was backed by the full credit of his bank, The American Export-Import Bank. US Treasury backed the bank. The Import-Export Bank provided financing for unstable nations with whom the US traded. This trading tended to be high risk, but very high profit too.
San Domingo was being carved from another nation. That nation was unhappy about the new republic as were many of the neighbors. There were many who would like to intercept our ship. Part of our cargo was gold. If we failed to make the delivery, the new Republic of San Domingo would fail. Without our cargo, it could not survive.
Col. Johnson Smith was in command of the Marines. He struck me as a bit of a cowboy. He was loud, aggressive and demanding. He had some ideas about how to run the ship that he tried to implement. He had no success with the Captain who remained fully in command. Curiously, he soon got along well with Captain Thomas. Jack told me Col. Smith was one of those men who tried to get all the power he could out of habit and personal preference. He tested the senior officers. When he failed, he accepted defeat.
I was proud of the ship. The engines were capable of running at full speed, and they functioned well. The captain provided extra food and drink for the stokers. They needed this physically and mentally. They were strong men, but it was good that the Captain took care of them.
Col. Smith visited me in the boiler rooms. At first, I assumed it was because he was a busy body. He was actually surveying the possible battlefield. He was to protect the ship, and he wanted to know what was where. He knew the easiest way to stop the ship would be to disable the engines. I told him we had no new crewmembers and no one could get into the engine room without either Jack or me knowing. That seemed to please Col. Smith.
The next day Col. Smith appeared again. This time he wasn't inspecting the boiler room as much as he was looking my nude stokers. He pretended to interested in security, but I knew better. The boiler room was always hot, and uncomfortable. It was also secluded and comparatively private.
He watched the stokers. "They are fine specimens of men," he remarked. "They look strong and have great stamina. I see you have a most informal dress code down here."
"The Captain is not a sticker for details as long as the men get the work done. His taste for informality does not include any shirking of duties or discipline," I explained. "He does run a happy ship."
I wouldn't say I was worldly, but I knew Col. Smith's interest in the stokers wasn't in their stamina. He wasn't shy about looking at the naked men. "They look healthy too," he said. "Most stokers are one step from death."
"We have a healthy ship too," I said. "I insist on showers between every shift. It cools them off and we avoid skin infections. The showers are relaxing too."
"I find showers relaxing too," he said. He looked at me. "Do you ever join them?"
"Well, it is hot in my cabin too."
"I'd like to join in," he said in almost a whisper. "Are the men shy about visitors?"
"They aren't shy at all," I said. "They tend to get a bit playful. Visitors might not understand their games. It's a private time for them."
He looked at me in the eye. "I think I would understand their games without any problems."
I knew what he meant. "I am afraid all men are equal when they are naked in the showers. All the stokers give and take. Some are well equipped," I said. Col. Smith smiled.
"That wouldn't be a problem either," Smith said. "I like them big." I told him the next shift change was at 1:00 in the morning. If he were to visit then, we might join the stokers. The colonel said he would try to visit if he could get away.
I took a nap since I had the night shift. Jack was watching the boilers. I wasn't surprised when Col. Smith appeared shortly before one. He was a blustery, aggressive man, but he seemed subdued. We went to the showers and were under the water when the stokers arrived. When Smith saw Kevin entering the shower, he was happy. His cock responded.
He wasn't fully erect, but he was on the high side of half-hard. The stokers liked that. In a normal shower room, a hard cock would be unusual. In our shower, it meant you were just one of the men. The stokers weren't into the social graces much. They didn't care if I introduced them to the new man. The erection was all they needed to make friends and have some fun.
For Col. Smith introductions would have been just an embarrassment. Getting down to business right away was good for him. I didn't know how experienced he was in man play, but he was either very experienced or a fast learner. He fit in immediately. From his accent, I knew he was a southerner, and I wasn't sure how he would deal with Nigel, our black stoker. That was no problem at all.
I also wasn't sure if he was as open to the possibilities as he said he was. I assumed aggressive men like Col. Smith were all tops. However, like Stackpool, Smith bent over and exposed his ass. He loved the bottom. That was good for everyone.
I was afraid Smith would treat the men like entertainment. He was the entertainment for the crew. Everyone who wanted to poke his cock into his ass had a chance. If anything, his enthusiasm grew as semen filled his hole. It was a good night. The men went to bed and Smith returned to his quarters. I was on duty and spent the rest of the night in the boiler.
The next morning Smith came by and thanked me for the night before. "It's been years since I have done anything like that," he said. "To tell the truth, I've never done anything that good."
"They are good men," I said.
"I'm an older man now, but it seems it was more exciting now than it was when I was younger," Smith said.
"I have discovered the more I do it the better it seems to get."
"That may be part of it," he said. "They were certainly relaxed." He left for lunch. Henry Exall came by later that day.
"I had a little conversation with Col. Smith when he came back to the cabin last night," he said. "He seems to have had a good time."
"I'm afraid my men are busy to do that often," I explained.
"I fully realize that. I think we are all like spirits. I was hoping I might be able to use your cabin. It is attractively secluded," he said.
"Jack goes on duty shortly, I will be sleeping so if you are quiet, I have no problem," I said.
"If I were to return in an hour at 2:00, would that be acceptable?" he asked. I said yes. Since joining the ship, I had found ways to catch sleep whenever possible. On an easy cruise, sleep wasn't a problem. If there was a storm, it could be a rare commodity.
An hour later Henry returned with a young Marine, Albert. Albert was a handsome, well-built man, perhaps 23 years old. Frankly, Henry seemed to be too proper and prissy to engage in carnal pleasures. The Marine looked like a god compared to Henry. I misjudged Henry; he was a sexual wild-man, quite uninhibited and very generous.
Albert was a farm boy from the Mid-west. He had lived with his parents who were of the strictest sort of Christian faith. They kept him on the shortest of short leashes. Henry didn't tell me how they met, but by the time Albert left my cabin, he had experienced it all. Henry was an unimpressive man. He was thin and scrawny. Fortunately, half of his body weight must have been in his cock and oversized balls. Given that he wasn't attractive, Henry seemed to devote himself to pleasing his playmate.
Henry was on a schedule. He was due at a meeting in the Captain's quarters at 3:30. Albert was still dressing when he left. I got out of my hammock and Albert saw me naked for the first time. He liked what he saw. I was much closer to his age than Henry was. While Henry had given him a workout, he was ready for more.
On the ship we was largely cut off from the world. When we reached San Domingo, the situation was unsettled. Unsettled is an understatement. The revolution to establish the new republic was underway, but the outcome was unclear. The arrival of a fortune form the United States was to have been the seal of approval for the new republic. That was not the way the inhabitants saw it. When the provisional government announced our arrival, there were defections from their army.
The Captain was a perceptive and intelligent man. He made sure we took on coal to replenish our fuel supplies before we unloaded the gold and money. The Marines took Henry and the other bankers to the provisional headquarters to arrange for the transfer. They also did some scouting in the city and Col. Smith was most unhappy. He spoke Spanish fluently, and he discovered the truth about the local support for the revolution.
He suspected the revolution was a scheme by local magnates to start their own republic and feather their nests with a vast infusion of American money. He returned to the headquarters and found the bankers were held hostage, pending the delivery of our cargo.
Col. Smith rescued the bankers and fought his way back to the ship. The Captain had the foresight to keep the boiler ready for quick departure. When he heard the gun battle, we departed, leaving a boat to for the Marines. They all made it with only one Marine wounded. No ship in the harbor could approach the speed of the Bear Point. We all escaped.
We went to Jamaica and sent a boat to land and get instructions at the American consulate. Henry came back with instructions to return with the gold but to destroy all the banknotes, stamps and bonds of the non-existent Republic of San Domingo.
We returned to New York at a moderate pace, partially fueled by burning banknotes. The stokers thought that was great fun. I realized we had been pawns in an ill-conceived adventure. We had acquitted ourselves well and averted an international incident. There was no evidence.