The Adventures of Andy Chao

Mr. Howard

Read Chapters One and Two to learn how Andy meets Mr. Santos and then DILF Paul. And please let me know if you’re enjoying this story…

I never thought I’d have this much sex while stuck on a cruise of the Mexican Riviera with my parents! My head's still buzzing with the post-sex high as I finally find my way back to my cabin, and I get there just in time as I start to feel the full effect of Mr. Santos' huge load and the extra large top-off from DILF Paul. There's a note on the door but I don't have time to read it on my way to the tiny bathroom. When things are fine I check my tiny neon pink bikini briefs. All is good. There's nothing but one single huge pearly drop of cum.

I pull the briefs back up and jump in the narrow shower. I like getting in the shower in my underwear, the wet fabric clinging to me feels so sexy. I soap them up and rub myself through them and finally pull them off to rinse them and I'm sooo horny. It happens when I have sex; I don't get satisfied, I want it even more.

I hop out of the shower and I’m toweling myself dry, and I’m totally hard. Just thinking about Mr. Santos' huge cock stretching my tiny pucker, and having my butt lips clamped around it as he opened me up gets me so excited I have to cram a couple fingers up my still very well-lubed ass. Ohhh, that feels good! Not as good as the real thing, not as good as DILF Paul's sturdy throbber with the sweet curve, but definitely good. I arch my back and go up on my toes and bend my knees trying to fuck myself on my own fingers. I wish I had a dildo, or that I had brought my little butt plug. I bet they don't sell them in the ship’s gift shop, LOL.

I try to post on my fingers and with the other hand I hold my taint. Sometimes my taint is the horniest part of me. I really love to rub it. When I'm stretching on the mat in the splits and I roll forward I can get a great rub right there. It's even better if I have a folded wash cloth or hand towel there and I can position my taint right on it for a little extra pressure. Oh, god, I want to be fucked again, right now!!

I'm riding my own fingers with my greedy pulsing little hole when I see the note that was on the door. Oh, shit! My parents are expecting me for brunch right now!

I know they'll wait for me, at least initially, so I clean up super fast and get dressed. I grab the first thing from my suitcase, which is a tiny green Speedo. I yank it up, and although I miss my fingers I enjoy the way all of it touches me tightly everywhere that matters. Shorts over the Speedo, a clean shirt and I'm on my way.

At least my parents are seated when I slide into place at their table.

My father raises his eyebrows. “Your mother's hungry.”

“Sorry dad, sorry mom.”

“I'm fine,” she says. “I had some coffee while your father was walking.”

“How many laps, dad?”

“Three times around the whole ship.” He looks like he always does, trying not to be proud.

“That's great dad. Now you can have a big breakfast!”

“How was your workout?”

“It was – awesome! But I'll probably go back later, work something else.”

“But you're going to swim,” interjects my mom.

I smile at her. “Yes, I'm going to swim. I’ll swim too. How's your book, mom?”

“Very exciting,” she says, calmly. It's there on the table. The latest Kevin Kwan, Sex and Vanity. And I see her bookmark. It's a coupon for shampoo. Even though my dad's an opthamologist.

“You want to go first?” he asks.

They worry that if we all go at once we'll lose our seats.

“You go ahead. I'll wait. I was late,” I say.

He nods, pleased.

I scan the dining room for someone, anyone, of interest. I squirm slightly in my seat; my butthole in my tight Speedo is still buzzing with a mixture of pleasure and need. After this morning I'm realizing how stupid I have been, ignoring older guys. There still doesn't seem to be anyone who looks like a good prospect. There's lots of older men, dads with families, some young DILFs, but no one else. No sign of Mr. Santos or Paul, either. Although I'm not sure I want to run into them with my parents, LOL.

I'm still dreaming about Mr. Santos huge fuckstick when my parents come back from the buffet. You have to admire their discipline. My dad does have a waffle, but he also has one poached egg, two small slices of bacon and only one sausage. My mother's plate looks beautiful. She has fresh fruit fanned out as if it were arranged by a Master Chef, a small bowl of oatmeal topped with blueberries, a teeny-tiny Danish, and about a half an egg’s worth of scrambled eggs.

“Mom is that all you're having? You know it's free, right?”

“This is all I need,” she says, smiling and looking longingly at her book. “You should have oatmeal,” she says to my father.

Dad ignores her and points to his plate. “Check out the waffle. Just made. Get one.”

There's more of a line now so I don't really see what's going on until I get to the waffle station. There's a young guy there and he's working four waffle irons at once. He's whisking egg whites, mixing the batter, pouring the batter, watching the waffles cook, and popping them out for people. They look beautiful, not like those god-awful unleavened cardboard things you make the mistake only once of trying at Courtyard. These smell great, too, all baking and crispy. The guy has his back to me when I get up to the station. He's wearing a full body apron and one of those funny chef hats. Then he turns around. Oh, wow! He's really handsome, and has brown eyes that glint, and he's Asian, and his nametag says ‘Joseph’ and he looks right at me, and says, “Waffle?”

I don't know what to say, which is rare for me, LOL. This guy is hot. He looks a little like Tadashi Hamada, but more knowing, almost sly. Even in his chef's whites I can tell he's got some muscle and he's handsome, very handsome. And did I mention like a hundred times already there's nobody my age on this ship? But he's probably straight. And all this is going through my head while I'm just standing there staring at him after he's put a waffle on my plate. And because I'm still standing there he finally says, “Can I help you?”

And I say, “I'd like all your waffles.”

Without missing a beat he says, “You couldn't handle all my waffles.”

Wow!

Then he puts another waffle on my plate and says, “When you finish that, come back.”

I grab some bacon and head back to my parents.

“That's all you wanted,” says my mother. “It's free.”

My dad says, “I thought you'd like the waffles.”

Wait, WTF is going on? Does he mean- ??? No way!! No, no, he just likes waffles…

“I got an extra one so Mom can taste it,” I say.

“I can’t eat that.”

I break it in half and give half to my dad and half to mom.

I rip through my waffle and head back to the buffet line. Soon I’m standing in front of Joseph. He does that thing my mom does when she tries to not let me know what she’s thinking, LOL. We're staring at each other. He looks at me, assessing something. I don't know what. His forearm has more muscle than mine. I can see the separate muscles, distinct, long, corded. His skin is like mine, golden cream, smooth. He has a tiny tattoo near his wrist. It's a little gold and black bee. Delicate. I want to put my finger on it.

“When do you get a break?”

“Hah!”

“You must get a break sometime.”

“You're kidding, right! You think there's a time when,” he gestures at the humming dining room, “these people ever STOP wanting something?”

I shrug in agreement. I'm trying to see his body through the apron. I can tell that his chest is pretty good.

“When do you work out?”

“Evenings.” He jerks his head. “Gymnastics?”

I shake my head. “Diver. I’m Andy.”

“Why do you want to know when my break is?”

I feel myself redden. Again the assessing glance.

“Want to meet someone?”

“Uh,” (what's he talking about?) “who?”

“Someone interesting. Someone you’d like.”

He doesn't even wait for me to say yes. He serves the couple behind me, loads more batter into the waffle iron, whips out his cell phone, and tells me, “Watch the steam. If it stops...” More people want waffles; he lays them out so they can help themselves, while he's texting below the station. My parents must be wondering what's taking so long.

He looks up, plates more waffles.

“What's your number,” he mutters.

“My parents say the onboard WiFi is too expensive.”

“Number!” he growls.

I tell him.

Suddenly I notice that the steam has stopped. “Hey, is it done?”

He flips open the iron and whips out the golden waffles, greases it, pours in batter, and is back to texting, all in about five seconds.

Someone's hand discreetly cups and pats my butt. “Hey, buddy!” I turn. It's DILF Paul, now standing all innocent, holding a plate. I feel the magnetic pull of his pecs, even in a slightly baggy Polo shirt, LOL.

“Are the waffles good?”

“Yeah, they're great!”

“I really worked up an appetite this morning,” he says blandly, and then winks. He fucking winks. I half laugh. Then with a straight face I say, “Have two. You can always work it off later.”

I want to touch him but I don't quite dare. He nods at me, takes two waffles, and says, “I think we're spending most of the day by the pool.” Then he's gone.

Joseph looks up at me. “Friend of yours?” The word "friend" is more loaded than a Mayflower moving truck.

I don't say anything, I just look at his eyes.

Then he laughs. It's not mean, but it's not kind, either. He deals with the waffle batter, and then leans toward me. “O Fortuna,” he says. “Password for the crew WiFi. Capital O, underscore, capital F. It’s slow but it works. Watch for a text.”

“When you have a break?”

“Maybe. But no, from Mr. Howard.”

“Who's –”

“He'd like to meet you.”

“Who's –”

“I think you'll hit it off.”

Suddenly there's a crush of people. I go back to my parents who look at the two waffles on my plate.

“Good waffles,” says my mom.

“Make a friend?” says my dad.

“Maybe,” I answer, my hand itching to reach into my pocket for my phone. I can't log on in front of them because I’m not supposed to have wireless. Their plates are empty, but they wait for me to eat. The waffles are really good, and I know I can work it off later in the pool if not some other way, LOL.

After breakfast I still don’t get free of them; I have to walk around the ship with both of them first, before my mom retires to a deck chair with her book and my dad sets off to do another three laps. Finally I can log on.

As soon as I do I see I have three texts plus a shitload of regular email, and tons of Instagram notifications. The texts are all from an unknown number. I read the texts. The first one says, “hi.” The next says, “James here.” The next says, “Chat?”

I don't know what to do, so I type, “hi. Are you Joseph's friend?”

The answer comes back right away, “Yep. Nice to meet you, Andy.”

“Do you work on ship?”

“No, passenger. You like to swim?”

“Yes.”

“Come swim with me.”

“I just ate.”

“Talk for a while, then.”

I look at my phone. Who is this guy? “Pic?”

I wait. Nothing. I'm near the railing, the ocean looks spectacular. The air smells incredibly clean. There's a little tang of salt, but not much more. Some gulls lazily wheel off the side of the ship. I scan my email - nothing I want to read. Then my phone buzzes.

Wow. He's older, but he's handsome. Strong jaw, laugh lines. Black t-shirt. Big chest, decent arms. Tan.

“Nice!” I text back.

“Glad you like.”

“Are you at the pool?”

“Upstairs.”

“There's another pool?”

“1st class. Come through the secret door.”

“??”

“By ballroom.”

Through trial and error and a lot more texting he directs me to the way upstairs.

There's a pass code I have to punch in to unlock the “secret” stairwell door.

Upstairs there are less people and almost no little kids. I expect to be thrown out by the staff at any moment. There's a pool, not quite as big as the main pool downstairs, but way less crowded. There are vacant chaises, and they each have their own umbrella and little drink table. There's a really tan super fit woman in a tiny white bikini, with a diamond bracelet, staring right at me, and a steward is bringing her an orange drink in a tall glass. With fruit stuck on the side and some mint and an orchid!

He looks at me. Oh no, now I'll get kicked out!

“Can I get you anything? Something from the bar.”

“No, I'm good, thanks,” I stammer.

He goes.

I look around. I can’t see any likely guys. The woman in the white bikini says, “Get yourself some shades, kid. That way they never know what you're thinking.”

“Uh, thanks. Thank you.”

She nods her uh huh. She adjusts the orchid and takes a sip of her drink, covers her eyes and lies back down.

I walk around the pool, looking for James/Mr. Howard, but I don't see him. The pool is beautiful though. Clear, sparkling. I want to get in it and swim right away.

When I get to the far side I stop and sit on a chaise, and text, “I'm here.”

A few seconds later there’s a shadow and a deep voice says, “Hello, there.”

Mr. Howard is actually better looking than his picture. The picture didn't capture the size of his chest when he's next to me, LOL, nor the thickness of it. He has a big back as well. He's wearing a faded red t-shirt that still manages to look new and expensive as it clings to his pecs. I can see the big nipples and my cock does a little lurch in my Speedo. God, I love men! He extends a hand, “Pleased to meet you, Andy.”

His hand makes mine feel small, and his handshake is nice and firm without trying to crush my hand.

“If you're not ready to swim, would you like to come in for a minute?”

He gestures behind him and that's when I realize that there are raised areas with tiny balustrades around them enclosing chaises and low tables. And behind them are doors. He has a room that opens out on the pool! I follow him inside and while his room is still constrained by the fact that it's on a ship, it's definitely more spacious then anything I've been in so far. There's a small loveseat and an easy chair facing a TV, a bar off to one side, and then a king sized bed. There's a big window but the shades are drawn, so as soon as he shuts the door it feels like the pool is far away.

“Aren't you something,” he says, looking at me with a smile on his face. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I'm good, thanks. I just had breakfast.”

“That's right,” he says, a smile ghosting across his face.

He's standing about four feet from me but I can feel this charge between us, like the air in the room is alive.

“Where have you been hiding?”

I shrug. “Not in First Class.”

He laughs. Then he steps toward me. He says, “May I,” but doesn't wait for an answer and then he pulls my shirt up over my head. I help him by raising my arms and then he stands back and looks at me.

“Much better,” he says. “Turn around.”

I turn, actually I rotate.

“God! You’re beautiful!” Then he murmurs, “The shorts…”

I'm looking at him and I want to touch him. I want to play with his big pecs, I want to rub my hands all over them and grab them and get my mouth on those nipples. But instead I do as he asks. I unbutton my shorts and then slowly I wriggle out of them one hip at a time. I'm wearing my bright green Speedo underneath and while it's not as sexy as my pink bikini briefs it still shows off everything, LOL.

“Damn!” says Mr. Howard.

I'm looking at his arms, the forearms are big, and they are coated with hair. I take one step toward him and I reach and stroke down his forearm and take his hand and pull it toward my mouth and I slip his big thumb into my mouth and suck on it. I play with his thumb with my tongue and my lips not quite biting it, but clamping on it and sucking on it, and then I look up at him. He's got his eyes half-closed. He breathes out a kind of laugh, not a funny laugh but something else. Then he touches me. He runs his finger down the side of my neck along the top of my shoulder, and down my arm, tracing the shape. I step a little bit towards him, and I can't help it, I put my face up.

“What?” he says, “you kiss?”

In answer I go up on my toes and move toward his mouth. His head finally closes the distance between us and his lips meet mine. He has them closed at first but then as I keep my mouth there he opens his mouth and lets my tongue in. Then I find his and suddenly there's no stopping him. His tongue takes over and explores every part of my mouth. For a moment I have trouble breathing. Somewhere in here his arms go around me and he pulls me closer to him. When he stops he wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist and says, “Wow, that was, wow!”

Standing in front of him I put both my hands on his firm stomach and then run them upwards, until I'm feeling his pecs which are big, heavy, full. I run my hands below and then over the outward curve, and then over the big planes of muscle and then I find his nipples and just let my fingers play with them. “Nice…” I murmur, and open my eyes big, “nice!”

“Wait,” he says pushing me back.

“No,” I say.

I’ve still got my hands reaching for his pecs.

“We’ll do everything, I promise,” he says, gently pushing me back. “I just want to look at you for a minute, okay?”

I'm standing there in nothing but my Speedo, and I'm pretty hard, which is almost painful in a tight Speedo. My Speedos are always tight, LOL. He steps back, watching me.

“You could be an underwear model,” he says.

I regard this as bullshit because my abs are pretty good but they're not quite egg carton 8-pack perfect. He kind of shakes his head and laughs, “Beautiful.”

I'm not really sure what's going on. I want to be touched, not looked at.

“I want to see you,” I say.

“Okay,” he says. “I'll do something if you do something.”

“Okay,” I nod.

He steps into the bedroom area and rummages through a drawer, and then tosses me some underwear. They’re Andrew Christian.

“Try those on,” he says.

There's no way this guy's underwear are going to fit me, but I check the label and it says, “S”. I half turn away because of my hard-on, and it isn't until I'm out of my Speedo that I realize the underwear he's given me are those kind that have no seat. I pull them up and struggle to arrange my cock in front. They do fit really well. I can feel they lift my ass.

“Your ass looks fantastic,” he says, adding, “Not that it doesn't without the underwear.”

I turn around for him and then I say, “Your turn.”

He raises his eyebrows just the tiniest bit.

“Take off your shirt.”

I can sense the reluctance in his face but it doesn't mean anything to me. Why wouldn't he want to get naked with me? He looks serious, and then he pulls his shirt up over his head. His muscles are great and his pecs are gorgeous, but there's a big scar that kind of goes over all one side of his stomach and then up his side under his arm. It looks like black and red-purple tree bark. It's not ugly, but it's the opposite of perfection.

I do the best thing I know which is to say, “Fuck! You’re hot!”

I step toward him and he has to take me in his arms, and I press my face against his chest and I slide my arms around him, and we just hug for a minute. It’s almost not sexual, even though it totally is – I mean, I have a hard-on and I’m wearing underwear with no butt and he’s a huge stud.

The hug goes on for a while. I stand there in his arms, clinging, really, to him. I love how big and strong he feels. There's no hair where he has the scar, but there's fur on the rest of his belly. I can feel him breathe, and his deep regular heartbeat. His arms pull me close to him and he seems content to hold me. It's nice.

Then his hands start to slowly move, gently rubbing all over my back, still holding me close but running up my spine, across my shoulders, all over my lats and traps, and then down to my butt. I put my face up and we're soon lost in a slow kiss that seems to go on and on. He has a tiny bit of stubble above his lip that brushes against me every now and then. And I can feel his cock bulge pressing against me through his shorts.

I get his shorts undone while we're still kissing and they fall and he kicks them off. He's wearing some short square-cut boxer briefs and his hard-on is poking them out. I rub his cock through the underwear, making him say, “Oh, yeah!” His hands are exploring my butt, gripping and pulling up first one cheek, then the other. Then one finger starts gently exploring the middle, just rubbing the outside of my crack in a friendly curious way. Meanwhile I get inside his boxer briefs and push the front down so his cock pops out.

I want to suck him, but he's still holding me. When he feels me pull back he lets go, and we stand there, facing each other. On one level it's kind of ridiculous, me in these slutty underwear and him with his boxers pulled down just under his balls, but on another it's kind of marvelous - he's so handsome and buff.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Sure. You're hot. Really fucking hot.”

“You don't have to say that.”

I nod. “It's true.”

He looks at me and I can't tell what he's thinking, but I feel like I'm missing something.

“You want to get horizontal?” he asks.

“Sounds great.”

He moves to toward the bed, picks up his phone and dials. Then he says, I swear to God, “Something’s come up. I'm going to need to push all this morning's calls back an hour.”

I almost laugh, but then I'm getting his full attention. He pulls off his briefs, lies back on the bed and says, “Climb on.” I do.

He's kind of laying on his side propped up on one elbow, and his scar is mostly hidden, but as I get on the bed I climb on him so I'm on top of him kissing him. He's got his arms around me again, feeling all of me. I love that. I love being held like this.

I feel his cock pressing against me and I want to get a better look at it. My boy hole suddenly aches with need. The need to be filled. His hands are on my ass, starting to explore my crack. I feel one finger find my pucker and start to push in. His finger slides in pretty easily, LOL. He says something that I don't quite catch about boy scout.

“Pardon?”

“I said, ‘you're quite the Boy Scout.’ All prepared.”

I laugh, a little embarrassed, remembering everything that's been up me today. Then by mutual desire and some pressure from his hands he moves me around so I'm straddling his chest with my cock between his pecs, and my mouth goes on his cock. His cock isn't gigantic but it's firm and sturdy with a nice mushroom head. I get it in my mouth and bob up and down happily. I'm not the world's greatest cocksucker, LOL, but I figure enthusiasm has to count for something, right? Meanwhile he's playing with my hole through the back of the underwear. He's got one finger in and he's starting the corkscrew it, adding a second. It feels fantastic! “Sweet boycunt,” he says, “fucking hot boycunt…”

“Mmmmmm mmm,” I moan, my mouth full, trying to push my butt up more onto his fingers while I'm humping my cock between his pecs.

“Oh yeah!” he says, “You like that, you hot little fucker!”

He's definitely got both fingers in me now, twisting them around and pushing in and out. Oh God, I need his cock so bad!

“Tight wet boycunt,” he says again. Suddenly I can't wait any longer. I pull off his cock and swing myself around straddling him the other way, I hold his cock in one hand and I just sit back on it. I'm still wearing the underwear which might get in the way in a minute but right now I don't care. I just slide down onto his cock. First the nice pop of the head through my elastic ring and then all the way down the shaft. I'm greedy, once I'm sat all the way down on it I wiggle on it to make sure it's in absolutely as far as it can go, and then I start to bounce on it.

“Damn!” he says, “You are a horny pup!”

His cock isn’t the biggest I’ve had today, but right now I’m hornier than I’ve been all day. I‘m getting used to having sex with older guys and I feel safe, and his cock is hitting all the right spots. I can lean forward or back a little bit as I bounce on it and each bounce makes me want to do it more. I lean forward and put my hands on his chest and I’ve got the thumb and forefinger of each hand on his nipples, and my butt feels sooo good! He puts his hands up on the outside of my arms and he starts to thrust upward with his hips, and that gets me a little more penetration, plus it’s hitting my taint more, and I’m just, “Oh my fucking God!” as I bounce on his rigid cock.

“Oh, that’s good,” he says, “Oh, you’re great!”

He lets me ride him until I get so turned on I try to pull down the front of the underwear to get my cock out. He laughs. “Let’s change it up…”

Before I know it I’m off his cock and he’s rolled us over and he’s pulling off the underwear. Then he’s got my ankles and he’s kneeling between my legs, holding my butt up and then he’s back in. I sigh and he grins and grunts, as he starts to do the work. I stretch my arms up around him and I reach up to kiss him. Our mouths meet and kiss, but he’s concentrating more on becoming a jackhammer, and my butt doesn’t mind one bit. He raises his eyebrows, I think he’s asking if I’m doing okay, and I nod like crazy as he pumps into me and pounds my boy spot.

“You’re such a hot little fucker,” he pants as he gets closer. “So! Fucking! Good!”

A minute later he’s like, “Ohhh, OHHH, OOOHHHH!!!” while my little rocket makes its third moon shot of the day.

He doesn’t collapse on me, though. He holds his body in an arc above me, and I think he’s going to kiss me again, but he doesn’t. He looks like he is, but no. Then he says, “Can you stay for a few minutes?”

It’s all good for the next fifteen minutes. He kind of holds me, with one arm around me, and he strokes my chest, tracing a path from my sternum down to my belly button, and then circles around my nipples, which are mostly like dark nickels, LOL.

Then when we’re cleaned up and I’m buttoning my shorts he tries to give me two hundred dollars.

“What?”

“That’s what Joseph said it would be.”

“What?!!!”

“You want more,” he says, a little coldly.

“No!” I don’t know what to say. “That FUCKER!” I look around, angrily. I feel so stupid. “Fuck him! That asshole!”

Finally he catches on. “You’re not working for Joseph?”

“No! No, I’m – NO!”

He looks at me fairly calmly under the circumstances. “Then why did he send you?”

I look at him and he looks at me and our eyes aren’t able to see into each other at all, nor to say anything. For the first time today I feel tired. And silly. And like I should go home.

I look back up at him. He’s still standing there, not saying anything. Waiting. I’m confused. I swallow. For a second I feel like I’m gonna cry but I don’t want to do that! I’m too pissed off to do that! I fix the button on my shorts. And I look at him, incredibly studly and masculine and attractive and scarred.

I stand there without saying anything for far too long.

Then I say, “I liked you. I did it because I liked you. I wanted to do it. I guess I got tricked. I like sex. I like men. And I really did think you were hot.”

If you enjoyed this, like or let me know. Responses and feedback are appreciated and lead to more stories. Happy Reading! Petr