The Atlantic Express
by: justjames17
(© 2004 -2007 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
 

Chapter 61
Kokoda Track
Part 4

Peter Bentley, the young lieutenant in the commandos wounded in the skirmish at Isurava where the devilish Japanese had driven the valiant but poorly trained and equipped young inexperienced CMF troops back to after contesting every meter valiantly. The commanding officer had immediately sent Peter's platoon forward to attack the enemy positions, they did so catching the overconfident Japanese by surprise and successfully wiping out the forward troops digging in near the village. In the battle Peter had been knocked unconscious causing him to fall down into the rocky creek bed, he was suffering a possible fractured skull and was sent back down the track carried by four native bearers.

The long arduous trek back down the track took many days, as the bearers climbed up the mountains till they were struggling through thick fog, their bare feet sinking in the deep glutinous mud as they struggled on, Peter now and then hobbling along being assisted to walk before he was too exhausted and needed carrying again. The constant flow of bearers carrying the supplies flowed past the small group making their way back towards the coast. At one point they came upon the gunners heaving their guns upwards ever upwards, their aching bodies crying out for relief, but they struggled on their rest breaks getting more frequent as their exhausted bodies began to give out. At evening the mosquitos appeared biting and sucking blood from everybody and the stinging insects carried malaria that they passed on to anybody not taking their atabrin tablets. Many troops hated the bitter pills and the way the medicine turned their skins orange and would toss the pills away rather than take them thus opening themselves up to the dangerous debilitating virus.

The natives seemed immune to the disease and carried on ignoring the stinging pests, Peter on the other hand was soon showing the effects of the numerous stings his skin covered in small lumps that he scratched weakly. Nights were spent in villages where the smoke of the fires helped dissuade the insects so he was able to catch a few winks of sleep before they set off again next morning. Between the insects and the rain and mud the trek seemed to go on for ever but eventually the group arrived at the coast and Peter was immediately stripped, bathed and checked out by the medical staff. Dressed in clean pyjamas and with fresh white bandages around his injured skull he was put to bed in a ward where slow spinning overhead fans helped cool the sweating patients. Next day, Peter feeling much better after being attended to by the efficient military medics, inquired if Foxhound was still in port, thinking Charles would be long gone, he was delighted to hear the British destroyer had been seconded along with the HMAS Stuart as escorts for the supply ships steaming from Australia to New Guinea and back again.

Peter sent a message to Foxhound letting Charles know he was in the base hospital, he relaxed thinking of his English lover, reliving in his mind the molten hot sex they had experienced in the short time since they'd met back in Cairns. Peter's erection grew and stiffened as he lay there daydreaming, he only realised it when a fellow patient chuckled and said, "You must be having very sexy thoughts mate by the bulge under your sheet there."

Peter dragged himself from his reverie and looked down the pristine white bedding and saw the huge bulge pulsing on his groin, he rolled onto his side to hide it from the guy in the next bed, an air force pilot, who had crash landed his Brewster Buffalo after a skirmish with a Zero over Port Moresby several months before. He had been trapped in the cockpit and had received major burns as he struggled to force the canopy back so he could escape the burning wreck after landing wheels up due to his hydraulics failing. The ground crews had rescued him dragging him from the blazing plane, at great risk to themselves as the plane's remaining ammunition was exploding in the flames. His hands were like claws while his face was badly disfigured from the burns, he was still cheerful even though he must have been in a lot of pain still. They were discussing flying him to England to where Archibald McIndoe was pioneering the treatment and reconstruction of RAF and RAAF pilots with similar burns.

Peter wondered how this young bloke could remain so cheerful with the terrible scarring and pain, he admired him immensely and felt if it were he lying there like that he would not be able to remain as happy. His throbbing headache began to return after he moved and he groaned in frustration, then he thought of the pilot officer next to him and bit his lip telling himself to stop being a whimp. His erection wilted as he lay there feeling the big bass drum pounding inside his skull, he gingerly rolled onto his back again and lay there eyes tightly closed to shut out the bright light which aggravated his problem. The pilot watched Peter silently thinking what a total stud the young lieutenant looked even with the turban of bandages swathing his handsome head, the poor lad had had no sexual release since the fire as his talon like hands were incapable of closing about his erection, his irregular night time involuntary spermings embarrassed him immensely when the nurses changed his bedding next morning. He dearly wished somebody would wank him off to ease the aching pressure in his swollen sperm laden balls.

As the days passed Peter and the pilot became friends, early one morning as the pilot, Lieutenant Scott Whitman, awoke with a bone that wouldn't go away he lay there rubbing his claw like hand up and down the tented sheet in frustration. The sound and movement awoke Peter who looked across and whispered, "Looks like you need assistance Scott, would you like me to help you?" 

Scott looked across at Peter and nodded his eyes pleading in the frightening mask of his scarred face, Peter gingerly sat up then swung his legs out of the bed resting his feet on the cool shiny linoleum floor covering. He sat there a minute to let his head stop spinning before getting up and slipping across to Scott's bed, he gently tugged the sheet down and looked at the pyjama pants standing up over Scott's massive stiffy. He looked at Scott and whistled softly saying, "Crikey Scotty that is a tremendous stiffy you have there, its incredibly beautiful."

Scott mumbled something he couldn't quite hear and he opened the fly in the flannel pants reached in and extracted the hot hard erection waggling it in his fist, as it pulled free. Scott groaned as if in pain and Peter asked, "Am I hurting you mate?"

Scott groaned and replied, "No it doesn't hurt it just feels incredible to have you playing with my cock, be careful though mate or I'll explode like a bomb."

Peter grinned at his mate and gently began to stroke the hot hard silky member that was pulsating in his grasp, Scott squirmed on the bed eyes closed but his scarred features were unable to show the utter bliss he was feeling as the handsome lieutenant wanked him gently. Peter was enjoying the feel of Scott's cock as he gradually stroked him faster squeezing the vibrant voluptuous tool in his hand as he began to wank it in earnest. Scott's hips were rising off the bed as he panted and whimpered, this spurred Peter on as his hand flew up and down the stupendous stiffy, Scott groaned, "I'm going to blow, Oh My GOD I'm going to explode!"

Peter bent over his lips touching Scott's crimson cock head as he wanked like a mad man, Peter groaned and jerked, his body went stiff every muscle ridged and tensed as his balls moved up swelling on his crotch before his dick throbbed twice swelling even more in Peter's jerking hand. The lips of his slit opened as it swelled then the first fusillade of cum rocketed out and into Peter's hungry mouth, it spattered on the back of his throat as round after round of thick cream spurted onto his tongue flooding his gob. Peter swallowed as fast as he could taking all Scott produced until the pilot collapsed back trembling and panting on the bred. Peter gently squeezed the thick muscle extracting every last drop as he licked and suckled that fat inflated spongy cock head.

Scott to out of it to talk lay there panting for a while then he whispered, "Thanks Pete that was immense, you didn't have to swallow my sperm though."

Peter looked at him licking his pink lips then replied, "I loved it mate your sperm tasted great, if you need bringing off again just let me know I'd be happy to do it as often as you need."

Scott sighed and said, "That's an offer I can't refuse I hope I don't wear you out with my demands."

Peter sat there rubbing his own stiffy, Scott whispered, "If you want to you can wank off into my mouth, I'd love to taste your juice too, its only fair I reciprocate."

Peter got off the bed and moved up to where Scott's scarred face was, he began wanking hard eyes closed as he rubbed his knob across those terribly burnt remains of the young pilot's lips. Scott opened wide as Peter jacked hard and fast soon his big balls tightened and he groaned, "I'm coming, oh yeah here I come." 

His cock erupted spewing sperm thick and pearly white into Scott's open orifice as the young airman gulped and gurgled trying to keep up with the delicious deluge flooding his scarred mouth and gullet. The cataclysmic cum completed Peter's shaking body drained the last dreg of sperm into Scott's gob, he jerked and squeezed the last vestiges from his still vibrating dick as he sighed in relief. Scott gurgled and gasped as he sputtered before he whispered, "Amazing Pete I thought you'd never finish cumming then you too must have been needing relief like me."

Peter nodded and tucked his dick into his pyjamas before putting Scott's away and pulling up the sheet, he turned and padded to his bed gently lying down and resting his throbbing head on the pillow. The two lads continued their morning ritual every day becoming really close mate until Scott's departure when he was flown to the United Kingdom for his reconstructive surgery.

Meanwhile Charles was at sea on the way back to New Guinea as Foxhound and Stuart escorted two small cargo ships laden with supplies for New Guinea, the calm tropical blue seas looked tranquil but beneath those smiling waters danger lurked in both hidden coral reefs and the threat of enemy submarines skulking about just waiting to torpedo any allied vessels they could locate. The small convoy was plodding along at a steady 12 knots as the four ships ploughed through the gently undulating surface, unknowing that dark venomous eyes watched their approach through a periscope.

The trip so far had been uneventful except for a few aircraft scares and the erroneous reporting of a periscope that had turned out to be a semi submerged tree trunk with a branch bobbing above the water, Stuart had been despatched to attack the possible enemy and had returned shortly after her aldis lamp blinking the report of a false alarm. The enemy submarine watching the convoy was up sun from the four ships and the glare on the water helped hide the thin periscope from the lookout's eyes as the ships plodded on in blind innocence.

To be continued...
 

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Posted: 03/21/08