At first Chet thought the older man staring at him from across the bar at the top of the cruise ship was Jamaican. The man engaged his attention because he had the most compelling light-gray eyes, which went really well with his silver-gray hair and the black suit with black silky shirt and black tie with a hash pattern of silver strands. But the thought that the man was black was partially because the man had been in the shadows. When he came over and sat next to Chet, the college student could see that it was just because the man was olive skinned and had a really deep tan. It had been a glint from the strobe light in the bar glancing off the man's heavy, gold signet ring, which he wore on the middle finger of his right hand that had caught Chet's attention in the first place. It was only then that Chet became aware that the man was watching him.
Chet had come up to the bar late on the night of the cruise ship's departure from Tampa, Florida, for a five-day cruise to the Cayman Islands and Cozumel, Mexico, to escape the razing of his fraternity mates. The whole fraternity was on the cruise for spring break, and they had dubbed this the "get Chet laid" memorial cruise. They thought Chet was the only virgin in the fraternity, and they had decided to remedy this on the cruise. They now were down in one of the fraternity guys' cabin and gangbanging a drunken college girl. Chet had been dragged into the cabin and told that "this was his night," but he'd managed to escape and had come up to the bar at the top of the ship where the rich, old people hung out. He trusted his frat brothers wouldn't come looking for him here.
"Are you flying solo tonight, young man? Or do you welcome company?"
He had a smooth, baritone voice, and his speech was as refined as he looked. There was a bit of an accent. Something South American maybe. He could be an Argentine or a Brazilian. He must be in his fifties, Chet thought. But he was in really good shape for an old man. Chet was interested. He'd come on the cruise looking for something, but not for what his frat brothers were looking for for him. He couldn't reveal his interests to them, of course. It was hard enough revealing them to himself. But he was pretty sure he was gay. He was sort of hoping to find that out on this cruise.
Chet actually had deeper hopes than that. He was sort of interested in finding an older man to take care of him. Studying sports management was OK—he liked all sorts of sports and they kept him in great shape—but a cousin of his was living with an older man and taking care of him physically and the older man took care of him very well financially, and Chet fantasized the possibility of doing the same someday.
Not that Chet was really up on what a life of sex with an older man was all about. He'd fantasized the act with another man many times—usually with an assistant football coach at the university Chet worked with who was named Bud and was in his late thirties. But his actual experience with it had been limited and fumbled. The previous summer he'd worked as a counselor at a boys' camp, and the senior counselor and he had done just about everything with each other—kissing, hand jobs, mutual masturbation, and Chet had even gotten his cock in the other guy a little way—but neither of them had lasted more than thirty seconds at that. They had both been just too excited and inexperienced. Still, it told Chet that his interest was in men, not women.
Not that he'd ever let his frat brothers know that, if he could help it. It was such a bother, though, that they were determined to do something about it on this cruise. All of them, of course, fucked college girls like they were rabbits—and they were in what was a jock fraternity at Florida State University in Tallahassee, which was a major sports university. They could nail just about any coed there they wanted. Chet, a strawberry blond hunk, was as good looking as any of them. It was getting a little obvious that he was odd man out in the hetero college experience.
It was time for him to declare one way or the other, and if he declared the other, his days in the fraternity—and maybe even at FSU—were numbered.
"Sure, I'd like the company," Chet answered, hoping that the trembling inside him couldn't be discerned by the man. Chet found the mysterious man arousing, despite his age. He seemed so assured of himself and he was so good looking in a mature way, his chest muscles bulging under the form-fitting black silk shirt—in a muscular rather than a flabby way. And he didn't seem to have any flab on his midsection either, although he wasn't thin. He was built just like the FSU football assistant coach, Bud, who Chet fantasized about.
Chet had known that Bud had a younger man living with him, but the guy had been killed in a motorcycle accident early in Chet's freshmen year. Chet assumed the relationship between the two had been sexual, and Bud was certainly a sexy guy and he and Chet got along real well, but Chet knew so little about these things that he couldn't tell if Bud's interest was just a friend-to-friend thing or if he was interested in more. Whenever Chet thought about his cousin's arrangement of taking care of an older man, Bud was always the one who came to Chet's mind. But he just didn't know about these things.
"Let me buy you a beer," the man said, flagging down a waiter and giving him a cruise card to charge it to before Chet could respond. "You are probably the youngest and best-looking man in the bar," he said, turning back to Chet and touching the younger man's forearm with that right hand, which sported the gold signet ring and had those long, sensuous fingers. Chet got the impression that the man was a sensory by touch person—a Mediterranean type. So, maybe Italian?
"You have a slight accent I can't place," he said, not knowing anything else to say under the circumstances. He took a sip of the beer the waiter had just brought as the older man signed the charge slip. It was his third beer, and he was feeling a little disjointed—and a lot devil may care. "Are you Italian?"
"No," the man said, with a melodious laugh. "I'm Brazilian. My name is Julio. Yours?"
"And you are one of the many college students on board? But not a freshman?"
"Yes. I go to FSU—Florida State University. I'm a sophomore."
"Ah, very good."
"Yes, it's a good university."
"I'm sure it is. I meant it's very good that you are older than a college freshman. Then I would have had to ask you another question."
Chet turned to look into the Brazilian's face, and instantly the light-gray eyes possessed his. There was a slight smile on his lips. If he had been asking Chet if he was old enough to have sex, he had covered the issue effectively and smoothly. Chet half hoped this was the case. He was still skittish, but he'd told himself he came on this cruise not to be, if the opportunity arose. He took a large gulp of his third beer. And then another one.
"Here, let me order you another beer," the man continued. "I'm surprised you are up in the bar with the older people. I would have thought you'd be down in the main disco having a hot time dancing or already down in one of the cabins with a young woman. You are a strapping young man; very sexy. I imagine you have no trouble luring a young woman to one of the cabins."
"I'm with a fraternity—a fraternity of college athletes—and I'm sure that's what they are doing."
"Ah, yes, I saw you with a group of other beautiful and muscular young men at the pool before we sailed this afternoon. You are perhaps a champion swimmer or a football or basketball player?"
"None of those, actually. I'm in sports management, but I do play all of those sports. I'm just not on the varsity teams or have an athletic scholarship like most of my fraternity brothers."
"And these fraternity brothers are, perhaps, down in the cabins now having their way with young women?"
Chet gulped the last of the current beer, and Julio snapped his fingers. A waiter materialized instantly, and Chet had another beer in front of him.
"Just with one, actually," he answered. The beer was loosening his tongue as well as his inhibitions.
"Several young men fucking one young woman. What do they call it? A gang bang?"
"And they wanted you to do that too?"
"Yes," Chet admitted, after taking a gulp of beer. "They wanted me to fuck her too. They are calling this the 'get Chet laid' cruise. That's my name, Chet. Sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier."
"No matter." Julio put a hand on one of Chet's thighs above the knee, and applied a bit of pressure. Chet felt the touch go through his body with an electric jolt. He took another swig of the beer.
"But you didn't want that sort of sex, did you?" Julio asked. "You wanted something else. Perhaps something with an older man. An experienced man, perhaps?"
"Perhaps," Chet answered in a small voice.
"Tell me, do you like to fuck men or do you like men to fuck you?"
Chet was in the middle of downing more beer and he snorted a bit up into his nose and had to stop and cough and sneeze.
"I'm sorry, have I offended you?" Julio asked. His hand had gone higher on Chet's thigh.
"No, you haven't offended me," Chet answered, determination in his voice. Julio's palm went to Chet's groin and cupped his package. Chet felt his legs go to jelly and he softly moaned.
"So, the question I asked then."
"I don't know. I don't really know what I like."
"Ah, little experience in what you want?"
"Yes, I'm sorry. But that's right."
"Oh, that's very lovely. Willing, though, are you? To explore the options?"
"With another man?"
"With an older, experienced man?"
"You'd like to experience it all? Then you can decide what of it you want?" The Brazilian was letting his fingers move lightly along the line of Chet's cock inside the material of his shorts and then back up to the root. Down again and then up. It was be difficult for Chet to get any harder.
"Yes." It was barely a whisper.
"Then, if you come with me, we can find out. I really am very good at both giving and taking. You will come with me, won't you?"
"Yes, I'll come with you," Chet answered weakly, all of his attention going to that palm now holding and slightly squeezing his package. There was no hiding from Julio that Chet wanted it.
"Then drink up your beer and come with me. I think we will take a stroll on the swim deck. It should be deserted at this late hour."
"So, we're going to . . ."
"Yes, Chet, we're going to fuck."
Chet shuddered, but he downed his beer and rose unsteadily on his feet.
* * * *
Julio stopped at the side of the darkened swimming pool and drew Chet into an embrace.
"Has a man ever kissed you?"
"Yes, but . . ." The rest of his sentence was choked off by Julio's lips finding his. He was being held close into the Brazilian's chest by the embrace of one arm. He didn't have to wonder where Julio's right hand was. Although his ears were buzzing from the beer and the music from the disco below was wafting up to the deserted swimming pool decks, he could clearly hear and feel the lowering of the zipper of his fly. He jerked and tried, successfully, to move in Julio's embrace, but Julio's lips were forcing his open and the Brazilian's tongue invaded Chet's mouth cavity. Chet moaned at the feel of the grasp of Julio's hand on his cock and the feel of the underside of the gold signet ring moving up and down on the engorging shaft.
Breaking away from the kiss but not the stroking, Julio whispered, "Has a man ever kissed you like this?"
"No, nothing like this," Chet answered with a gasp.
"Do you want to stop here, or do you want more?"
"I want it all," Chet murmured. And he did. This is what he came for. And Julio was so sophisticated and seemed to be rich. Maybe Chet's dream for the future . . .
* * * *
Chet was arching his back on a lounge bed on the upper level of the pool area in a hidden area tucked around at the side of the climbing wall. His mouth was open and slack as he panted heavily, in awe and climbing to the clouds in ecstasy. His hands were gripping and separating Julio's buttocks as the Brazilian, reversed on Chet's pelvis, rode the young college student's cock. Julio's arms encircled Chet's muscular thighs and calves in a bent position, with Chet's feet flat on the opposing edges of the lounge bed, and Julio's torso arched away from Chet's head between the bent legs. Julio was doing all of the work of rising and falling on Chet's cock, which the Brazilian had sheathed with a condom.
Trying to hold his ejaculation, Chet concentrated on the whiteness of the Brazilian's globular buttocks, clearly showing the tan lines of a bikini bathing suit. But in his excitement, he couldn't hold himself long and filled out the bulb of the rubber. Never had he been clutched and taken so deep. This was heaven. It was truly child's play he had been engaging in at the instigation of the senior camp counselor.
Julio rose off the cock, hopped off the lounge bed, and swung around between Chet's spread legs. "Now I fuck you."
The tan lines that had mesmerized Chet from the Brazilian's rear, had the same effect from the front. If anything, it made Julio's erect cock seem larger than it possibly was. The cock was sheathed already.
Chet moaned. "Oh, god, you're going to do it, aren't you? I haven't . . . be good to me. I haven't—"
His speech was stopped by Julio's possession of his mouth with his as he crouched over Chet's torso between his spread and bent legs. One of the Brazilian's hands gripped the nape of Chet's neck to hold him in place and, while still searching Chet's mouth with his tongue, his right hand slipped the condom off Chet's cock and tossed it aside. He gripped the two cocks together and stroked them. Chet was writhing under him. Julio pulled out of the kiss and whispered in the smooth, rich, slightly accented baritone of his, "Calm down, son, I will be gentle with you the first time and then I will give you the experience of what real fucking is."
The first time! raced through Chet's mind, but before he could react, Julio's mouth had taken possession of his again and Julio had reached down between Chet's legs and he was rimming Chet's hole with the chunky gold signet ring.
Chet began to pant heavily. He lurched and broke away from the kiss as the ring finger, the middle one on Julio's right hand, began working itself into Chet's channel, searching for and finding, the prostate. "Oh, god, oh, god. Oh shit! Fuckkk!" Chet cried out.
With his left hand, Julio raised Chet's right leg up his torso and instructed Chet to raise his left leg on his other shoulder, which the young man did, with a groan, all of his attention focused on the finger working inside his channel and the signet ring revolving around on the rim of his hole. Julio dipped down to kiss him again. Within minutes, Chet experienced a second ejaculation.
Julio broke the kiss and said, "Any man fuck you like this?"
"No, no one," Chet murmured.
The Brazilian encircled Chet's waist with his left arm and elevated Chet's pelvis. Julio's lips moved down to Chet's nipples. Chet arched his shoulder's back and sighed at the attention being given to both his prostate and his nipples. His eyes opened wide and he let out a little cry as the finger was extracted and he felt the bulb of the hard cock at his channel opening.
Julio kept his promise. He entered Chet slowly, giving him time to open further after the finger had done the initial spreading. When he was fully saddled, he raised up, his arm still under Chet's waist and brought Chet's pelvis higher, arching Chet's shoulder blades back on the surface of the lounge bed at an acute angle.
He slowing began to pump and Chet moaned and groaned underneath him.
"Is this what your fraternity brothers are doing to young women in their cabins below?"
"Yes, yes, probably. Oh shit, oh, fuck."
"And this is what they want you to be doing to young women down there too?"
"So, do you want to go below now? Or do you want one of those young, hung hunks fucking you?"
"No, no. I want you. Fuck me!"
Julio complied, muttering after having taken several strokes.
"What? What's the matter?" Chet asked in a frightened voice.
"Nothing. You are a natural. I was just expressing pleasure at how much you open up. You could take two cocks. You're a natural."
"Two cocks? Oh, shit."
"No matter. Not tonight at least. But you did say you wanted to experience it all." He went back to grunting quietly and working the channel with his cock, while Chet moaned and writhed in slow motion under him. He didn't go to completion inside the passage, though, at this point. Julio pulled out of Chet's channel and slipped the condom off. "You wanted it all. I'm going to cream your face and you're going to clean my cock."
Chet looked on with eyes wide open, and Julio stroked his cock, let Chet's ankles slip off his shoulders and his feet lower to each side of the lounge bed. Julio moved his body up to where he was standing, feet on either side of the lounge bed, at Chet's waist. He ejaculated his cum onto Chet's face and then lowered his cock and pushed it between Chet's lips. Wanting it all, and overwhelmed at getting so much of it at one time, Chet opened his mouth to the cock.
When Julio rose up, he stayed standing over Chet's pelvis and smiled down on Chet as he continued stroking his cock. Chet looked on with wonder at the still-hard dick and the ball sac, emphasized by the tan lines of the man's pelvis. His body was magnificent—not just for a man of his age, but for a man of any maturity. His black chest hair, with just a hint of gray that shimmered in the moonlight, swirled around his pecs in silky curls and ran down his sternum and belly into his pubic hair.
Admiration for the man's virility transitioned into realizing that the man had just fucked him in the ass and had shot off, but was still hard. Was he using Viagra, Chet wondered. Then, with a moan, the commercials warning of four-hour hard-ons with Viagra entered his mind.
Almost on cue, he saw Julio picking up another condom packet. "Now I fuck you again. A real fuck."
Chet was on all fours on the surface of the lounge. Julio, standing behind Chet and between his legs, had his left arm under the young man's belly again, holding him in place. The Brazilian was cupping Chet's chin and arching the young man's torso back to him. He was pounding Chet's channel hard and deep as Chet, screaming, but unable to fully vocalize because his mouth was stuffed with his underpants, writhed and took his first real total fuck.
When he hobbled back to his interior cabin on Deck 2, which he shared with his best friend in the fraternity, Pat, Chet tried to be quiet, but that just wasn't possible in a pitch-black interior cabin at night. When he stumbled over a chair, a bed light came on and Pat sat up in bed, bleary eyed.
"What time is it?"
"You don't want to know," Chet whispered, looking beyond Pat, who was naked down to where the covers started, to the lump of the sheets on the other side of him in the twin bed. There was flowing blond hair.
"Did you do it? Get laid?"
"Maybe," Chet whispered. Pat wasn't like the other frat brothers. He was a no-share guy. That girl in his bed would have been his alone tonight and he wouldn't have been involved in the gang bang the other guys had tried to rope Chet into. He probably wouldn't even know about it. He did his own hunting and his own screwing. Of course he did as much screwing as any of the other guys.
"You know the guys aren't going to take a 'maybe,' don't you?"
"I'm gonna take a shower, but you want me to find someplace else to sleep?"
"Naw, it's all good. I know you won't want a piece of this one. That's why we're rooming together."
Chet almost laughed. Pat picked me because I'm safe for what he does and I picked him because he's safe for what I want, Chet thought. Under the shower he luxuriated in calling back to mind every liberating and educating stroke of pain and passion and unfettered giving and taking he had engaged in with the Brazilian man. Maybe Julio picked him because he saw something in Chet he wanted for a longer time than just a casual fuck.
He still had his frat brothers to worry about, though. Somewhere along the line during this cruise he was going to have to do something to satisfy them.
* * * *
Chet had to leave the next morning—late the next morning—as quietly as he had tried to come into the cabin earlier that morning. The blond, moaning deeply, was on her back, her hands over her head, gripping the top of the headboard of Pat's bed, with one of her ankles hooked on the small of the young black stud's back, as he fucked her in a slow, deep mining. Chet knew how hung Pat was, and he somewhat envied the girl having such a big, thick dick inside her. Overnight Chet had learned how glorious it was to be fucked by a man. And Pat, the football halfback, was one hung man.
But Chet would never even hint at doing it with Pat. He was a fraternity brother. Chet's preferences could never be revealed in the fraternity.
After hitting the ship's buffet restaurant and wolfing down everything in sight to refuel after the exercise he'd gotten the previous night, Chet moved on to the swimming pool. He staked out a lounge bed among the fraternity brothers—or several of them—on the pool level, stripped down to his Speedo, dove into the pool, and did laps until the pool area began to fill up and there no longer was lap room in the pool.
When he pulled out of the pool and went to his lounge bed, he saw that Julio was reclining on the bed directly across from his. The older man smiled an indulgent smile at him, and the strawberry blood did a total body blush, complete with a noticeable filling out of his Speedo pouch.
He was barely down on his back on his lounge bed, with his legs bent and working on his arousal by looking down the line of his body and the hump of his basket to a view of Julio framed by the bent legs when his frat brother, Steve, moved into the frame and glared down at him.
"It's time to get with the program, Jackass. Time for you to get laid. We've got two willing girls down in Darnell's cabin. It's time you joined the gang."
"I just got out of the pool, Steve. I'll be down there when I dry off."
"You'd better be there and join in. It's all for one and one for all in this fraternity, you know, and It's embarrassing to have a virgin in our midst into his sophomore year."
"Who said I was a virgin, Steve? I'm more like Pat than like you guys, though."
"You're not enough like Pat where it counts," Steve said, with a laugh. "I've seen you. We can't live together like we do without all the guys knowing how all the rest are equipped. You're hung, dude, but you're not horse hung like Pat is. Come on, guys. Duty calls down in Darnell's cabin. The ladies are getting restless." The frat brothers around Chet rose off their lounge beds and started milling around, ready to leave, anxious to be getting into the young ladies. When they'd done so, Julio sat up on his lounge bed, ready to come over and join Chet, when his plans were short circuited.
"Are these lounges taken, young man?"
Chet looked up as two women materialized at the foot of his lounge bed. Two women so redone that it was difficult to tell their ages, but they weren't young or even middle aged, he didn't think. Two women bulging out of their bikinis, but bulging in all the right places, thanks to their expensive plastic surgeons. The one who had asked him the question introduced herself as Margaret. The other, somewhat younger and more attractive one—but still more than double, or maybe triple, Chet's age—was introduced by the first as Sheila. But she didn't speak at that point. She was too busy eating Chet up with her eyes.
"Certainly, the lounge beds are free," Chet choked out the words. "I'll move over one, so the two of you can be side by side."
"Oh, that isn't necessary, doll," the one named Sheila now spoke. "We'll take the ones bookending that hunky body of yours."
As they moved into place and began to put the make on Chet from either side, Chet managed to look over to Julio, who was giving him a wicked grin.
Luckily, by the time Chet was dry from his swim, Margaret had toddled off for a drink and Sheila had conveniently broken the strap on her bikini top, which had the planned effect of flashing her ample breasts at Chet, but also gave her the problem of what to do to fix the problem. For a brief moment that they were gone, Julio rose off his lounge bed and handed Chet a cabin key as he walked off, saying only, "It's on Deck 3, it's arranged, and the arrangement includes a new experience for you, unless you don't want to experience it all."
Chet quickly gathered up his shorts and athletic T and followed Julio down eight flights of stairs to the bowels of the ship.
It was another interior cabin reached off an interior corridor. A black, substantially sized room steward, Chet was told was Nigerian, was waiting at the door. He had a big grin on his face. Julio was already in the room, naked. He told Chet the cabin was an unassigned one. He didn't tell Chet why they couldn't meet in Julio's cabin. Chet knew, though, that they couldn't meet in his cabin.
He fucked Julio from behind, bent over the bed, while the Nigerian fucked him from behind.
It was a whole new experience. Chet had gotten laid again in a whole new way.
He spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding his frat brothers.
At dinner that night, he was passing through the dining room, suddenly energized to size up all of the men in the room. Two aroused him as he passed by them and made eye contact. One was in his thirties and was sitting with a much older, toad-like man. Knowing what Chet knew now about the attraction of men to other men, he could have sworn that these two were a couple—that the younger man, was taking care of a richer, older man in exchange for financial security and some of the finer things in life, like this cruise.
That's what Chet's cousin had and it was what Chet was coming to believe he wanted as well.
The younger man was staring at someone at another table. Chet followed his gaze and saw another man, sitting between two older women. The man was in his forties, but he was strikingly good looking. It was just that sort of man Chet was looking for. And maybe the man with the old toad was thinking the same thing. Maybe the toad was on his last legs, and the man sitting between the two women was being cultivated to replace the toad.
There were the two women, though, who the good-looking man was sitting with. He probably was with one. . . . Wait, he thought, the two women. He focused on them. Margaret and Sheila from the pool. He covered the side of his face pointed toward the women and hurried on.
Steve tracked Chet down at dinner.
"You didn't show this afternoon," he said sternly.
"I had a show of my own," Chet replied, deciding a little deception was in order. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not a virgin anymore. Mission accomplished. We all can relax." Basically Chet wasn't lying. He didn't see the need for details. He had been gloriously laid on the cruise, thank you very much. More than once.
Steve did. "Where's the proof?"
"Used condoms. Photos."
Shit, Chet thought. He could have supplied used condoms. A photo was another can of worms, though.
"I'm tired of supplying the babes, dude. You find one on your own now. You seem to think you have. And supply used condoms and photos."
"I'm not interested in college girls," Chet said, as a means of retreat. "I like a sex partner with experience." That was true too. Chet could say that with a straight face. Julio had all the experience Chet needed. Even the Nigerian room steward had sent him over the rainbow. He was as hung as Pat was.
"So, pick out an old broad. Just get the proof, or we'll keep razzing you. Some of the guys are beginning to wonder about you. They're not sure they want to share a head with you when we get back to Tallahassee."
"They don't have trouble with Pat's preferences," Chet fired back. "He doesn't go for any of your gang bangs either."
"Yeah, well, Pat supplied the proof. And you need to also."
Chet was still contemplating that when Julio passed by and said, "Up for a quickie on Deck 3 again?"
He certainly was. He sat on the side of the bed, and Julio sat on his cock, facing away from him, and used Chet's cock like a gearshift. Chet wanted to be fucked after Julio was finished in that position, but Julio said he had other plans for the evening.
"Why this cabin, though?" Chet was brave enough to ask. "Don't you have a cabin?"
"I have a very nice cabin. My wife likes it too, though, and when she isn't playing cards in the game room—which she doesn't incessantly, she likes to relax in our cabin."
Ah, shit, Chet thought. He should have known that there were impediments with Julio. And that put paid too to any thoughts of there being a future with Julio. Even if he wanted to leave his wife for Chet—and he'd shown no indication that he wanted to do anything more than fuck Chet silly and be fucked in turn—Chet wasn't about to get in the middle of a hetero arrangement.
Chet was careful to save the condom he'd used and slipped into his shorts pocket. He had no idea how he'd get photos, but at least he had this. Steve wouldn't know the condom was from sex with a man rather than a woman.
Julio departing early didn't mean that Chet went unfucked. The Nigerian room steward was willing and anxious to take care of that. In addition to being as hung as Pat, the Nigerian had the stamina of Julio. He also had no interest in using the bed. He pushed Chet up against a wall and insinuated his knees between Chet's thighs and spread them. He slid Chet's torso up the wall and brought his channel down on his huge cock. Chet cried out in pain and ecstasy. The Nigerian took time out to stuff Chet's underwear in his mouth again to cut down on the noise, and then put Chet in the same position—sliding his back up the wall and then pulling him back down on the cock.
Chet began to pant heavily. He screamed silently into the cotton of his briefs as the big black pulled him down on the cock again. Then again . . . and again . . . and again. Faster and harder. The cock was long and thick. Chet hooked his legs on the big Nigerian's hips and held on for dear life, as the Nigerian slammed him up and down on the cock. Chet came sometime before the Nigerian did—his mind substituted Pat for the black room steward—and was as limp as a rag when the Nigerian let him sink to the floor.
But, like Julio, the Nigerian didn't go soft. He merely discarded the spent condom and pulled on another. He hauled Chet off the floor and flung him, belly down, over the back of a club chair, and fucked him again doggy style.
Chet was walking bowlegged and hitting both walls of the corridor as he lurched down the hallway and then down the stairs to his own cabin on the deck below. If anyone had seen him, they just would have assumed he was drunk. Nearly all of the college students on the ship were drunk by this time of day.
Pat and a brunette were fucking when Chet reached his room. He was getting back earlier tonight than last. Pat was on his back, and the brunette was riding his cock. Pat had his eyes closed and a little smile on his face when Chet came in. Without losing the rhythm of her pattern of revolving on and rising and falling on the big, black cock, the brunette looked at Chet through slitted eyes. Chet got the impression she wouldn't have minded if he joined the fuck. She sat back on Pat's pelvis and the fingers of one hand went to working her clit. She was leaning far enough back for Chet to see that Pat's cock was in her ass. Her look was a clear invitation to Chet to fill her elsewhere with his cock.
He briefly entertained the idea of doing so, and taking photos. Pat would have to verify to Steve and the rest of the frat brothers that Chet had carried through with the initiation. But Pat also would be pissed. And no one wanted to piss off Pat, especially Chet.
Chet stripped back down—he had showered in the other cabin after the Nigerian had left him draped over the back of the club chair and moaning softly—and turned full frontal to the brunette.
"Oh, sweet jezuzz," she exclaimed. "Come to Momma, you red-haired stud. I have a free glove for that luscious cock."
But Chet just shrugged, pointed to Pat, and murmured, "He wouldn't like it. And then you wouldn't like it either."
She put on a pout, but she hadn't stopped riding the cock. Chet climbed into his own bed, turned his head to the wall, and pretend he didn't hear the sounds of sex. Pat had come alive, obviously having been listening to the brunette's offer and Chet's demur. And he was punishing the brunette. He was on top of her now and pounding her in alternate holes mercilessly. And by everything Chet could hear, the brunette was loving every stroke of it.
* * * *
When Chet woke up in the morning—with the ship's arrival in the Cayman Islands, where Chet and most of the other fraternity guys had signed up for a snorkeling and beach excursion, Pat was still fucking the brunette—or had started again. She was spread-eagled on the bed, with pillows under her belly. Her head was hanging over the end of the bed, her eyes were glazed over, and her mouth was hanging out, as was her tongue. She was humming softly.
Pat knelt between her spread legs, and he was holding her wide hips in his big hands and slow-fucking her ass. Pulling out all the way and then gliding in to the hilt. And then repeating. There were at least four spent condoms on the floor by the bed.
Chet had the impression Pat was doing this for his sake—not angry, with him, at least, for being propositioned to join them earlier in the morning, since Chet had refused. But letting his friend know, in no uncertain terms, that what was his was his alone.
Chet got the message. He'd already figured that out.
Considering how Chet had left Pat, he was surprised to find his cabin mate lined up for the excursion on Grand Cayman in the morning to catch the tender to the island to snorkel the wreck of the USS Kittiwake off Kittiwake Beach and to enjoy some beach time. Several of the other fraternity brothers, including Steve, were taking the tour. Chet was both surprised and happy to see that both of the men he'd seen at dinner and had been aroused by—the guy with the toad at one table and the older man who had been bookended by the two cougars at the other table—were on the excursion.
As they were getting on the tender from the ship, Steve leaned into Chet and hissed in his ear, "Proof or we'll do a forced set-up on you that you can't wriggle out of. You are going to get laid on this cruise, little brother."
"I've probably already been laid more than you have on this cruise, big brother," Chet shot back and then moved to where Pat had found a place. Chet was amazed that Pat looked so fresh after a long night of vigorous sex.
"Didn't expect to see you here, bro," he whispered to Pat when he'd taken his place in the tender and it set off for the Grand Cayman pier. "The way you were going at it with that young brunette, I thought you'd have to sleep the rest of the day off."
"Young?" Pat said with a chuckle. "I admit she didn't look old, but the piece was easily forty."
"Forty? You're right. She didn't look like it. And the blonde the night before?"
"You could get any of the college girls on board you wanted. Why . . .?"
"I can get any college girls I want at FSU. The cruise is an opportunity for some variety. And didn't Benjamin Franklin say something about young men doing best to fuck older women—because older woman had more experience than younger women and would be all the more grateful for the fuck?"
"Seems I've heard that, yes," Chet answered. "Although I don't think he said it in those words. Thought you were literally going to fuck the shit out of that brunette, though."
"She loved it. Begged me to do her again tonight. Have my eyes on another woman, though."
"So, older women," Chet said.
"Yeah, you should try it. They know how to please and are pleased to have young muscle studs like us doing 'em. I've been offered money. I take it sometime back in Tallahassee. But I'm on vacation here. Just want to plow my way through as many of them as I can."
Even as he said it, he was making eye contact with an auburn-haired woman in her late forties, probably, but well preserved, who was sitting facing them a couple of rows away in the tender. Chet expected to see the two of them going at it in the bushes before the tour was over. And, indeed, when the bus stopped at Kittiwake Beach, Pat was off before Chet was and was in pursuit of the woman he'd been eyeing. Chet didn't have the slightest doubt that Pat would land and spike her.
The assistants of the tour guide busied themselves staking out a section of the beach for the participants, while the latter were being issued snorkeling gear. They were all going to swim out no more than fifty feet into the water, where a derelict ship, the USS Kittiwake, had been sunk a couple of decades earlier to provide the foundation for formation of a coral reef. This already was progressing well and all sorts of sea life had moved in. Now it was a destination for cruise ship passengers wanting to do some snorkeling.
Chet had trouble getting his snorkel gear untangled, and before he knew it someone was saying, "Here, let me help." He looked up into a pair of light-gray eyes and a friendly smile—and almost hyperventilated. It was the man who had been with the toad guy at the dining room table the previous night. And he was holding Chet's hands in his. Chet couldn't control his trembling, and the other man surely noticed that he was.
"There, I think that's got it. Are you one of the gagillion college students aboard the cruise ship?"
"Yep, that would be me. I'm cruising on spring break with my fraternity brothers."
"I've seen you around, but not with a rowdy bunch."
"I go separate ways from my fraternity brothers on some things," Chet said, only now taking his hand away from the man's. They were both in skimpy Speedos, and neither could miss that the other one was aroused.
Chet knew he looked good in a Speedo. Sports were his life, he was movie-star handsome, and he was well endowed. He was impressed, though, that he held nothing over this older man. The man moved with the grace of an athlete or dancer and, though muscled, he wasn't heavily so. He was lithe, smooth-bodied and without an ounce of fat on him. Most important, as the Speedo revealed, he was horse hung. And at the moment he was at least half hard. Chet hoped that the arousal was for him, although the older hunk who had been sitting between Margaret and Sheila also was on this tour—and looking great for any age—and the gray-eyed guy was sneaking glances at him even while he was talking with Chet.
"Meaning you have different sexual preferences from most of your buddies?"
"Excuse me?" Chet said after he was able to catch his breath.
"I've seen you with the Brazilian who haunts the bar at the top of the ship. I know what he likes to do. Tell me, do you fuck men or do they fuck you? I'm really interested."
Chet gulped. "I guess some of both," he managed to squeak out.
The man took his hand again. "My name is Travis, and I would like to get to know you better. Maybe drinks after dinner tonight for starters?" And then when Chet didn't answer right away, being flustered by the man's brashness. "I'm sorry if I'm being too direct, but I don't waste time pursuing what I want. I've been watching you. I want a hook up, unless you're not interested—or are too scared."
"But you're with another man, an older man," Chet said, the words stumbling out.
"Conrad? Yes, I'm with Conrad. But if you've seen us, you've probably correctly figured that there's not much sex going on between us anymore. But Conrad does enjoy watching me fuck other men. Have you ever done that—been watched by a third man?"
"I . . . uh . . ." Chet guessed that Julio and the Nigerian room steward had spent some time watching the other with Chet, but he hadn't paid much attention to that.
"And some light bondage. You ever allowed yourself to be completely incapacitated during sex? It gives you an incredible high."
"No. Never," Chet said, with a little gasp.
"You scared of what you and I could do together?"
"Yes . . . a little."
"But aroused and curious?"
"Good. Then you'll meet me in the Rose bar on board, say at 8:00 tonight?"
Chet merely nodded his acquiescence.
"Good. I'll give you a fuck you'll remember. Got to go now, though. I have other fish to fry."
The older hunk was sinking into the water to go snorkeling around the shipwreck. The forward Travis followed him into the water.
Later Chet met the other man, whose name was Doug, at the beach bar as they all were drying off from their swim. Travis seemed to have disappeared. Doug was a jeweler from New York and asked Chet a lot of questions about his life and likes and aspirations, only slowly working around to the sexual. Work around to the sexual he did, however, and the questions Doug got around to asking and the time he took getting there made Chet think that Doug's interest in him might be longer term than just a tumble in the hay. This both frightened and aroused Chet. This was the sort of hook up he'd been dreaming about when he came on this cruise. Of course his fantasies of this had the face on it of Bud, the assistant football coach, but this Doug was a lot like the coach in many ways. He was about the same age, and he was as handsome and well built as the coach was.
"I come down to Florida often, but have you ever thought of maybe living in a big city in the north, like New York, after college?" Doug asked. He already was leaning into the barstool that Chet was sitting on and had an arm draped around the back of Chet's barstool. "Or even finishing off college in New York. I'm sure they have an excellent sports management program at NYU or Colombia."
"Uh, no, I haven't thought about that," Chet said. But then he added, "But it's certainly something to think about." He was letting Doug do the leaning. He was getting a little skittish. This was so much what he had hoped to be getting into on this cruise. Much more than the exotic sex. Not that he didn't really, really like that too. He was learning so much so fast.
"Do you like young men or older men? I thought maybe older men. I've seen you with that Brazilian."
Has everyone seen me with Julio, Chet wondered, in exasperation. He tensed up a bit at the mention of Julio, and Doug sat back in his chair and withdrew a little as well.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to rush you."
"Uh, you didn't rush me. You've just given me a lot to think about. I think I like older men."
"But not as old as—"
"No, no. You're fine. You're more than fine. I like you fine."
"Maybe we could meet on board sometime then, and—"
"I'm sure that would be—"
A shrill voice, dripping with sarcasm broke in. "There you are Chet. Wondered where you'd gone off to. We have something for you over here. Come with me, dude."
Chet turned to see that his frat brother, Steve, was bearing down on him. A couple of other fraternity brothers were walking with him. They were strutting and punching each other's arms, and generally acting frisky.
"That's Steve, the frat president," Chet turned to Doug and said. "When he calls I gotta go. But . . ."
"But you'd be willing to meet me on the ship."
"I . . . I—"
"Come on, dude, let's do this thing." Steve and the frat guys hustled Chet away from the beach bar and over to the fringe of the beach some distance away and behind a couple of small fishing boats turned on their sides.
The young woman was probably a local. She was naked and voluptuous. Not much to look at in the face, but that's not what she was there for. She was backed into one of the frat boys, who also had lost his Speedo, and the two were standing close, her back to his front, with one of his arms encircling her waist and the hand of the other arm cupping one of her ample breasts. She was smiling and moaning, so it was evident she was game for this. There was little doubt the frat brother had his cock inside one of her holes.
"Time to do it, bro. Time you joined in."
Chet broke away from the two brothers who were holding his arms. "I said that I'm getting it already. I prefer older women," Chet said angrily, clutching at any reasoning he could to get out of this and remembering what Pat had said on the tender ride over from the ship about Ben Franklin's opinion on older women and sex. "I'll get your proof to get you off my back, but I'm like Pat. I don't go in for gang bangs. And I pick my own. Now just get off my back about this."
He turned and strode away before Steve could take charged and make sure he carried through. He wanted to go back and tell Doug he'd love to meet him on the ship and that he'd love to fuck him—Doug had made quite clear that he was solely a bottom. It probably was just having gotten two propositions so close together like this. Or maybe it was that Doug was hinting at a long-term relationship possibility, which is just what Chet had come on the cruise looking for. Whatever it was, Chet knew he should have said he was willing to meet Doug—was thrilled at the idea of having sex with Doug—straight out.
He felt doubly so when he got back to the beach bar, because Doug was gone.
* * * *
Chet's cheek was flat on the bedspread at the foot of the twin bed in Travis' cabin, and he was staring wildly at the lumpy old man, Conrad, sitting in a club chair only six feet away. The old man was naked, was watching Chet's eyes intently, and was pulling on his own meat.
Chet would be screaming if the ball gag in his mouth would permit him to do so, and he'd be using his arms and legs to try to scramble away from the deep thrusting of Travis' monster cock, if he could. But he was bound to the bed. His arms were pulled back along his sides and were bound at the wrist to thick straps around his thighs. His legs were bound at the ankle to restraints that traveled down to the legs of the bed at the headboard, and there was a collar around his neck with restraints pulled tight on either side and running down to the legs at the foot of the bed.
He was on his knees, with Travis crouched over his hips, fucking him hard and deep, and chanting in a raspy voice, "You love it, you love it, you love it."
And the strange thing for Chet was that Travis was right. Chet did love this. Julio had awakened in him the urge to know it all, to know everything that one man could do to another. Chet wouldn't want a steady diet of this, and this would dissuade him from any thought of an arrangement for the future with Travis. But this, right here, right now, Chet was loving. He didn't even mind that the man toad—Conrad—was watching him being bound and fucked with his eyes bugging out and his beefy hand pulling a trickle of cum out of his fat cock.
They were paying homage to Chet's body and his youth, and he was building up to one fine ejaculation.
Except that Chet was wrong. Before Travis let him go, Chet had three ejaculations. After resting from the fuck on the bed. Travis rebound Chet's wrists to his ankles and rolled him up on his shoulders on the floor, mounted him from above in reverse, and jack-hammer fucked him. The third time, with Conrad still watching and licking his chops but sitting on the bed this time, Chet was bent over the club chair, with his wrists and ankles bound to the four legs, and Travis slow-fucked him from behind. When they had both come, Travis left Chet there to watch while he went over and sank between Conrad's knees and gave the old man a long, coaxing blow job.
When Chet went down to his own cabin that night, he found himself alone. Pat was out all night, no doubt in some older woman's cabin. It gave Chet the time he needed to rethink what he wanted from this cruise and these experiences. Of them all, the man at the beach bar, Doug seemed to be the one he was most simpatico with. He was so much like the assistant football coach Chet fantasized about. And from how he was pitching Chet, it seemed he was interested in a long-term relationship. But they would have to fuck first. Chet would have to know the man could satisfy him in bed—and that he could satisfy Doug's needs.
* * * *
The next day the ship docked at Cozumel, Mexico, at 6:00 a.m. for the second of the two destination ports of the five-day cruise. In his conversation with Doug at the Grand Cayman beach bar the previous day, Doug had revealed the beach excursion he'd signed on for Cozumel. After breakfast, Chet went to the excursions desk and managed to sweet talk a young female clerk and make his way onto the same tour.
Chet saw Doug going down the stairs to Deck 2 to walk off the ship and moved to catch up with him, but the tour desk clerk delayed him, angling, he thought, for an invitation for a drink or something. By the time Doug got onto the pier and had found where the tour to the beach was gathering, people were already getting on the bus and there weren't any seats open near Doug. To Chet's surprise, Julio was on the bus as well, and there was an empty seat next to him, where Chet sat. While the bus was moving, Julio draped his towel over Chet's lap and played with Chet's cock through the tight material of the Speedo while Chet tried to act like he wasn't being aroused and panted shallowly to keep from moaning out loud.
He was sure that Doug had seen him, that he knew Chet was there, but Doug wasn't acknowledging him. Chet did almost catch up with him when they got off the bus at the beach, but Julio was pulling him aside and saying, "I don't really like this beach. I see a cab driver over there I know. He'll take us to another beach—a much more private beach."
Chet took one last look at Doug as he was being dragged toward the taxi by Julio, and Doug looked back at him. His stare was more pained than blank, but there was no doubt that he wouldn't make any offers to Chet himself.
Julio and the cab driver, introduced as Angel, did indeed seem to be close friends. Angel was middle aged but muscular, almost simian because his arms and legs seemed a bit too long for his body which, if anything, was muscle bound. He was dark skinned and had wavy black hair with some gray at the temples. As Julio talked to him, he turned hooded eyes on Chet and gave a lascivious smile and smacked his lips. Julio pressed a good deal of money in his palm as Angel looked over at Chet and inclined his head. Julio said something with a nod of his head, and the cab driver smacked his lips again, and with a smile opened the cab doors.
Julio put his arm around Chet in the backseat as the cab sped out into the countryside. He put an arm around Chet's shoulders, pulled the front of Chet's Speedo down to below his balls, and Chet lay back in the seat and closed his eyes as Julio jacked him off. Angel kept taking looks at them in the rearview mirror as the cab sped down the coastal road and smacked his lips.
Chet ejaculated before they reached the beach, which turned out to be a gay nude beach tucked away behind and surrounded by coral rock outcroppings.
Chet lay on his back on a towel on the sand, while Julio, facing him, rode his cock. With some trepidation, Chet watched Angel appear at the edge of the beach, naked, with a cock that was thin but long, and move down the beach toward them, with arms and cock swinging in a way that made him look even more simian than before. He came around below Julio and Chet's feet, grabbed Chet's legs underneath his knees and raised and spread the legs while he rolled Chet's pelvis up. Julio didn't lose purchase on Chet's cock inside him but leaned his torso over Chet's, with the heels of his hands in the sand next to Chet's shoulders, bearing his weight, and captured Chet's eyes with his to watch Chet's expression as Angel slowly skewered Chet's channel with his long cock and pumped him in long strokes.
After they had rested, Julio and Angel carried Chet between them down to and into the surf. The stopped where the water was just above their waists, and Julio murmured to Chet, "You said you wanted to experience it all. Do you still want to do that?"
"Yes," Chet answered weakly. He didn't cry out and squirm when Julio, facing him, crouched and lifted Chet's body and lowered the young man's channel onto this cock, but he certainly did, grunting and groaning, and repeating "Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit," as Angel embraced him from behind and worked his cock into the channel under Julio's and the two men counterpumped Chet from both sides in a double-penetration fuck in the rhythmically rolling surf. Chet whimpered and permitted himself to be moved about like a rag doll, but he took it.
The cab let Chet off by a bar under a tent near the pier where a party was in full swing, and Julio and Angel went off to a local bar for a victory round of beer.
Chet quaffed beer and danced with abandon on the crowded dance floor, where it was barely discernible who was partnered and who wasn't. It was the last day of Mardi Gras, which was celebration all across the Caribbean, and everyone was having a good, wild time. Chet became aware that he was being sandwiched between Margaret and Sheila in a dance. He suddenly didn't care. In fact, he suddenly had an idea borne of Steve's hectoring and what Pat had quoted from Benjamin Franklin about younger men and older women.
The two women were more than pleased and were anxious to get back to the ship as soon as Chet hinted what he wanted. The two took turns with him. He fucked Sheila first in the women's cabin, while Margaret patiently withdrew to the public areas of the ship, and then he fucked Margaret, with Sheila absent. He had insisted on this arrangement, because, while they were bent over the bed and he was fucking them from behind, he surreptitiously took the necessary photos with his cell phone, showing the line of his torso down to a half-buried cock between the woman's bulbous buttocks. Then a photo farther up their backs, showing their well-reconstructed, smooth backs and their luxurious flow of hair, of two different colors. They certainly didn't look their age in the middle of a fuck.
And Pat was right. They were experienced in making love to the cock. Sheila caught him taking the photos, but she thought it was a great idea. She let him snap photos as he took her from the front, with her lying on her back, arching her torso, and working her impossibly perfect melon breasts. She also was happy to let him click the cell phone as she knelt in front of him and cleaned his cock with her mouth.
He rather hated to take advantage of the women this way, but it was clear after they each had been with him for an hour, that most of the advantage being taken was of him by them.
Steve was so impressed by the photos and the spent condoms that he snapped his mouth shut and said not another word about testing or initiating Chet in the art of getting laid. None of the other fraternity brothers said anything either.
As the ship steamed out of Cozumel that evening for a return to Tampa after an additional full day at sea, Chet went on a hunt for Doug.
At the Rose bar, he was them together—Doug and Travis. And he saw them rise and both head up the stairs, toward the deck where Travis and Conrad's room was—where he himself had been bound and repeatedly fucked the previous day. There was no doubt in his mind by how Travis guided Doug with a hand on his elbow that it was Doug's turn to entertain Conrad—and that he was going willingly.
With a sigh of regret, Chet returned to his own room, turning in quietly, because Pat was fucking a curvy black woman in his adjacent bed.
* * * *
Confused, frustrated, and overwhelmed, Chet spent the entire next day avoiding all of the contributors to the "Chet gets laid" campaign so that he could clear his head and think about the experience and what it might mean for his future.
He couldn't think of anyplace better to hide than in that empty cabin on Deck 2 where Julio had taken him. He found the Nigerian room steward, and, for a price, Chet got the use of the cabin for the day at sea, the last day of the cruise. The Nigerian took his price three times over the day, fucking Chet to a glorious exhaustion. But when the Nigerian wasn't there, Chet was able to close his eyes, as he was spread-eagled on the bed, naked, and barely able to move between fuckings, to think. He knew now what he wanted, but he tried to think of the other options because what he wanted surely wasn't possible.
But it was possible, he found.
Buses from FSU met the returning university students on that cruise, by prearrangement, the next morning at the Tampa cruise terminal pier. As Chet was ready to get on the bus, he heard his name called.
"Chet, over here. Bring your gear over here."
Recognizing the voice, Chet turned in shock and walked over to the handsome man leaning against a Dodge Charger, his beefy arms folded over his bulging pecs, barely contained by his FSU T-shirt.
"Bud, what are you doing here?" Chet asked. "Chaperoning the busses?"
"Not really. I came in my car. If you're interested I can give you a ride back to Tallahassee. You won't have to go in a bus."
"Sure, Thanks. But what gives?"
"If you go with me, you'll be staying in Tampa for a couple of days, though."
"Yes, with me. I have a hotel room and will fuck you into next Tuesday. And if you like that, I'll drive you back to Tallahassee and you can live with me."
"I don't understand," Chet said, tears coming to his eyes, and his body reacting in instant arousal. But it was just a dream. It must only be a dream, he thought. This is what he'd decided he wanted, what he thought it was impossible to have.
"Julio called me. He said that you were ready for me. Are you? I've been aching for you."
"Julio? Julio called you? You know Julio?"
"Yes, I know Julio. He initiated me on a cruise like this several years ago. Best thing that ever happened to me. When I knew you were going on this cruise, I asked Julio to arrange to work this one—and to work you. I know you want me, but that you just couldn't admit that to yourself. Julio says you're ready for anything now. So, do you want me?"
He opened the passenger door to the car.
"Need you ask?" Chet answered in wonder, as he slid into the passenger seat.
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