On a shrimp boat trawler well out to sea, you and a big muscle-bound bruiser of questionable intellect are telling me while we are taking a coffee break in the trawler I'd signed on for my sophomore summer in college that the senior crew all have privileges with the new guy. Just an initiation—like crossing the equator for the first time. But more fun.

What privileges and fun for who? I think, fear rising from my gut.

I'd been avoiding the bruiser because I didn't like the way he looked at me. But you've been nothing but friendly to me and have shown interest in who I was, why I was spending the summer working on a trawler, how old I was, did I screw all of the coeds—stuff like that. This, though. This, here and now, doesn't seem friendly—or maybe it seems too friendly. It has got me off balance.

You say you know I take cock because I'd been with the captain in his cabin the previous night and the bruiser heard how well I liked the captain's cocking. He says the captain was crowing this morning, saying he'd won the crew poll on who would be first.

Would it make any difference if I told you that the captain had gotten me drunk, and that I'd never done it before, and that, other than the soreness, I wouldn't be half aware that I had done it last night? Somehow I don't think you'd care—or that the bruiser would care either. And the captain said he wouldn't tell anyone if I came to his cabin again tonight. And he said it in such a way for me to understand that it wasn't really a request—out here on the open water, where it's just those of us on this trawler.

Flustered, I say I don't know what to say. What I'm thinking is how the bruiser heard. The captain's cabin isn't anywhere near the quarters for the rest of the crew. But what I say is that I'm not easy like that, and will think about it.

I'm trying to remain calm—cool. Trying to cool man my way out of the cabin. But if they'd seen me riding the captain's cock that second time last night they'd have a right to think I sniffed after it anywhere I could get it. I'd just been letting loose. And he'd gotten me drunk. Three months on the sea completely free from the constraints of land and college. And the captain was a stud and a half and he wore practically nothing, just a Speedo—just like all of us when we are out to sea. It was just a fling. Just a summer madness to mark the end of the school term. And he got me drunk. I'd thought about it, yes, and I'd fantacized about it when I was thinking of signing onto the trawler, because I'd heard what could happen on these isolated vessels out on the open water. But I'd never done it before last night.

"Think fast," you say and turn to the bruiser and say, "What do you think, Big Jim? Right here on the table?"

The bruiser giggles, stands, and pops the biggest cock I've ever seen out of his Speedo. I'd been eyeing his basket for days, wondering who would be up to taking it that big. That was part of why I'd been staying away from him. In shock, I stand. You reach out and grip my forearm, but I brush your hand away and lurch for the hatch out to the deck.

I hear you both laugh as you start in pursuit. I make it only about thirty feet, in the bow and below the bridge. The bruiser pounces on me and brings me down on a coil of roping. I land on top of him, and he snakes heavily muscled arms around mine, pinning me to his chest. You lean down and pull my Speedo off my legs. The bruiser's legs then lace in between mine, and he lifts and spreads his legs, so that mine spread and lift as well. I feel his thick, hard cock in the small of my back, snaking almost all the way up to my shoulder blades, it seems. I start to hyperventilate, but I know that won't help, so I start taking breaths in large gulps.

You are standing, looking down at me, and smiling. You push your Speedo to below your balls, showing that you're hard for me too. You go down on your knees between my legs, and I cry out as you slowly work your way into my ass.

I struggle, but it's useless, the bruiser is too strong for me. And the struggling only helps you move deeper inside me. I whimper as you stroke and stroke and stroke. I'm determined not to cry, though, to take it and then get as far away from here as possible. But what is far away on a trawler on the open seas?

Seeing that the captain has come out onto the deck of the bridge above us, I call out to him. He smiles and waves, takes a swig from his coffee cup, and turns and calls to the mate to join him. I see that he's pushed his Speedo down and is stroking his cock. No relief there. The black guy, Horace, who provides a lot of the muscle on moving cargo, has come up from the stern, hearing that something's going on. He's wearing a big grin and comes and stands beside us. He's got his cock in his hand.

"Relax kid," you say. "It's just the new guy initiation. When everyone's had a piece, we'll let you choose your two favorite for the rest of the voyage. Maybe they'll both enjoy you at once." You, the black guy, and the bruiser laugh.

I feel you jerk and come and then you are out of me and helping the bruiser free his cock from between his groin and my back. You are helping the bruiser find my hole with his staff. And when he has and I feel like I'm being split asunder, I start screaming anew. The mate is next to the captain on the bridge deck now. They are embracing and kissing and have taken possession of each other's cocks.

I can't stop complaining loudly from having the largest cock in the world pumping inside me. This isn't anything like the captain's. It isn't anything like I had from either the captain or you.

"Scream all you want, kid," the bruiser says in my ear in a hoarse voice. "There's empty ocean in every direction you can see from here, and we'll be out here for three months. And," he giggles, "a screamer makes me horny. And when I'm horny, I can go all day."

I believe him. I moan, starting to calm down, because the pain is turning into pleasure and I'm taking the biggest cock in the world. I'm taking the biggest dick in the world. I can't believe I'm managing the biggest dick in the universe. I'm wondering if it can get deeper from a different position. I shudder. I don't want to know that. But . . . but, of course I do want to know that. I'm taking the biggest dick in the world.

"Sweet ass," bruiser whispers. "And you like it. I can tell you like it. You wanna bunk with me tonight? I'll show you tricks you never knew. Maybe Horace can join us. You'll like that, kid. I can tell."

I'm thinking of the captain. I've got to go there tonight. But will he keep me all night? And, if not, will the bruiser be waiting for me? Can I take it? Maybe I'll need to be drunk tonight. Three months. Oh, fuck.

God he can fuck. God he can fuck.

I look up to see the captain and mate coming down the stairway, cocks in hand, smiling. I can barely hear what the captain is saying. "Great lay. Tight ass. Had him three times last night. I can tell you what he likes."



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