I stopped by the marina restaurant to grab a to-go coffee before driving home. I had a mild alcohol buzz and was hesitant to drive any great distance.
I pulled my F-150 out to the service road and immediately turned right down the lane to the public boat ramp. I figured I could park, enjoy the scenery and sober up.
I got to thinking about Mike and our aquatic adventure. I would have liked our hookup to have been truly mutual, but not every guy is completely ready to suck cock and have a load spill between his lips. Heck, I was one of them just a short few weeks prior.
All that having been said; I did enjoy servicing Mike’s dick. Without a doubt, it was the most beautiful specimen of man-meat I'd ever seen; let alone, sucked.
I decided then and there that I would be happy becoming Mike’s boatmate and oral cum dump.
I closed my eyes and slipped my left hand under the elastic waistband of my shorts and onto my hardening prick.
I fantasized about my next encounter with Mike. He was a pirate captain, and I was a lowly cabin boy. A deckmate had just winked and told me the captain wanted me in his cabin. I offered an “Aye, Aye” and headed toward the stern.
My timid rap on the door was met with an “Enter laddie. Captain Mike needs your help.”
I opened the louvered door and entered his darkened chamber. The Captain was standing in front of a mahogany armoire. Although I had seen him many times, I still found his visage to be far beyond frightening. The old pirate stood on one intact and one pegged leg. His right hand provided balance against the armoire, the left arm dangled at his side. This appendage terminated in a shiny steel hook. Down on the deck and between his legs was a brass chamber pot.
“Be a good laddie and help ye captain drain his sea serpent. Me hook’s no good with these buttons.” He pointed (pun intended) with the hook toward the fly of his striped, mid-calf pants.
I guess I hesitated, because he placed the barb of the hook onto my right shoulder and pressed toward the deck. I'd have been skewered, if I hadn't knelt before him.
“Well laddie, get at it, before I mess meself.”
I dutifully unbuttoned four whalebone toggles and leaned backward. The Captain ordered, “Pull out me manhood and point him towards that pot. Mind ye not to miss.”
I reached into his britches and liberated his manhood. It was nothing like I'd ever seen in my nineteen years on earth: as long as a belaying pin, as thick as my wrist and gnarly like an old oak root.
His prick was terrifying and yet, wondrous to behold. I gripped it like a moray eel and directed the pee slit toward the pot. The Captain let loose a torrent of piss into the brass vessel, nearly exceeding its volume.
“Wring out those last few drops, boy. No sense fouling me britches.”
I kept his hose directed at the pot with one hand and, starting at the base near his ram-sized balls, used my other to milk out what I considered to be the last of his piss.
Alarmingly, I sensed his manhood stiffening as I progressed down his shaft toward the crabapple-sized head. I knew little about the ways of the world; but having grown up on a farm, I knew enough.
I froze.
“Laddie, there's more juice to spill. Give my prick a proper wanking,” he commanded. An order was an order and besides, the hook once again rested on my shoulder.
I fisted the end of his prick, just below his knob, with my left hand and began timidly stroking the shaft up and down with the right.
“Add your spittle, boy,” he ordered.
I spit into my right palm and was ready to resume my wanking.
“No, lick me prick. Take your time and make your captain happy.”
I continued to grasp the end of his man-meat with my left hand, but raised his shaft upward. I began slurping my wet tongue up and down his hardening manhood.
“Lick the head, laddie. Put it in your mouth,” he ordered.
I swung his cock downward toward my face and licked my lips. I felt the barb of Captain Mike’s hook dig into my shoulder, urging me forward. I leaned farther forward, parted my lips wide and allowed the Captain’s prick to violate my mouth.
With no experience in such matters, I was at a distinct disadvantage. Luckily, instinct kicked in. I began bobbing my head on the end of his member, sucking as I did so. I added my right hand to his thick shaft and began jacking it from my lips to his ballsack. The more I sucked Captain Mike, the longer and harder his manhood became.
I was proud to service my commander.
My work seemed to have a positive effect. The old pirate lessened the pressure of the barb digging into my shoulder; instead, wrapping the crook of the hook around the back of my neck. He began panting like a hound. I felt spittle hit my forehead.
Captain Mike began uttering almost indecipherable phrases. I picked out: “Soon, baby”, “Daddy’s juice”, “Sweet lass” and “Lips of gold”.
My commander swatted my hands away from his prick and replaced them with his right, non-hook fist. He jacked his manhood like a crazy man, repeatedly striking my lips with his knuckles and forcing his cock deeper into my mouth.
But then he hesitated, retracted his battering-ram slightly from the rear of my mouth and ceased his growling. I was relieved. Maybe he was finished with this perversion.