Chapter 7 – Chapter 7

Back to the Sea

Before taking Tim back to the ship, Bill drove him up the coast in the Mustang to Sunset Cliffs Natural Park. They parked in a lot right next to the cliffs, and Bill pulled Tim over toward him, wrapping an arm around his neck and took him into a deep kiss. He moved the other hand under his jerkin and rubbed his nipples and glided his hand over Tim's chest. They were looking out over the Pacific on a beautiful, rugged section of the Pacific. He unbuttoned Tim's Navy white trousers—not that Navy white anymore—fished out his cock and slowly stroked him.

"You were terrific, baby," Bill murmured. "Can't get enough of you."

You and three others, Tim thought. But he was melting to the man. He was such a hunk and he had such a beautiful smile and a soothing voice. Tim could almost believe him.

"I'm sorry if it was a bit taxing . . ."

A bit!? Tim thought.

". . . but it's because your body is so beautiful and yielding. You are a natural. We must have you again."

Tim's hips were moving, thrusting up inside the hand encasing his cock. Was this what he wanted too. Would it be pabulum with Big Ralph from now on? Maybe this was what he wanted after all.

Bill's tongue was inside Tim's mouth, swabbing it. He took Tim's tongue in his mouth and sucked on it. He was pulling on Tim's cock harder. His thumb was pressing into Tim's piss slit, slicking around the precum Tim was producing.

This was more than fucking. This was fully arousing, more attention being paid to Tim's needs than anyone had done the previous day. He could lay under Bill and fully enjoy him. Of them all Bill had done him best. And he was the best looking, the hunkiest, the best talker. The kindest.

Both of them were aware that Tim was tensing. Bill withdrew from the kiss and moved his mouth down to cover Tim's cock and to suck until Tim came.

No one in the previous day had cared when and how Tim had come. Just now, here with Bill. Only Bill cared. He'd been given a telephone number. Was it Bill's. He could call the next shore leave and meet him again if it was only Bill.

Bill came back up and went into another kiss on the mouth. He had been holding Tim's cum in his mouth and it rolled around between their mouths. Tim moaned deeply. This was a new sensation. Not all that unpleasant. The most intimate sharing he'd ever done with a man.

"Come let's walk," Bill said, rebuttoning Tim's fly.

They got out of the car and, arm and arm, walked alongside the cliff. A hundred yards along the cliff the foliage got to be denser, trees and bushes came closer to the pathway.

Suddenly Bill lifted Tim off the ground and dragged him into the bush. He was pawing at Tim like a wild man. Tim was struggling against him, but it was no use. Bill pulled off his trousers and briefs and forced him onto all fours in the scrub, thrust inside him, and pounded, pounded, pounded his ass.

Tim sobbed and writhed under Bill's thrusts, the most brutal that Tim had had all weekend. With a yell, Bill pulled out of him and shot off across the small of his back. Tim rolled over onto his side and Bill stood, crouching over him, panting.

"Get up."

Tim whimpered something neither one of them could understand.

"I said get up."

Tim didn't. Bill kicked him in the ribs. He still couldn't rise.

Bill reached down, pulled him up, slung him over his shoulder, marched back to the car, and dumped him over the side of the convertible into the passenger seat.

As they drove back into the city, with Tim curled up in a ball in the passenger seat as far away from Bill as possible, Bill spoke only once. "$500 for the weekend plus room and board. We don't make love; we fuck. It's good money. Think about it and call us your next shore leave. You're going to find that you don't want vanilla any more after us. So you'll call."

At the dockside, he stopped near the gangplank to the USS Shoup, reached over and opened the passenger door, and nudged Tim out onto the blacktop. He reached over and pulled the door closed and then drove off without giving another look.

A couple of sailors passed Tim as he was struggling to stand up. They'd seen drunks coming off of shore leave like this, though, so they just passed him by.

Tim was happy for three weeks. Big Ralph kept the other men off him and fucked him three times a week. Bill had been right, though. After Pete and his friends Big Ralph's fucking was bland. Tim started to let the occasional bruiser fuck him without letting Big Ralph know that he was doing it. He found two guys who wanted to fuck him together, but Tim discovered that what they had in mind was one after another, but at the same time. And it was pretty bland.

One twilight he arranged to be standing near the hatch doorway to a rope locker, apparently unaware of a group of black sailors moving around him, ever closer, but knowing they were there. When they fucked him on coils of rope in the dark, one after the other as several hands held him down, all big dicked and heavy pounders, Tim felt about as close to the thrill he now associated with his Air Force officer weekend as he'd ever gotten.

Three months later, the Shoup was pulling into San Diego again to let its sailors go on shore leave—and Tim was looking around in his kit bag for Bill's telephone number.