RT-467 His Superior Officer
His Superior Officer
Rough Trade
RT-467
Spike Cummings
$2.95
INTRODUCTION
Tony dragged his duffle up the gang-plank. He was wrecked from a wild night at the bars. He hadn’t gotten asleep and he must have been had by about ten of the toughest men on shore. “Hey, Sailor, hoist that bag on your shoulder.. look smart!” was the shout from the bridge, Tony looked up and stopped short. The Bosun’s mate was glaring at him with piercing blue eyes. He was all muscle and good looks. Tony, tired as he was, snapped to attention. “Aye, aye, Sir,” he barked. He smartly lifted his duffle to his shoulder and stood stock still as the Officer looked him over. Tony could feel his cock throbbing, as his superior stared directly at his leg! “Come to my quarters at six,” he said and turned away.
FOREWORD
Tony could feel his cock straining for freedom in the tight white sailor pants he wore, and he thought that there was nothing he could do about it.
He had been on the ship now for almost three days, and they were out at sea.
All of the men on the ship were humpy numbers, and he had seen practically every inch of every single body on that ship. He would stand by the shower stalls watching the men strip down to nothing.
One man in particular, Pierre, the French man, had one of the biggest dicks that Tony had ever laid his eyes on. When it was limp (and that was the only way the young boy had had a chance to see it so far), it hung down to the sailor’s mid-thigh. It was a thick slab of cock, surrounded by black hair, and Tony was sure that the meat would get even thicker when it started to fill with blood.
But he had only been able to watch.
He was too scared to try anything with Pierre, or any of the others, because he knew what might happen to him if he did.
But shit, he wished that he could have had Pierre’s thick hard dick right up his asshole. He didn’t think that he would ever be able to hold out for three more weeks, until they made it to shore and he had shore leave.
As he sat in the dining hall, eating the shit that they called food, he could see Pierre piling up some food on his tray. Then, the black-haired, dark-tanned man started to walk closer to Tony’s table. Tony’s heart almost lept to his mouth, and his dick grew another inch in the confines of his pants.
“This seat taken boy?” the French man asked him, and Tony shook his head.
Pierre slid onto the bench, opposite Tony, and he started to wolf down his food. Tony could see the man’s chest muscles bulging against the tight striped T-shirt that he was wearing, and wished he could have sucked one of those nipples.
Suddenly, it seemed like Pierre was aware of the way Tony looked at him, and the young boy was trembling. But then, just as suddenly, he felt a hand under the table, sliding up his thigh, slowly, until it rested on his dick.
“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre said to him. “Let’s find a place where I can be alone with you. I’m gonna stick it right up you, boy…”
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