Jody, the Team, and the Navy
By: Kenneth Kirk
(© 2018 by the author)

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

kkirk@tickiestories.us

Chapter 24

Blade had been dating a young lady from Newport News for almost a year when I got to Norfolk.  Blade and Georgette celebrated their anniversary in mid-April and got engaged, which surprised all the guys who knew Blade’s other side.  The happy couple decided to get married in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, on June 14, so we spent the weekend there.  Brandon was Blade’s best man with Scott and me his groomsmen.  I was paired with a sex-pistol named Chrystal who grew up with Georgette in a suburb of Philadelphia. 

Chrystal managed to seduce me, thanks to some good vodka and the best Mary-Jane I’d ever had.  She was a great kisser and gave fairly good head.  Intercourse was not unpleasant, but it sure did feel weird.  I guess she thought it was good enough, because she initiated it again the next morning.  Brandon also scored with the maid of honor, another hot-to-trot Philly girl named Saundra.  Saundra had huge breasts and knew how to toss them around on the dance floor.  Lordy!

 *******

The next week I moved into Brandon’s apartment, which was great for me.  We spent a lot of time home alone when we weren’t with Darren and Alex and I didn’t have baseball practice or a game.  I loved sharing space with Brandon, who was neat and tidy and rarely in a bad mood.  We had a lot of fun together and certainly the steady always-available sex was quite special.

When baseball season ended, we began using the spare time at the apartment pool working on our tan lines with an occasional weekend at the beach, usually near Ft. Story and Cape Henry.  We’d have some fun flirting with the ubiquitous high school beauties or some co-eds from Old Dominion and maybe get to cruise a cute guy now and then.  One Saturday afternoon I went to the apartment of a tall auburn-haired stud I met on the beach.  He was cute with the hardest pecs I’d ever encountered.  Damn!  His dick was also quite hard when he pushed it seven inches deep into my rectum.  We laughed when we discovered we were both stationed at the same base, though he was a seaman.  I think he got off on fucking an officer, even one as low ranked as me.  He was about to depart on an aircraft carrier on a six-month deployment, so we only got together that one time.

******* 

Independence Day fell on Friday that year, giving us a 3-day weekend that was perfect for a guys-only cruise on Chesapeake Bay.  Our ship was actually a houseboat that was over 60-feet long and had the very apropos name Party Boy.  We departed the marina just before 10:00 on a gorgeous cloud-free summer day with 18 horndogs onboard.  We’d lost Blade to pussy, but many of my friends and fuck-buddies were ready to rumble.  The usual suspects (Brandon, Darren, Alex, Scott, Vern, Kris, Ted, Jeff, Lawrence, Miguel, Alvin, Thomas, and me) were joined by five other Naval officers: ENS Earl Bender, ENS Doug Clark, LTJG Arnie Hayes, LTCDR Sam Parsons, and CDR Fred Garrison.

Earl was about six feet with a medium build and, I found out later, very toned muscles.  He had blue eyes and dark hair that covered his body somewhat heavily.  He was well tanned and had a tattoo of the Navy insignia on his left bicep.  He was nice looking with a deep, sexy cleft in his chin and a 5 o’clock shadow at noon.  He hailed from Flagstaff, Arizona, and was an avid skier.  He worked with Scott and Vern as an MP.

Doug, originally from Lubbock, Texas, was a slender six-footer with light brown hair and blue eyes.  He’d graduated from Texas Tech a year earlier with a bachelor’s degree in Civil Engineering and was currently in the base engineering department.  His left bicep was adorned with a tattoo of an old sailing ship, probably like pirates had used in the 1600’s.  He was good looking and I sensed he was also quite good-hearted.  I liked Doug instantly with his broad smile and his West Texas drawl.

LTJG Arnie Hayes was born and raised in Dodge City, Kansas, and had a western pioneer vibe about him.  He was a tall, blonde, blue-eyed, muscle-jock with a Mechanical Engineering degree from Kansas State University and was assigned to ship repair at Norfolk.  When he took his shirt off, I noticed he had a globe tattooed on his right bicep and the USN insignia on his left bicep.  When he took his shorts off later, I noticed he hardened to almost eight thick inches.  Yummy!

LTCDR Sam Parsons, who was in his late thirties, was about my height and a few pounds heavier.  He had good musculature, medium brown hair that was seriously receding, and darker blue eyes.  He had an anchor tattoo on his left breast above his nipple and towards his armpit.  He also had the Navy insignia on his right bicep.  He was somewhat average looking, but with a well-kept body and a nice personality.  When I talked with him over beers, he told me he had been married for a bit more than a decade and had two sons, 8 and 5, and a girl, just about two.  He was due to ship out on an aircraft carrier in about a month.

CDR Garrison, Fred as we called him, was our oldest guest.  He was about 42 or 43, was of English, Scottish, and French ancestry and had grown up in Dallas, which was reflected in his strong Texas accent.  He had beautiful irises that changed color from gray to hazel to blue, depending on the ambient lighting.  I was fascinated by his eyes.  He was handsome and had an air of solidity and maturity about him.  Like most of the guys in our august group, Fred had a tattoo on his left bicep, the Navy emblem.  When we chatted during the cruise, I learned that he had graduated from the US Naval Academy in 1957 with a degree in Naval Architecture.  He was married with four kids, his oldest, a son, entering the Academy in the fall.  He’d just returned from an eight-month cruise and this was his first event with us since his return.  That explained why he was so keen on fucking every guy who would bottom, I reckon.  Once I got over my intimidation with his rank and could relate to him like any other man (almost, at least), I found I liked Fred.  I was sure he would have a lot of interesting stories of life onboard a floating city with a few thousand horny sailors for months at a time.

Even though I’d been in the Navy for a year, this was my first cruise and I was very excited about the adventure, not to mention the myriad possibilities with 17 cocks for 3 days.  Oooh, baby!  That afternoon, with our own Navy Commander (Fred) at the helm, we cruised out into the bay and headed out through the mouth of the Bay toward open ocean.  Passing by the famous Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel was exciting.  Feeling the power of the ocean waves coming into us as we moved out of the mouth of the Bay was awesome.  We reached Cape Henry and a long row of breakwaters protecting Ft. Story before the Captain, technically Commander, veered slowly to the north in a long U-turn, retraced our route until we had re-crossed the Tunnel and then tacked to the north into the main channel of Chesapeake Bay instead of entering the James River and Norfolk Harbor.  By that time, it was after 3 and quite a bit of beer had been consumed.  The crew was well beyond tipsy and it was difficult for the more sober officers to keep the more inebriated officers from having sex on the deck in full view of a Holland America cruise ship we passed about a quarter of a mile off our starboard side.  Luckily, we were heading out of the metropolitan area for the evening’s celebrations, but it was almost 6:30 when we finally dropped anchor in a secluded inlet where we had a high degree of privacy.  Brandon told me we were in Mobjack Bay, which had been a pirates’ cove at some point in the 1700’s.

Lunch had been cold sandwiches, chips, and beer, so, soon after we were stable in the cove, a couple of the guys went into the galley to begin baking potatoes and cooking baked beans for dinner.  After about an hour, two mountainous platters of T-bones were brought out for Alex and his assistant Scott to cook on a large grill standing on the lower deck.  Since I was the only “virgin” onboard, I got one of the first steaks and all the fixings.  You’re probably wondering how I, slut that I am, could be considered a virgin, especially when I’d been ass-fucked numerous times by at least half the passengers and crew.  I understand your confusion.  Actually, I was the only person onboard the boat for the first time.  That was my only credential as a virgin.

The boat had an upper deck, from which the Captain or his designee steered the ship.  It was also a great place to sit to sightsee as the boat moved around the bay as well as a great open-air seating area for a scrumptious meal.  Along with a fabulous steak dinner, I enjoyed a couple of glasses of a tasty Merlot that set off the flavor of the food and helped dissipate any small inhibitions I might have brought on board with me.  Joining me on the deck were Sam, Vern (pictured), Alvin, Thomas, Earl, Doug, and eventually Darren and Fred.  Fred told me that I was exempt from any cooking or cleaning duties since I was a “virgin”, which earned a lot of laughter and a “Not for long, I hope” from Doug.

We were also told there was to be no “hanky-panky” until after we’d seen the fireworks over Norfolk.  I was surprised we were still close enough to the city to be able to see the fireworks, but about 10:00 we saw a very nice show along the tops of the trees on the south side of our little lagoon.  Not long after the finale of the show died out over the trees, swimsuits and shorts began hitting the deck and arms reached out to the nearest graspable man-flesh.

I spent the next hour on my knees servicing ensigns, lieutenants, and commanders without discrimination.  Most of the guys saved their loads for later, but I did get a couple of tasty morsels, from Sam and from Scott.  Ted came up to help out and took a load from Alvin, I think.  On the lower deck, Jeff and Lawrence were the primary cocksuckers. 

At some signal I didn’t catch, Ted and I were upended and placed face-down on the benches on opposite sides of the deck.  Soon, tongues began exploring my anus.  I assume the same was happening to Ted.  He and I began moaning and several of the guys milled around above me sort of waiting their turns to feed on my dick sheath.  I enjoyed a long and athletic string of ass lickers and was quite nicely relaxed when, finally, a greasy finger breached my hole for the first time.  Special effort was made by several of the guys to find and massage my prostate, which turned me on even more, as if I could get more turned on.

Fred fed me his nice seven and a quarter inches, so I could get him ready for the cruise’s first penetration.  I learned later the group’s tradition is that the ranking officer gets to fuck whoever he wants as the opener of the cruise.  I guess it was an honor to get the Commander’s cock first, but frankly it was just great to feel some meat sliding into my hungry asshole, no matter whose body it was attached to.  For the next hour and a half or so, tops wandered from Ted’s butt to mine and occasionally went down the narrow stairs to sample Jeff and Lawrence on the lower deck.  Of course, the guys who had started on the lower deck slowly came to the upper deck, so, in the course of the evening, I think I got fucked by every top on board.  Although the dicks varied in both length and girth, I truly enjoyed every one of them.  Some tops were gentle while others were wild and passionate, and a couple were down-right rough. 

For an hour or more, the tops didn’t stay engaged long enough to cum, but eventually they began pumping long and hard until they would scream out and fill one of our asses with their Naval semen.  I came twice as my ass and prostate received so much lovely stimulation.  I counted two orgasms from Ted and heard Jeff and Lawrence screaming several times, too.  Most of the tops limited their endeavors to one orgasm during this hot round robin fuckathon.  I got loads from Scott, Vern, Alvin, Thomas, and my good-buddy Brandon.  When I thought everything was over, Jeff appeared to fuck a final load out of his balls after taking his share of cum up his butt.  He was so hot that he only lasted about two minutes before he unloaded deep in my ass, too.

I’m not sure how it happened, but I slept the night in a bed between Sam and Fred.  The next morning, I learned that each bottom sleeps with two tops in one of the six bedrooms on the Party Boy. 

******* 

When I awoke it was after ten and my tops were gone.  I found the head where I relieved myself and washed up before throwing on my tangerine-hued Speedo and wandering out to the galley and mess hall.  A giant breakfast of sausage, eggs, and biscuits with gravy was underway, thanks to the culinary skills of Sam and Brandon.  I sat on Alvin’s lap to drink a cup of coffee, then took his place at the table when he was finished.  Until I sat down to watch him eat (and steal a couple of bites of sausage), I didn’t realize how hungry I was.  When I finally got my own plate of food, I practically devoured it, probably because of the huge amount of energy I had expended since dinner last night.

Somebody announced that we would pull anchor at 2:00 to sail to the marina at Severn for showers and to go out to dinner.  That was about three hours away.  The dilemma of how to while away the time was solved when Miguel and Earl dragged me out to the lower deck, stole my tangerine Speedo, and tossed me onto my back atop a bench near the rear railing.  Miguel had my legs over my chest and Earl had his tongue buried in my hole before I took a second breath.  When I opened my mouth to moan, Miguel’s seven-and-a-half inches of brown cock forced themselves between my teeth and through my mouth, banging against my throat constriction before I knew he was inside me.  We soon drew a crowd of onlookers, who eventually selected Jeff to service them. 

Soon Earl’s tongue was replaced by a different tongue and then a few lubed-up fingers.  When Earl’s cock slipped into me, I noticed his cock felt a bit different than the others because it had a natural curve in its shaft, causing it to rake my prostate with slightly more force than most of the other guys’ cocks.  Earl blessed me with a hot load in my ass before Miguel took over plowing my bunghole until he added his special hot sauce to my rectum. 

When I came up for air, Jeff was getting pounded by Darren on one side of me and Thomas had put his bottom in service to Fred and his mouth in service to Scott, who were above the Asian man and leaning together in a very sexy kiss.  By the time I climbed to the upper deck I found Brandon banging the hell out of the very hunky Miguel, whose golden-skinned round asscheeks were high behind him split deeply by Brandon’s big boy. 

Brandon smiled at me and I moaned, “Holy shit!  That’s so hot!”  I stood riveted to the coupling in front of me for a moment before hands touched my buns to pull them apart.  Soon a sailor began felching my ass.  For a while I didn’t know who was dining on the leftovers of Earl’s and Miguel’s loads, all mixed and briefly aged in my hot ass.  Eventually I saw it was Scott feasting on the bounty in my hole.

“Now that you’ve cleaned me out,” I said to the Black Cherokee, “you owe me a refill.”

He grinned up at me.  “A debt I will enjoy paying, babe!”  We leaned against the railing to enjoy Brandon breeding the hunky Miguel.  Fred joined us, tugging absentmindedly on his cock.

After a couple of minutes, Brandon cried out as he splooged Miguel’s innards.  Quickly Fred approached the couple, where he indicated to Brandon that he wanted a turn.  So, Brandon withdrew and Fred took Miguel’s squishy asshole.  That was a super-hot coupling, too.  Scott and I stored up the image of these two, but relaxed a few minutes until the commander screamed out his satisfaction. 

Things were winding down and we began preparing to take our Party Boy to Severn.  I thought I was never going to find my tangerine Speedo, but finally found it under a bench on the lower deck, recently covered in someone’s semen.  I rinsed it over the side and slipped it on as we got underway.

*******

The Party Boy put in at the York River Yacht Haven near Gloucester Point and the guys took over the showers for the next hour as everyone washed away the sweat, salt, and semen from their sleek bodies.  Most of us shaved, too, and then everyone returned to the boat to dress in tight Tees and shorts for our sail across the wide York River to Yorktown, of Revolutionary War fame.  We abandoned ship for a trek through this little seaside village where we hit a couple of souvenir stores and quickly collected in a quaint harborside bar and restaurant, which instantly elevated the testosterone level, not to mention the beauty and noise level, along with the profitability of the place.  The bartender, a barely-21-if-at-all local boy (pictured), got a little nervous as our (literal) boatload of drinkers bellied up to his bar.  Seeing, or maybe just sensing, his plight, the manager, a grizzled seaman pushing 60, joined him.  Together they opened beers, pulled tap levers, and mixed cocktails like the world was going to end in fifteen minutes. I’d say we were only there four or five minutes before the last man (Jeff) was served.

Darren told the manager we would like a nice table overlooking the water for 5:30.  As the manager moved to the hostess to get her started with our accommodations, we enjoyed hanging out in public together.  I noticed that the few others in the place in mid-afternoon almost stopped conversing with their friends as they increasingly watched our group’s interactions.  When I tried to view my compatriots as strangers might, I could see how mesmerizing this large group of gorgeous, sexy, and relaxed men would be.  Even a woman as old as Grandma Ida looked at us with unbridled lust in her eyes.  I called her to Brandon’s attention and he commented that he imagined in all her many decades she had never seen so many hot guys together. 

There was quite a bit of friendly affectionate touching between the officers, but I never saw anything that would seem inappropriate to even the most conservative outsider.  Frankly, it was nice to have this break from constant sex, although I was looking forward to getting back to our secluded cove in a few hours. 

At 5:30, we were herded into the restaurant, disturbing the few early diners as we made our way to a row of four tables turned together and stretching along a good portion of the windows facing the wide river.  From our table, we could watch yachts on the waters and seagulls swooping and squawking and occasionally dipping into the water as they chased dinner.  The pelicans seemed like the most macho birds in the harbor and I particularly enjoyed watching them dining on whatever they could scoop into their big bills. 

After dozens of crabs and a hundred shrimp had been consumed, we lingered over coffee and dessert for a while.  Our hunger nicely slaked and our blood-alcohol levels nicely elevated, there seemed to be a rapid uptick in the libido level within the group.  Almost as a unit, we agreed it was time to sail back to Mobjack Bay.  We settled our bills, placed generous tips for the servers, and again ended all conversations as we began rising and strutting through the tables leading to the main entrance.  It was still early, just a few minutes after 7:00, so the Saturday dinner crowd was at its peak with a couple of dozen folks scattered around near the door.  Brandon and I happened to be at the rear of the line as we passed through the crowd.  This line of sexy dudes must have aroused a lot of attention because I heard a woman ask her husband what kind of group we were.  When he caught my eye, I smiled broadly and wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.  I swear he turned red as he realized he had just been flirted with and by a sexy young man, too!  I didn’t hear what he told his wife about us.

We piled into the boat and Captain Fred took us back to the cove as we watched the early evening frolicking of the waterfowl and fish that flopped around the boat.  We saw some deer feeding in the woods along the shore and the sun dropped to the treetops before we arrived at our special spot.  By the time the anchor was sitting on the shallow bottom, most of the guys were buck naked as they enjoyed a beer before getting amorous.

Lawrence came to me as I sat on the lower deck watching the last part of the orange, tangerine, and purple beauty of the sunset.  “Hey, Jody,” he said quietly, “come to the upper deck with me.”

I followed him up the narrow stairs and found a big wooden structure standing in the middle of the upper deck.  At first I didn’t know what it was, but after walking part of the way around it, I realized it was a replica of a stockade from the dark ages.

Seeing my puzzled look, Lawrence said, “It’s a pillory.”

“Like a stockade?”

“Yes.  From the Middle Ages.”

From behind me a deep, resonant voice said, “Used to restrain wayward citizens for public humiliation.”

Swiveling around, I smiled at Sam.  “I can’t imagine why it’s here,” I said coyly.

“We were hoping you might like to spend a while in restraints,” Lawrence said with a lascivious grin.

To be continued...

Posted: 04/23/2021