Your Day in the Barrel

Still lying in the dim stern of the boat, the trusty crewman adjusted himself, wincing.

A large damp stain was spreading across Alan's lap from his hard pitched tent. He stuck his hand into his britch pants, fondling the head and shaft, cleaning off the moisture, and relieving the tension for just a moment. Tomorrow, he would have so much to fantasize about while he spanked himself off.

But now, it was time for business again.

Sam stood tall and proud in the center of the warehouse, facing the two others. He stripped, then raised his arms in the air. Now in his late 40s, salt-and-pepper curls sprouted from Sam all over, forming his shaggy beard, chest, armpits, and pubes.

He had worked a hot day's shift down here in the substructure of the boat, from dawn to dusk, and all those curls were damp and soaked with sweat. Little stains of black and golden oil were spotted across his arms and neck.

Bastien gazed in wonder at his uncut cock. It was short - at least compared to what he thought was average - but it was thicker, bigger around, than any he had ever even imagined. The expansive cock root was sticking out of his pubic fur, parallel to the floor, as hard as concrete. Beneath his sleeve of skin was a thick outline, as if he had a great snake still bunched up inside. He pulled back the skin, and his head folded outward, a fleshy, moist mushroom.

Mikey's hypersensitive sense of smell was kicking in. Sniffing the air, he took in Sam's scents of sweat, precum, hormones, and machine oil, and he felt himself getting semi-hard again. Bastien, too, took a deep whiff. The mechanic walked to him.

"You want to feel?"

Bastien raised his arm to Sam's penis. He batted lightly at it with his hand, then rubbed along its shaft with his fingers, stiffening it up to full staff. His piss slit was long, deeply creasing the big mushroom head, and precum dribbled out of it, forming a slick trail on the skin. Fully hard now, he shuffled over to the barrel, fitting his manhood through the hole and into Alan's waiting mouth.

Alan spluttered, just avoiding gagging. This guy's girth was something he never fully got used to. Reshaping his jaw, he kissed Sam's piss slit, then licked the head completely clean, savoring the new warm pre-fluid. Gasping and shivering from the friction, he moved in deeper, leaning forwards over the barrel and humping it passionately.

Sam's dick was short enough that Alan was able to curve his tongue back to lap at the head while his lips worked on the balls and root. The mate started his blowjob, and the watchers soon heard the two sounds alternating in time, one or two minutes of rhythm, the faint wet sucking inside alternating with Sam's rapid, grunting breaths.

"Ohhhh, yes," said Bastien softly, staring at his bouncing ass.

"So, you willing to take part now?" asked Mikey.

"Um... I'm still not sure I'll - I'll be able to finish," he said reluctantly. "But if it's all good, I at least have to try. I'm so hard - I need a release -"

"Fuck!" grunted the mechanic suddenly. "I - I think I'm getting close, Alan. Fuck, yes, just like that."

Still thrusting into the wood, Sam raised his left hand, spreading his buttocks apart a tiny bit. Then his right hand made a fist, and he dug the fingers and knuckles deep into the flesh just behind his hairy balls. Instantly his swearing rose into yelps. "Ahh - ahh - ahh!"

Bastien looked at him curiously.

"What's he doing?"

"He's stimulating his perineum," explained Mikey. "It feels amazing for some people. There are a whole bunch of nerve endings back there, and your prostate is just inside it as well."

"Wow. Did you learn that from Dr. David?"

The chef beamed. "Life on a ship is especially fun when the doctor is gay too."

The docker wrapped his huge, bulky arm around him, and they sat side by side, listening to Sam's happy moans. Black, oily sweat was trailing down his back. "Guys, I'm gonna shoot," he said, in a barely audible whisper.

Alan's mouth let out some lubricating drool, and then all the feelings hit Sam at once, the first mate's taste buds lapping around his shaft, lips buried in his pubic bush, and his own probing fingers teasing behind his balls, sending him rocketing over the brink. He had a split second to turn away from the barrel, and then he blew his load into the open air, and it fell to the floor, forming a circling trail.

His sperm had a sharp, bleachy smell. Mikey inhaled hard, savoring this new fragrance, mixed in with the fragrant sweat and oil.

"That was incredible," said the chef, leaning over and kissing Sam's softening head, still dripping with the last bit of his white seed.

"Thank you," said the mechanic. "And enormous thanks to Alan." Kiss sounds from inside the barrel. Messily, Sam suited back up, pulling his britches on both inside-out and backwards.

As he did so, the black man stood up from his crate, and both of his new friends saw the determination in his eyes. Bastien was ready to embrace this side of himself.

"Here I come, Alan," he said. "Please show me what you do best."