Your Day in the Barrel

At first light on Friday, the captain took up the helm. He flicked the switches, and the Triton blew its horn and steamed out of the port. Columns of its dry brown mist cut through the morning fog as the ship made its way north from Hamburg to Cuxhaven, and then out to sea.

In the cabin at the bow, the two women had woken up as soon as they heard the horn, and hadn't gone to sleep again. Lina and Valerie both lay awake for a prolonged time, staring at the ceiling as they thought about the day ahead. One after another, they bathed themselves in the cabin's cramped bathroom, then pulled on their pants.

It was only another hour now to Heligoland, a spit of red sandstone in the German Bight, with a single town on it where they'd be supplying some small local merchants. Valerie tried to read one of her pirate tales to keep calm, but it didn't work too well. Always she kept coming back to the typewritten letter that she'd found in her bed while they were in port.

%%%%%

DEAR VALERIE:

Destroy this letter after reading.

Porthole K13 on top deck is unlocked. Wait for ship to stop, then climb out IMMEDIATELY and jump onto fire escape.

Leave before captain has declared ship docked. YOU MUST NOT BE SEEN.

Proceed directly to Heligoland radio tower 3. Password: CHEETAH. Team will drop you off by 7 PM at Freja's Pub. Blend into the crowd.

Good luck!

SINCERELY,

A. AND A.

%%%%%

Lina was reading the letter over her partner's shoulder. Valerie took a deep breath, psyching herself up, then beside the slim cardboard package she put the letter down.

"Don't worry. I'll destroy it for you," said Lina, and she pulled Valerie into her muscular arms, kissing her passionately. Valerie ran her hands along Lina's broad back as they made out, caressing her long, black hair and laughing. Before they parted ways, they gave each other a short, tight squeeze. This mission was not difficult, but any mission could be the one where they all got caught.

Valerie put on her brassiere, her blouse, and her pink coat. She pulled the package inside it, then exchanged a final smooch with Lina. Quickly she made for the top deck, sitting down on a bench and waiting for the moment.

An hour later she had got ashore with only her boots wet, and made it across the beach. She scrambled up the wooden stairs, her coat camouflaging her against the cliffs, and from the top of it she rapidly found the radio tower.

One of them drove up beside Valerie in his motor-car. "Cheetah," she said to the driver, and the car spirited her away.

And so the Triton made its very first delivery of the year, and no man on it knew.

-------------------------

All throughout the day, nobody saw Mikey. He was too busy simmering and mixing and cutting, preparing tonight's special dinner.

The meal was his idea. It was a Norwegian fish chowder made as a farewell for their guest. Tomorrow they'd be reaching Captain Bjørn's new shipyard in the Netherlands, and he would be leaving the crew. The monumental, bearded bear spent the morning walking throughout every deck of the ship, putting friendly arms around the cadets and wishing them luck on the voyage.

"Nine times. I bumped my head on the ceiling nine times," said Bjørn at dinner, chatting with their own captain, devouring bowls of chowder and swigging from beer steins the size of wine bottles.

Most of the straight guys had headed to Freja's Pub in hopes of getting lucky, while in the mess hall lingered the barrel's regulars. Sam, the mechanic, usually chatted with the other gay bears, but tonight he never showed up. What could he have been up to? Friday was his night in the barrel, but it was strange for him to miss a dinner beforehand, especially an important one like this.

Meanwhile, Sam sat on his stool far below in his workshop, holding the copper box in his hand. He turned it over, and it glowed in the brassy light. Over the past few days he'd built this up during his downtime, and just in time for tonight, it was ready.

His contraption.

He had cut and turned a circular opening into a solid block of copper, then glued pads of soft rubber bristles around its inner lining. Then he slathered the insides of the bristles with lubricating oil, and added a valve to allow adding more. Lastly he put a hinge at the end of the box and cut a square through the top, forming a window to let the giver see the action. The hairs of rubber were stacked into several layers, able to flex out of the way to accommodate a rod of any size or shape, and to fit in against its form.

Word had got out about the contraption last night. The lads were especially excited about watching Bjørn use it. Too big to get in through the barrel, he'd have to hold the box and pump on it in view of everyone.

From his workshop, Sam headed straight around the corner to the warehouse and around into the oak crawlspace. He set the contraption atop a small crate, nudging it into position behind the glory hole. On his right side he put down the bottles he held in his other hand, bottles of water and a potent, green antibacterial soap.

It took ten minutes or so before the first of them arrived. The man had a heavy tread, and he talked to himself under his breath as he shed his shirt and britches. Sam could make out words in French - deep, resonating French.

Bastien. Well, this would test if he had made it large enough.

The mechanic sat still, looking through the copper window. A big black manhood slid into it and began to pump back and forth. Bastien's precum was scattered among the tiny rubber hairs, formed into little beads. Sam could hear the squelch of the lube.

"D'ye like how it feels?" he asked softly.

"Oh, it is - divine..."

Sam rocked the contraption left and right slightly while he pushed. The hairs were flexible, but from time to time one caught Bastien's flare, or got pushed up inside his foreskin, and another spark flew. Just then Calum walked in, eager to be next. Standing behind the muscleman's leg, he watched him shake and sway against the barrel, the hips and abs and ass pulsing like carved pieces of granite.

Bastien was Calum's best friend. They were matched in size, about six-foot-four each, and they spent every day together at work stacking containers. Since Bastien came out to him openly over lunch, Calum had been questioning his own sexuality, but he'd never figured out any answers. He only knew that he was watching his friend get his pleasure, and watching it made him smile.

Behind Calum, the crowd came on fast. Two cadets sat down, and behind them walked Alan, Terry, and finally Captain Bjørn himself. Bastien's groaning rose and his teeth were bared from the feelings below. Hair and beef peeked out of all the men's vests, and looking around the room turned him on even more.

With his finger, Sam massaged the piss slit and tight frenulum of the muscleman. Then, lining up his cock down the opening, Sam flipped the contraption upside down. The hairs drove into Bastien's frenulum, making him bawl and kick his legs, and the crowd raved.

"Oh, yeah, Bastien!"

"Blow your load for us!"

"Nnnnggghhhh!" The black man's grunt was tell-tale, and his voice waved up and down. Heating up the lube with some friction, Sam poured it down the valve and into the copper box, coating the rubber hairs, which swayed back and forth, spreading friction and oil all over Bastien at superhuman speed. He brought his hand under Bastien's ass and gently teased at the back of his balls, which were gigantic inside his nutsack, like two eggs wrapped in plastic. Bastien was teetering toward the brink.

"Yes, Calum, yes, Sam... thank... you..."

And then Sam tilted the toy, and Bastien went over. An almighty bellow came out of his lungs, and he was hitting the barrel and thudding his feet across the floor in the throes of his orgasm. He blew his load straight into the contraption, wanting to feel the aftershocks, and feel them he did, his dick getting calmed by the brushing of the hairs while it shrank and withdrew.

Sam had built a hinge into the sealed end of the contraption. Holding a rag beneath it, he opened it. Bastien's sperm poured safely out, and then with two clean rags he put the strong soap and water to work, scrubbing and rinsing the surfaces until they shone like new.

He listened to the motions outside. The alpha bear was undressing. Holding the box, Sam peeked out of the crawlspace.

"Hey, Bjørn?" said Sam. "You'll need this. Do you want to go?"

"Eh, not right now, please," said Bjørn. Folding up his clothes, the captain proudly stood nude in the middle of the room, and he posed and flexed in all directions, showing off his manly beauty. He hauled a crate into the center of the floor.

Then he bent over it, pointing his rear end at them, and he spoke ever so quietly.

"Which one of you fine lads would like to fuck me?"