Your Day in the Barrel

Slowly but surely, the Triton made its way across the barren ocean. Winter gales and whirlpools lashed against its hull, the skies dark grey at noon. And yet, the morale aboard had never been higher.

They were on their way to Hamburg for the all-important meeting with the Klump Shipping Company, which provided half their cadets. They were about to bring this year's fresh new batch aboard - a couple dozen strapping lads, some as young as twenty-three. The Triton was a proud and ambitious ship, fit to travel the world. It needed all the muscle it could get. And there were bound to be several guys among them who were, as their parents said, light in the loafers.

At least a dozen people were now regulars in the barrel room. Captain Bjørn, of course, was always the big prize. All the cocksuckers had now, at least once, heard that shy knock, followed by that deep voice saying "I'm too big to fit."

The chef decorated the room in the days ahead. He pasted gay porn on the walls - sketches he'd gathered all over the world from opium dens and cabarets. Sam the mechanic helped out too, lining the shelves with spare tins of lubricating oil.

It was rare for Mikey to even use the barrel itself anymore, unless of course the guy asked. He would climb out and give him a handjob, or suck him if he was interested. He wanted to feel the full experience - and also to give it. The sculpted treasure of a man's body, the smell of his lust, the rapturous look in his eyes as he came. Everything.

Mikey was a legendary cocksucker, even talked about by some of the straight (or so they claimed to be) cadets. On his two days - Tuesday and Saturday - he was very busy indeed. There was a reason he was so good.

He learned their habits.

George was a baby-gay type, away from his wife for the first time. Mikey made sure to warm him up with foreplay, helping him come out of his shell. He had large and extremely sensitive nipples, which the twink squeezed, licked, kissed, and lightly bit on as he worked his cock and balls with both hands. George also had very intense orgasms, and would go popeyed and wide-mouthed, stomping randomly around the floor, while pulses of his seed flew out of him, Mikey catching them with a handkerchief or a rag.

Terry showed up on Tuesdays, getting a release right after work hours. He was a Latino cadet from Acapulco, slim and covered in soft black fur. Terry loved to be kissed, and Mikey would apply smooches and suctions all over his body while his hand applied strokes to his long, narrow cock. When his orgasm approached, Mikey popped him into his mouth, letting his tongue finish the job.

Bastien got fierce morning wood, sometimes making it difficult for him to sleep. Mikey started a new time slot in the mornings, before he cooked breakfast, and Bastien would show up with a raging hard-on, asking to be jerked. The twink would probe his tracing fingers around Bastien's huge ebony balls and up and down the shaft, and he would bite his lips and suck air in from the sensation. He also shot off hefty loads, big enough to cover Mikey's face almost completely.

Calum and Hamish were the brothers. Twins, but fraternal. They were two well-built dockers with ginger hair, big biceps, and that rosy shine in their cheeks. They had agreed that Calum would only use the barrel on weekdays and Hamish on weekends.

Only Calum liked oral. He shaved his pubic hair, making his eight-inch shaft appear even more giant and highlighting its base, where he was most sensitive. Mikey deep-throated him each week, drooling and vibrating his lips around the root.

Having saved up for five days, Hamish ran in desperately every Saturday evening with a steel-hard boner. His prick head was big, pink, leathery, and moist, sticking out beneath his thick red pubic mat. Mikey applied a light layer of lube and a firm handjob focused on the head, and Hamish usually blew his load within two minutes.

Sam had a short and very thick shaft, and couldn't cum just from being sucked. He was more sensitive further behind, and loved being licked on his perineum and his fat, furry balls. Mikey was intoxicated by their scent, warm sopping sweat packed with the hormones of the virile bull. Rubbing him firmly on the taint often brought him over the edge, and he would dissolve into deep growls and grunts while he shot.

Walt was a shy young cadet, maybe mid-twenties, who still preferred the glory hole. He had pearly papules - little studded fleshy bumps around the flare of his circumcised head. Mikey would hop back into the barrel when Walt arrived, opening his mouth inside to receive that beautifully shaped head, licking every one of its angles with the tip of his tongue.

Stanley, the old mariner, meant business. He would march into the room, drop his britches in a flash, and pound on the wall, commanding in his deep booming voice to be blown. Stanley had abundant brown hair on his chest, with trails on his belly. His balls were small and compact, and he barked orders at Mikey to tug and stroke at his sack while he sucked. He rarely finished, but they both loved the journey.

First mate Alan and captain Bjørn both had a dominant side too, and they loved to be called "sir." At the end of their 69s, Bjørn liked to be swallowed, or even better deep-throated, filling the blond's insides with humongous pulses of his alpha sperm, which smelled like mushrooms. Alan, in contrast, liked Mikey to pull his mouth off him before he finished, his sculpted prick head blasting hot white trails across his face.

Mauritz was a little guy. His dick was cut, and it made very little precum. Mikey had to slather him up with lots of lube. But he was a grower, and when he got hard, the white skin of the head and shaft filled up with purple, lusty blood, swelling to almost seven inches. As Mikey beat Mauritz's meat, he held him lovingly in his arms, kissing him on the cheeks.

Doctor David - his first name, or his last name, or both? - and his lover, Harold, had not visited the barrel thus far. Rumor had it that Harold had a Prince Albert piercing.

Tuesday evening had once again arrived, and Mikey made his way toward the hatch at the back of the kitchen, then descended the ladder, rehearsing the guys' habits in his mind as he always did. He wondered how many new ones he'd soon have to memorize when the new class got on board. But it didn't matter. He could learn a hundred habits. The reward was totally worth it.

Old Blind Reemus was mopping the lower deck as Mikey made his way into the warehouse. He passed him, and they threw each other the tiniest, most reserved grin. This was the easiest one.

Reemus liked to be spooned.