A Pirate and a Gentleman

[daddybear54]

Chapter 1:   The Making of a Sailor

 

It was dark down here inside the ship’s hull. No light could penetrate into the cargo hold in the night time. Dark, but not silent – the endless creaking of the ship’s wooden fabric and the masts, the rushing roar of the ocean’s waters on the outside of the hull, the sloshing of water in the bilges – the cargo hold was always a noisy place.

By rights, Andrew should have been asleep in his cot. But he had an appointment down here which he was anxious to keep. Earlier in the day, he had cornered one of the apprentices, a handsome youth named Peter, and told him, “Meet me in the aft cargo hold at midnight.” Since he was the second mate, and Peter a rank beginner as one of two apprentices in the crew, Andrew had no fear that his orders would be disobeyed.

The ship’s bell rang, pairs of strokes with a pause after each pair. Four pairs. Eight bells. “Where in hell is Peter?” Andrew wasn’t aware that he had actually muttered the words aloud.

“Here, sir,” another voice responded out of the darkness.

Andrew peered in that direction and caught a glimpse of a pale form coming towards him. As Peter drew nearer, Andrew was pleased to see that he had already taken off his shirt.

“Good. You know why we’re here.”

Peter nodded, and without further ado slipped out of his trousers and underclothes, exposing his lower body – the buttocks swelling in a tempting curve, the cock already lifted clear of his balls.

Andrew did the same, gesturing wordlessly to his erect manhood. Peter dropped to his knees with all the grace of his eighteen years and went right to work on Andrew’s tool. With almost no delay, he managed to get the whole thing deep into his throat. Andrew smiled between his moans of pleasure. An experienced young man, not a rank beginner who had to be shown what to do at every step of the process. Andrew was prepared to train newcomers, whether to sail the ship or to suck and get fucked, but he much preferred to work with more experienced young men.

Peter was experienced – no doubt about that. His talented mouth and throat worked wonders on Andrew, and before long he simply had to pull his cock out. He didn’t want this to end until he had sampled the young apprentice’s enticing ass. He pulled Peter to his feet and spun him around.

Peter knew exactly what was intended. This man wanted to get right into his hole with no waste of time and get his rocks off as fast as possible. Well, that was fun enough in a way – but he was hoping he could entice the hunky second mate into staying a bit longer. Perhaps he could even flip the action if he played his cards right. He’d certainly noticed Andrew’s hand straying to play with his own ass as Peter sucked him.

Peter planted his hands against the frames of the hull, leaning forward and thrusting his sweet round ass cheeks out and up. Andrew’s hand landed there again, several times, with considerable force, before it slid into the crack and his fingers began playing with Peter’s hole. Andrew’s cock jutted up even harder and higher as he felt that squirming hole clenching at his fingers. It was time.

He added some more spit to his hand, wiped it over the head and down the shaft, and then pushed the blunt tip of his cock up against Peter’s hole. Peter pushed back, opened up, and in no time Andrew had entered him stretching him open, and thrusting further and further inside. It took only moments until the second mate’s tool was completely embedded inside the apprentice’s welcoming ass.

At once, Peter’s ass began squeezing and chewing on Andrew’s rampant cock, so much so that Andrew wasted no time before beginning to hump the apprentice. His pumping action picked up speed rapidly, and the air was filled with resonant smacks as his hips bounced repeatedly off Peter’s lush round ass cushions. Peter reached down with one hand to grasp his own cock, but Andrew smacked the hand away.

“No! Don’t touch it. Save yourself!”

Peter grinned at what he took to be the meaning hidden within those words. He flexed his muscles, working his tight hole around the second mate’s dick, squeezing it harder and harder. He wanted this man’s cum load inside his body.

Suddenly, Andrew pulled away, and snarled at Peter, “Get on your back on the deck.” Peter obediently laid down quickly on the boards, rolling onto his back and lifting his legs into the air as Andrew dropped down beside him. Andrew got himself into position, planted his red, throbbing tool against the hole, and pushed his way inside again. Peter let out another loud moan, a moan not of pain but of satisfaction. Anyone could tell that this slim, young apprentice loved having a rock-hard man’s cock inside his body.

Andrew resumed fucking, pushing down into Peter’s ass over and over. Peter stretched his arms out, wrapping them around Andrew and pulling him even closer. This was the kind of fucking Peter really liked – close in, face to face, arms holding his partner as close as possible. Andrew kept heaving his hips up and down, driving towards the moment when he could seed this boy’s cute young ass. Then Peter stretched his arms downwards, grasping Andrew’s ass firmly. The second mate had just time to think, Oh my stars, this boy’s got really long arms – and then Peter sank his long forefinger deep inside Andrew’s hole.

He knew he was taking a risk. Doing something like this to a superior could get him thrown off the ship, figuratively – or even literally, and with all the sharks in the ocean around them, that would certainly prove fatal. But he had guessed and taken a chance. And his guess proved right.

“Oh, my god, that feels so… keep doing it, boy!”

Peter kept fingering Andrew, working around until he suddenly hit the magic spot. He’d found his own, quite by accident, when he was fooling around with his own ass one day. Then an older sailor had taught him that every man has one, and how to find it. And now, his long arm and slim finger had found Andrew’s spot for him. Peter rubbed the little lump two, three, four times, and then Andrew suddenly slammed in hard, seized right up, and held himself against Peter’s body as his cock erupted, spraying an enormous load of cream inside the boy’s taut, round ass.

Peter cried aloud in delight as he felt the second mate’s warm sperm gushing into him. But he didn’t pull out his finger. He was still hoping.

In a couple of minutes, Andrew’s breathing slowly diminished to normal as he regained stability after that enormous climax – and it was right about that time that he realized that Peter still had a finger buried in his butt, the sensation of that finger rubbing at his magic spot was still incredible, and (most of all) that he wanted to feel a dick inside his own body.

“Did you spend yet, boy?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Good. Get that rod of yours inside me and drive it in there until you’ve dropped all your seed into my hole.”

“Yes, sir.”

Peter squirmed out from under Andrew and pushed the second mate down to the deck. Andrew laid down on his face, spreading his legs apart and waiting for the invasion. He did not have long to wait. Peter was thrilled at the thought of plowing and seeding Andrew, and he couldn’t wait to start. In no time, he had Andrew’s ass lubricated with his spit, the hole quivering from the repeated invasions of his tongue, and had his cock in place, pushing against Andrew’s tight little hole.

“Relax, dammit!” Normally, Peter would never have dreamed of using such language to the second mate. But he had the man under him, he was going to fuck the second mate’s furry butt, and he was expected to dominate, to subdue, to control, and to mark his man. Having invited him to switch roles, Andrew couldn’t very well complain at being ordered around. Not that he wanted to complain. Andrew had started out acting the role of the man in charge because that was what his position in the ship demanded, but the truth was that he actually enjoyed being dominated and controlled. And now he was going to get exactly what he wanted.

And Peter gave it to him. The apprentice with the smooth body and the angelic face gave a mighty shove and buried his eight inches to the hilt inside Andrew’s butthole. Andrew yelled aloud, and Peter silenced him with a flat-handed slap. “You wanted it, you’re getting it, so shut your gob!”

Andrew moaned loudly as Peter began pumping into him, but another vicious slap put a stop to that. Peter had learned much from all his previous experiences with being fucked by men, and he used it all, stirring his dick around inside Andrew’s guts, dragging it out, and then slamming back in on the exact angle that would hit the magic spot inside Andrew on each plunge.

It was working. Andrew was getting more and more wound up as Peter drove into him, quickly approaching the point of no return again. Peter knew it too. It was plain that this strong, aggressive treatment was turning Andrew’s crank in a big way, and Peter knew that it was time to push the lordly second mate all the way to the wall. He abruptly speeded up, driving in and out of Andrew’s hole at top speed like a mad thing. Andrew cried aloud again as his cock spasmed, shooting another load of his sperm onto the deck under him. The sudden contractions of his tight hole did it for Peter, and in seconds he was slamming up against the second mate’s muscled cheeks, bursting the dam and erupting multiple shots of his white-hot sperm into the older man’s fuck tunnel.

This time both of them took longer to recover. It said much for the enjoyment he’d taken from the experience that second mate Andrew actually turned over, embracing and kissing and caressing the boyish blond apprentice at some length.

And then, abruptly, their cuddling reverie was broken by a loud moan not far off, a moan which was quickly followed by the sound of several wet splats against the deck.

Peter sat up suddenly. “What was that?”

Andrew muttered, “Must have been the captain’s boy. He’s always prowling around at night. Get your clothes on and get out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Both of them chuckled at the sudden pointed tone in Peter’s voice.

Less than a minute later, the hold was quiet again – well, as quiet as it could ever get – apart from the solitary figure groping around in the darkness, until he found what he was looking for. His hand wiped up several globs of man cream off the deck, and he licked and sucked them clean, moaning in pleasure again at the taste. There followed some quick slapping sounds, and then another series of splats as he added a few extra shots onto the deck to join the ones the second mate and the blond apprentice had spewed there not long before.

In the early morning sunlight, George Treston appeared on the quarterdeck of the ship, named Ernestine IV, looking out at the skies and estimating the weather with a seaman’s trained eye. He owed his position as an apprentice to his father. George’s father wasn’t merely the captain of the Ernestine IV. He owned this ship and three others, as well as dock facilities in Jamaica, Antigua, Barbados, and the Bahamas. The Treston company was a known and respected commercial presence throughout the British Caribbean Islands.

George stood with his feet braced apart, swaying easily and naturally with the send of the vessel as it climbed and swooped over the waves on passage from Jamaica to Antigua. This in spite of the fact that he was barely fourteen years old and only on his second voyage. That is, it was his second voyage as a formal member of the crew with assigned duties. You could only call it the second time if you discounted the many earlier trips in which he had sailed as a boy, following his father everywhere above and below decks and learning the essentials of the trade – and of some other incidentals – by watching, listening, and remembering everything.

As it happened, he was remembering the lively scene he had witnessed in the cargo hold the night before. The memory was making him grow hard yet again. George had been intrigued, not so much by the role of Andrew, the second mate, as by his fellow apprentice, the smooth-skinned, blue-eyed blond boy named Peter. He’d looked like a son of the gods when his clothes had come off, and George wanted to enjoy coupling with that beautiful body the same way that Andrew had done. Of course, getting a chance to be fucked by either Andrew or Peter wouldn’t be a bad thing either. George had seen it all but had yet to experience any of it – beyond the thrill of playing with himself.

His attention shifted again, as a change in the wind called for the sails to be trimmed anew. George scurried to join the others at the halliards. Once the bustle of trimming settled down, he resumed his thoughts.

The early growth of George’s seafaring knowledge and skills had owed much to his father’s insistent drumming of the essentials into his head at every turn as he grew up. It owed even more to the fact that trade between the multiple islands of the Caribbean, and between the islands and North America or England, had been the family business for several generations. The letter “IV” in the name of the company flagship, Ernestine IV, was proof of that, she being the fourth flagship of the Treston firm to bear that honoured name. Ernestine had in fact been the ship’s cat in his great-grandfather’s day, a more than dedicated mouser and ratter. The sailors in Ernestine’s time claimed that she was the most valuable member of the ship’s company.

None of this was ever explained to outsiders.  They were left to suppose that “Ernestine” had been the lady love of the company’s founder back in Bristol. Let them think that. It wasn’t something that George’s father, Edward Treston, had ever talked about, either, maintaining a resolute silence in the face of persistent questioning from George’s mother, an island woman whom his father called Esmeralda.

George’s earliest voyage of all was the absolute height of foreshadowing, not to mention unorthodox. The boy set sail into the world of ships and the sea via the birth canal. His mother produced him after an extended labour aboard a small coastal vessel making a rough passage from Kingston around Jamaica to Montego Bay. She had informed her “husband” Edward that she wished to go to her mother’s people on the north shore of the island to birth her child, and to be cared for afterwards. Esmeralda was no fool. She knew perfectly well that Port Royal was full to the brim with highly competent gamblers, bootleggers, and whoremasters, but suffered from a distinct shortage of such feminine luxuries as trustworthy midwives. Edward had consented to her plan, albeit reluctantly, and in accordance with local tradition had given the captain of the coastal trading packet a substantial bribe, with the promise of as much more to come, once his wife was delivered safely and unharmed to her mother. After that farewell, he had himself set out on one of his regular trading voyages to San Juan.

The treacherous waves accompanying George’s birth were triggered by the catastrophic 1692 earthquake which swept most of the boozy, riotous pirate city of Port Royal into the ocean, taking the headquarters of the family business with it. Edward’s timing for his voyage to Puerto Rico had been perfect, in the sense that he and his ship were unharmed although somewhat tossed about by the ensuing seismic waves. After returning to a wharf and warehouse which were missing in action from an acreage of land which was no longer to be seen, George’s father shrugged, wrote off his losses, and set to work to start over again. In the event, this actually meant setting up shop in a newer and bigger warehouse and wharf farther up the bay on the inland side of what remained of Port Royal Point, facing the site on the mainland which would henceforth be known as Kingston.

In due course, Edward built up a fleet of four vessels. Once George had reached the age of eight, his father began taking him along on some of his trading trips around the Caribbean Sea and up the eastern coast of the Thirteen Colonies. Not so the longer voyages to and from England, which lasted for months at a stretch. Captain Edward needed to supervise his company’s affairs on the spot, and disappearing into the far reaches of the North Atlantic Ocean for months at a time was a task best left to his subordinates.

Was George’s father actually married to his mother? That was something that George was never able to find out for certain. There had certainly been a ceremony in Port Royal, of a sort, presided over by a gentleman dressed in the robes of a Church of England divine. Edward George Treston and Esmeralda had sworn the oaths of a conventional marriage to each other and had honoured those hallowed oaths – at least in word, if not always in deed. But there was a catch. There was no formal certificate of marriage. Port Royal being the kind of city it was, the odds were pretty good that the presiding “clergyman” was actually a former priest of the Church of England who had been defrocked due to sinful excesses of gambling, drunkenness, whoring, you name it. The wedding, then, such as it was, likely lay well outside the bounds of the orthodox marriage vows. That, as matters developed, was certainly an omen.

Like most men from Europe who found themselves in the islands, Edward Treston made no real pretence of being faithful to his wife. Esmeralda might have been the light of his eye, but there were others who drew his attention below the waist. Esmeralda knew this perfectly well, going to great efforts to try to flush any other women away and out of his life. Perhaps it was fortunate for both of them that she remained unaware that there were also men she should have driven off.

Edward’s onboard adventures had begun when little Georgie, less than a year old, was still being cuddled and nursed at all hours of the day and night by his mother. Need it be explained that Edward was a seething mixture of frustration and physical discomfort by the time his ship sailed after a two-week break ashore? His mating organs nearly burst into flames on the spot when Hugh, the boatswain, introduced Sean to him, explaining that the previous apprentice had disappeared before he could be paid off. Sean had providentially been right there on the dock when he heard Hugh complaining that they needed that extra pair of hands and the young guy who had taken off would have to be replaced. Sean immediately stepped forward and offered himself, and after a few quick questions was brought aboard to sign the apprenticeship agreement.

Watching as Hugh issued orders and the crew made sail and hoisted in the anchor, Edward was pleased to see that Sean listened and followed orders uncommonly well for a novice, not to mention the enticing sight of his buttocks rounding out the seat of his breeches. His upper body was soon on even better display as the tropical heat forced him to strip off his shirt. Edward could have sworn that Sean had caught his eye for a second and had then begun to twitch and clench his ass muscles in alluring enticement.

When Sean came off watch duty at 8:00 that evening, Edward was waiting for him.

“Sean!”

“Yes, sir?”

“When do you go on watch again?”

“Not until 4:00 in the morning, sir.”

“Good. I have a job for you to tackle. Come with me.”

Edward led the way down to the stern of the ship, where he opened the door of the captain’s cabin. As soon as Sean saw the bed, his face broke into a hot grin. When Edward closed the door, Sean immediately stepped up, reached out, and palmed his crotch through his breeches.

“Is this the job you had in mind, sir?”

Edward’s quiet moan confirmed that Sean was on the right track. So did the roaring erection which bulged up inside his pants in no time flat. Edward quickly realized that Sean should already be rated as “Able Seaman” in at least this area of work. His new apprentice was far from inexperienced, and very soon a wet stain was growing on the front of the captain’s breeches. By this time, Edward had torn off his shirt, and he now stepped away to remove his breeches as quickly as possible, until he was standing in the cabin naked. Sean positively licked his lips in anticipation as he went down to his knees and began to lick on Edward’s rigid cock.

The captain groaned aloud as the young but skilled apprentice went right to town on him. His hands buried themselves in the boy’s flaming red hair and pushed him repeatedly down onto his senior officer’s manmeat. Sean knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew he was going to get results as a steady stream of sweet juice leaked out of that swollen dick and onto his taste buds. But even with that hint, he was startled at how soon the climax came. In barely two minutes, the captain began panting, “Oh… oh… oh… ohhhh…!” and then his muscles convulsed, and a thick blast of white cream exploded into Sean’s sucking mouth. Sean sucked and swallowed as fast as he could, but he was no match for the flood which backed up in his mouth and flowed down his chin. Edward grasped at the timber framing of the ship for support as his knees began to give out under him.

Edward gasped for air as Sean swallowed the last of his load and then stood up in front of him. His bright green eyes locked with the captain’s dark brown eyes as Edward gradually recovered his normal poise.

“Will that be all, sir?” The question sounded perfectly respectful, but as Sean asked it, his hand went again to the captain’s cock, giving it another squeeze. As he did so, he noted with pleasure that the tool in his hand showed no signs of softening. Nor was that surprising.

“Not in the least.” Edward reached out, grasped Sean’s hand, and drew him close. He kissed the boy’s lips lightly at first, then much harder, as his hands reached around to grasp the young ass and draw him closer. Sean was loving being embraced so tightly by this impressive man, but he wanted to feel it closer still. He took one of Edward’s hands and guided them to start pulling his shirt up over his head and off.

Edward drank in the sight of a taut young body, lightly dusted with freckles as he might have expected with a redhead, with the pert nipples poking out at him. He then lowered his hands, and began tugging the boy’s breeches down and off, exposing the lower half of his body to view. No argument was possible. Sean’s ass was a thing of beauty, and Edward couldn’t wait to enjoy it. He turned Sean around and stepped up behind him, rubbing his wet cock up and down in Sean’s crack as he worked his hands up and down the front, from the pec muscles to the cock and balls.

Then it was Edward’s turn to drop down onto his knees and bury his face inside Sean’s deep crack, spreading the round hills of the youthful ass apart so he could drive his tongue right down and into the hole. Here, again, was the proof that Sean had done this before – and many times. Almost at once, his tight hole yielded and let Edward’s tongue slip inside him. The captain kept tongue-fucking the apprentice until Sean was moaning nonstop, murmuring, “I want it… I want it…” over and over.

Edward stood up again, spat in his hand, spread it around the head of his tool, and then planted the bulbous tip against the hole and began to push. At once, the boy’s ass spread open, and his head slid right inside before the muscles snapped shut behind the rim. He then pushed on, slowly but steadily, as his shaft sank all the way inside this beautiful young hole. Sean was sighing and moaning quietly in his delight as this stalwart man took him all the way, fucking his hole right to the bottom, over and over.

As the speed of the fuck increased, Sean braced himself against the massive oaken rib curving up along the cabin wall, straining to hang on as his captain used his ass, fucking him into a dazzling haze of erotic sensations. That firm, straight cock was bumping up against his button every time it drove in, and Sean knew he was going to cum soon. He tried to hang on, but in just another minute the captain was fucking the cum out of him – and he hadn’t even grabbed and stroked himself.

“Awww… fuuuck…!” he cried aloud as the sperm rocketed up his shaft and spilled onto the deck in front of him. Despite the sudden clenching spasms from the muscles, the captain kept right on fucking him, harder and harder. In moments, Sean began cumming again, and then yet again. Edward kept right on driving into him as the waves of orgasm kept washing over him. The repeated muscle spasms gripping his cock started pulling Edward up to the brink, and then he erupted in multiple shots inside Sean’s clenching channel. Finally the cum stopped flowing, Edward stopped moving, Sean stopped cumming repeatedly, and the two of them slowly wound down from the most incredible climax either of them had ever experienced.

When Sean’s ass forced Edward’s slowly shrinking dick out of the hole, it was followed by a tidal wave of his hot sperm. The semen flowed gently down Sean’s legs, even as Edward tried to lick it all up. Then he stood up, turned the dazed apprentice around, and kissed him deeply, using his tongue to share all that hot cream with his partner. Sean clung to him, partly in ecstasy, and partly to keep from falling over. That powerhouse fuck and endless orgasm had really worn him out.

When Edward realized that Sean was struggling to stay on his feet, he picked the lad up and carried him in his arms over to the bed. He laid Sean down there, pushing him back against the bulkhead, and then lay down next to him, drawing his partner into his arms. They embraced and kissed gently.

“Sean, that was amazing.”

“Amazing doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“Would you like to do this again?”

“Not tonight. I’m done.”

Edward chuckled. “I meant tomorrow morning. Or tomorrow night. Or whenever.”

Sean realized exactly what Edward wasn’t precisely saying. It took him just a few seconds to think of a comfortable bed versus a swaybacked hammock, sensational sex on tap, and best of all the tenderness in the captain’s voice when he’d asked his question. It was an easy decision.

“Yes, I would. I’d love to. Thank you, sir.”

And they fell asleep together, arms wrapped around each other. In the morning, he’d sucked a first load out of the captain’s dick to wake him up properly. Then, that night, he’d let Edward fuck him and cum inside him twice more. Scarcely deterred even then, he’d sucked Edward into yet another erection, took that raging tool back into his hole – and the two of them had fallen asleep like that, big and little spoons, with a blissful smile on Sean’s face. He loved falling asleep with a man’s hard meat deep inside him, and Captain Edward, experiencing that treat for the first time, found it just as enjoyable.

The two of them had remained a regular couple, at sea at least, for several years. Between Sean when out at sea, and Esmeralda when at home, Edward was completely contented. In time, Sean’s skills on the business and navigation side of things led Edward to appoint him as first mate of one of his other ships, Euphemia. He and Sean both missed their long relationship, losing no chance to revisit it whenever both of their ships were in Kingston at the same time.

Now, with George having come aboard his ship, Captain Edward restrained himself from any further activities of that kind as he bent his energy instead to raising the next generation of the Treston family. It was an active education. The captain was a stern taskmaster, and he began at once to drill his son in the fundamentals of seamanship. He also tutored the boy in mathematics and astronomy, scientific backgrounds of immeasurable value in a shipping business. By age 10, George had his own sextant and was taking noon solar sights and working out the ship’s position with commendable care and accuracy.

In practical terms, young George applied all the energy and fearlessness of youth to mastering the skills of climbing the rigging, and soon could be found racing up and down the ratlines with a speed which would have done credit to the most experienced of topmast men.

Edward also lectured his son, in short but trenchant episodes, on the basics of the mercantile world, the skills of negotiating deals, the values of different cargoes, and the kinds of record keeping which would endear him to his shore-based customers.

Edward wanted to shield his son from some of the rougher aspects of life on board ship, and had the young boy sleep beside him, on a small mattress on the deck in the captain’s cabin at the stern. Alas for good intentions, George was an even more than usually inquisitive boy and managed to explore all kinds of nooks and crannies – which was how he had first spotted men fucking together. He also managed to find out a good many other things which his father would rather he hadn’t known about – some of them involving Edward’s propensity for slick and underhanded business deals. One thing, though, he never learned about until years later, and that was his father’s liking for a firm male ass to fuck when a woman was nowhere to be found.

George’s father knew without a doubt that his son was going to figure it all out sooner or later. Men at sea in wooden ships got just as horny as men on land, and they saw no reason to keep their bodily needs in check while out on the ocean and without female company. There was scarcely a night that didn’t see at least one roaring fuck scene played out in the cargo holds of any of the Treston ships. Other crew members, more brazen still, simply ripped off their pants, bent over the breech of one of the cannons, and took a fellow crewman’s raging erection right out in the open.

In time, it was plain to see that Edward Treston had every expectation that his only son should follow him as the sixth generation owner of the family business, and he was making certain that young George should be as fully prepared as possible. Only son? Yes – and George was destined to remain so, as far as Edward was concerned. Nine years after her son George was born (and after she had miscarried twice), Esmeralda became pregnant again, under circumstances which had appeared decidedly suspicious to Edward. She had insisted, amid floods of tears, that the child was indeed his and no one else’s, but he remained doubtful. Then Esmeralda had given birth to twin girls, both of whom shared Edward’s distinctive dark-red hair colour when their hair grew in. Edward had the grace to admit contritely that he had been wrong. But Esmeralda wasn’t there to see or hear herself vindicated. She had died shortly after childbirth, bleeding uncontrollably, and George had suffered the first devastating loss of his young life. He had loved his mother, not least because she had treated him with great affection – which was more than he could say for his father, who often regarded him as more a business apprentice than his child.

George was not altogether wrong in feeling that way about his parents, but he was very far wrong in extrapolating this to a belief that his father was incapable of any human feeling. The truth was far otherwise. Edward mourned for his Esmeralda, mourned to a degree which would have shocked many older and more experienced men than his son. The fact that he concealed his grief under his customary stern, gruff countenance when outside of his own private quarters proved less than nothing about his emotional state. In his own way, he was overset and knocked off his feet just as much as his son. Esmeralda had reached places deep inside his emotions which no one else had ever been able to touch in any way.

Despite his pain and loss, Edward was acutely conscious that he had to make some provision for his three children, and he filled the gap in the lives of his infant daughters by acquiring Phoebe, a slave girl with a better than average command of English, to be their nurse. He then arranged, through his contacts, for her to live with the babies in the home of Richard Lajambe, another merchant who now lived full time ashore in Kingston. For his son, George, his provision was to take his son with him again on his next voyage.

 

 

Edited November 11 by daddybear54

[seattlebbbtm]

This is a fun tale

[daddybear54]

Chapter 2   Growing Up at Sea

 

When George was thirteen years old, Edward made a long-planned change to the company’s overall business operations. He commissioned one of the leading builders in Kingston to construct a new addition to his little fleet. This order brought about the launching of the Ernestine V, the vessel which became his new flagship. The name was an obvious choice, since the older and slower Ernestine IV had met a sad end on an uncharted coral reef – a common hazard. The new build was the fastest and best-armed ship in the family’s history – a basic necessity for the latest trade opportunity which he intended to pursue. Edward Treston himself captained the new vessel for her first two working voyages. George was on board and learning every step of the way. There was a lot to learn.

Each stage of the ten-month voyage had its own distinctive cargoes with special rules for care and handling. The outbound leg from Kingston saw the Ernestine V loaded with casks of sugar, molasses, and rum, and with expensive spices from Grenada and St. Vincent. As well, there was a lively trade in coffee from Colombia and silver from Bolivia. These last two products were supposed to be royal monopolies of His Most Catholic Majesty, the King of Spain, but somehow a certain amount always managed to vanish from the official caravans and the fleets of the Spanish treasure galleons, only to reappear later in the cargo holds of the Ernestine V.

Some of these expensive and highly profitable cargoes were landed in North American ports such as  Charleston or Boston, but the bulk of the cargo always continued on across the Atlantic. By tradition, the Ernestine V docked in the company’s birthplace port of Bristol, offloading and selling the luxury goods for generous profits. A portion of those profits went to purchase various kinds of trade goods which would be of value at the next port of call. Business concluded, the ship was reprovisioned and then set sail for West Africa.

In one of the river estuaries of the Gulf of Guinea, along the so-called Gold Coast or Ivory Coast, the ship would anchor, and Edward would set up negotiations, doling out the various items purchased in England in exchange for hundreds of  bewildered young men and women linked together by chains and ankle irons. Once these were herded aboard and arranged, lying on their sides in tightly-packed rows in the empty open spaces of the slave deck, the ship sailed again, bound for San Juan or Santo Domingo, the sites of the two most profitable slave markets in the company’s home region. The human cargo was offloaded and auctioned in the markets at an enormous profit, and the Ernestine V then made a brief passage to Kingston to purchase more of the assorted luxury products which commanded such generous prices in England.

Throughout this multi-leg itinerary, the Ernestine V’s crew had numerous opportunities to display their prowess with loading, aiming, and firing the vessel’s numerous guns. Some of the firing was done purely for target practice, but each leg of the trip brought the possibility of armed encounters with pirates, enemy warships, or jealous rival slavers. This last group quickly learned to cut the Ernestine V a wide berth and detour around her at a safe distance. Edward Treston had equipped his pride and joy with the latest and most accurate cannons for long range work, making her as dangerous as a porcupine would be if it actually could, as rumour had it, throw or shoot its quills at an enemy.

After spending nearly two years commanding those two shakedown voyages, Edward turned over command of the Ernestine V to one of his senior captains. A certain cold-blooded disregard for others being a useful accessory for a slave trader, his long-time associate, Captain Worrickton, fitted the role to a “T”.

Edward Treston used this interval of time ashore to school his son in the business side of another new venture in the company’s affairs. Edward then took up the position of captain of his other new ship, the Carmelita, a ship designed from the outset with a shallow draught which enabled her to venture close inshore in the coastal waters of the Spanish Main for the dangerous work of acquiring contraband coffee, gemstones, and silver, among other things. Voyages on the Carmelita were a useful way to introduce George to the fine arts of bribery, smuggling, spying, and double-crossing, all essential knowledge as applied to this kind of clandestine and risky activity. This training led George to grow much more adventurous, entering his teen years with a decided taste for risky business and a devil-may-care attitude towards personal risks and the legal powers that be.

The work was risky, without a doubt. His Most Catholic Majesty’s naval ships were perfectly capable of blowing the Carmelita out of the water if the Treston ship were caught at its work, and they would not hesitate to do so – in theory, at least. But Captain Edward knew the best points of sailing of all the Spanish ships in the Caribbean, certainly far better than their captains knew or understood the capabilities of the Treston ships. He also commanded superior intelligence networks of the sort best developed by distributing ample quantities of Spanish gold dollars – always under the table, naturally. Evading the clumsy vessels and lackadaisical crews of His Most Catholic Majesty’s navy was simplicity itself compared to passing out bribes which were substantial and desirable enough to keep the trade channels open.

It was on the Carmelita that young George first encountered in person the third and by far the most significant influence in his life. Kiru had begun life in West Africa, before being scooped up by one of the frequent raids which kept the visiting slave ships well-supplied with cargo. He had been purchased to serve as one of the family slaves. Kiru had been taught to read and to write by an English missionary in his home community on the Gold Coast, and he’d developed a most unusual taste compared to many of the slaves – he was a voracious reader of books. Not just poetry, either – his favourite reading included books of scientific information and history from all parts of the world, areas which had been recognized and studied by English authors, and he soon surpassed almost all of his shipmates in literacy and in knowledge of all kinds.

George’s father, who used everyone’s skills whenever he could, was mightily impressed by Kiru’s appetite for knowledge, and his cultivated speech which sounded almost as if he had been educated in England. He decided to teach Kiru some basic business concepts, and the results were rewarding indeed. Recognizing Kiru’s physical strength and agility, his sharp mind, his impressive knowledge base, and his undoubted shrewd grasp of the business, Edward liberated him from slavery and hired him as an apprentice seaman on the Eugenia. Within two years, Kiru had developed such a grasp of the techniques of sailing, and of leadership responsibility, that Captain Treston had promoted him to second mate. It was only one of many things George’s father did that would have raised eyebrows – and hackles – in the family’s old home in England. Kiru’s status raised enough hackles as it was, even in free and easy Kingston.

When the Ernestine V was introduced into service, Kiru had balked at the invitation of transferring to her to serve as first mate alongside Captain Treston. Versatile he might be, but Kiru bluntly refused to play any role at all in the slave trade. He exchanged some harsh words with Edward on the subject, and he threw down the gauntlet by telling his boss to go ahead and fire him if that’s what he wanted. That was not what Edward Treston wanted at all, and Kiru knew it perfectly well.

 At last, Edward saw that in this one area he was not going to get his way, and he didn’t want to lose one of the best men in his entire company. His solution was to take the Eugenia’s first mate into the Ernestine V, leaving Kiru on the Eugenia as first mate until his other new ship, the Carmelita, should be ready, two years later.

George first sailed on the Carmelita at the age of fifteen, and he simply couldn’t take his eyes off Kiru. Right away, the second-in-command role was something no other English ship’s captain had ever dreamed of handing over to an African. Then there was Kiru’s coal-black skin, which gave him a huge advantage over most of the crew in coping with the blazing Caribbean sunshine.

Equally eye-catching to George, though, was Kiru’s massive muscular body, large dangling manhood, and big round balls, which were all on display whenever they anchored. When the ship was in port and all the loading or unloading was done for the day, custom decreed that everyone would get some downtime to leap into the ocean and wash themselves clean. This was where George really couldn’t keep his eyes off Kiru.

That sexual part of his education began two weeks into the voyage, on the night that ship was on passage from Port of Spain in Trinidad to Roatan Island in Honduras. Young George wandered down past the hatch that led down to the cargo hold and heard men’s voices grunting and groaning. He’d  learned enough long since to understand that sailors on long sea voyages didn’t confine their leisure activity to dice or cards, nor to the women they could get their hands on in Kingston or at other ports of call. When he sneaked quietly down the ladder into the hold and looked around, George soon realized that the hot scene of his dreams was on the agenda this night. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out the pale white form of Samuel, the ship’s boatswain. He was bent face-down over a bale of dyed cloth from Trinidad, and Kiru was working hard, buried deep inside Samuel’s white-cheeked ass.

George could feel his own cock getting hard, could feel it beginning to leak. But he didn’t move, hanging there by one hand and one foot on the ladder, staring incredulously as Samuel took the full length of that swollen, rigid tool over and over, the pumping motions getting faster and faster. His eyes opened wider and wider still as he watched Samuel’s ass getting stretched into a bigger gape with each stroke. Samuel was experienced in taking cock in his hole, but that massive black third arm was opening him up farther than even the blacksmith or the cooper in Kingston had ever managed, and the head was striking sparks out of him as it penetrated deep inside his channel with each powerful thrust.

As the action got faster and faster, Samuel twisted and squirmed with great energy, as if he were trying to escape from Kiru’s onslaught, except that he was making certain that he got as much of the huge black stud’s fucker inside his body as possible.

Now Kiru was grinding out words in his deep, rich bass voice. “Get ready, Samuel. I’m going to spend in you – fill you up with my man’s seed.”

Samuel cried out, “Yes! Now!!!” Then he shuddered, his contracting loins spewing multiple squirts of his own sperm onto the bale of cloth as Kiru roared and erupted deep inside his body. The noise, and the explosions, went on and on. George wasn’t even conscious that he had let go of the ladder with his right hand and grasped his own manhood through his breeches. He snapped back to reality to find the cloth under his hand sopping wet, and to feel the hot sperm running down his legs.

As Kiru slowed to a halt, George turned and fled. Kiru smiled to himself. He had seen the son of the boss staring at them from the ladder and drew a likely conclusion. In truth, Kiru was only confirming what he had already suspected.

George staggered back to his hammock in a daze. He’d jerked off many times, watching the men of the crew getting it on, but he’d never been so swept up in the erotic fire of lust as he had on this night. His cock refused to go down. All he could think about was Kiru’s massive erection, as he imagined it sliding up inside his body. He kept handling his own dick until he had exploded twice more. Then, finally, he managed to calm down enough to clean himself off and fall asleep.

Was it just a coincidence that Kiru came to find George the next day? “Your father, the captain, spoke to me, told me to teach you all I know – about the sea and ships. We’re going to start now.” So Kiru said, but George hoped that there was a double meaning in the words. Just the sound of Kiru’s dark, deep voice made the hair on George’s head quiver.

Captain Edward had trained his son by a mixture of books and lectures. Kiru used more of a hands-on method, taking George all around the ship with him and showing him how different parts of the standing and running rigging did their jobs, how the various fittings along the decks and bulwarks allowed them to be rove or hauled, and demonstrating how the positions of the sails affected the ship’s behaviour, depending on the direction and speed of the wind. The times when Kiru wrapped his enormous arms around George’s much more slender body to show him exactly how and when to pull on a rope or adjust the wheel – well, those lessons set George quivering even more than the man’s voice.

When they weren’t involved in the mechanics of working a ship under sail, Kiru told George endless stories about all the various ports of call to which he had sailed, and even harked back to his own younger days in Africa. As he talked, George realized more and more just why his father had freed and promoted Kiru, over the objections of his numerous peers in the shipping world.

Kiru was plainly a master of his work, an expert of the kind that every ship needed ready at hand, not least because of the small size of the ship’s crew. It was an old chestnut for merchant sailors to cut off any complaints from the men of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy with the undeniable fact that the merchant ship had to make do with five men where the man o’war did the same job with fifty. Just how it was possible to navigate and manage a ship this size with a tiny crew, and how to get the best work out of the crew at all times, those were Kiru’s specialties.

Kiru was also a different kind of man from Captain Edward in one very significant way. Where the captain snapped, snarled, barked, and fired insults at his men, Kiru was far more apt to urge, to invite, to treat the men as men and not as animated sail-pulling machines. This, even more than his skin colour, made him stand out like a sore thumb when they were in company with other ships. The captains based in Jamaica, to a man, believed that the harsh old school was the only way to run a ship. Kiru baffled them by getting results as good as, or better than, any of them without resorting to their old hard-edged style of command. His leadership quality often led to the Carmelita making all sail, weighing the anchor, and getting under way while others were still getting the crew into position for those manoeuvres.

Young George was quick to notice the difference in those results, and to notice the difference in the mood and attitude of the crew when Kiru was leading them, versus when his father was in command. One day, he asked Kiru.

“Sir, why do you not shout at the sailors as the captain does?”

That was another thing that would have ground a great many gizzards, both ashore and afloat – the spectacle of the son of a white man addressing a black-skinned African man as “sir”. The thing was, Kiru was far more than just a black man, whether you looked at his undoubted breadth of knowledge, his skill at handling ships, or at one of his other and even more striking attributes. Addressing him as “Sir” came naturally to George, without even thinking about it, as he was still a very junior member of the crew and Kiru was second in command.

George’s question hung in the air for a moment as Kiru turned and looked directly at him, his face solemn and serious to a greater degree than George could ever remember seeing. “It’s like this, George. When you’re chained to the slave deck for weeks, given nothing to eat, poked and prodded by strangers’ hands in the market, sold and bought like a bolt of cloth, seen how many get broken by the humiliation… let’s just say that it teaches you a thing or two. I treat the crew the way I wish someone had treated me. I got lucky – your father picked me out and gave me a life of my own. I hope to be the luck in a similar way for some of our sailors. Can’t be that if I harass and beat them the way I was beaten.”

The more George thought about it, the more he sensed that Kiru was onto something, a secret that almost nobody in either the merchant fleets or the Navy would ever be able to see. He guessed, and as it turned out, guessed rightly that it wouldn’t be long before Kiru was given command of a ship of his own.

It happened sooner even than George expected. His father decided to take some time to oversee the British arm of his operations and handed off management of the company’s work in Kingston to his business partner, Silas Braydon. More to the point, he passed on the command of the Carmelita to Kiru, who thus became the undoubted first African man ever to captain a British-designed and built sailing ship. If Kiru’s role as first mate had rubbed the rigid-minded members of the Kingston old guard the wrong way, seeing him standing proudly in the august place of Captain came near to causing them to burst into flames.

When Edward asked George what he would like to do next, George shyly replied that he was happy to stay on board the Carmelita and continue learning the trade under Kiru’s direction. Edward’s face displayed an enigmatic smile upon hearing those words. He was no fool and had already guessed what it was that his son really wanted to learn from the fleet’s newest captain. Ever since that night when he had watched Kiru plowing deep into Samuel’s ass, George had been a silent eyewitness to a number of other encounters of a similar kind. Of course, whoever was Kiru’s target of the moment was of less interest to him; it was watching Kiru’s impressive physique at work that caught and held his eye.

During his first voyage under Kiru’s command, George passed his sixteenth birthday – an event celebrated with great energy by the entire crew as the Carmelita lay at anchor in Port of Spain. Everyone knew or guessed by this time what it was that George wanted most of all, and they all guessed that he was going to get his wish that night.

Later on, Kiru went off to do his final rounds of the day, seeing that all the remainder of the crew were settled in the foc’s’le, with only the two men of the anchor watch on deck. When the captain returned to his cabin, he was a little surprised to find George standing right outside the cabin door.

“You looking for something, young George?”

George did his best to give a lascivious smile as he groped the front of his breeches. Kiru smiled in return, and his smile was the real deal – horny as a young boy himself and hot as the fires of hell. He pressed his hand against the front of his own breeches, and the size of the lump made it plain that he had a serious lust for the young man. He opened the door, drew George in after him, then closed and bolted the door behind them. Gesturing to the open skylight next to them, he then pressed his finger to his lips and George nodded, quivering with excitement. He found it hard to contain his excitement as they undressed, seeing Kiru’s bulging muscles and swelling cock closer at hand than he’d ever seen them before. George gulped as Kiru reached out, took him by the hand, and placed George’s fingers right onto the massive black shaft of his tool.

George knew what it was that Kiru wanted. He’d seen the captain getting that kind of help from others. George dropped, a little clumsily, onto his knees, and began to lick at the enormous head. Kiru showed him how to peel back the skin and release the tender head into the open air. As soon as George wrapped his lips around that head, Kiru shook in excitement from head to foot. He than placed his hands onto the back of George’s head, and steered him along the shaft, down to the base, and then back up to work on the head some more.

Kiru needed to demonstrate the next part himself. He pulled away from George and lifted the young novice to his feet. Then Kiru knelt down and began to suck George’s cock, taking the lad’s head and shaft right into his mouth and sliding down until most of it was in his mouth and in his throat. He breathed loudly through his nose, showing George how to avoid choking.

After a minute of this treatment, Kiru sensed that George was about to erupt, and he didn’t want that to happen – not yet. He wanted to feel George cumming when he was buried to the hilt inside that tender, virginal asshole. He murmured in George’s ear, “Now, you show me.” George again went to his knees and proved that in this, as in so much of seamanship, he was a quick learner.

Wanting it so badly was a big part of it. George quickly mastered the trick of dropping his jaw and letting the manmeat slide through and into his throat as he breathed deeply through his nose. Kiru grasped the back of the boy’s head and began gently face-fucking him, his thick knob straining the back of the boy’s throat as he pumped it deeper and deeper at each stroke. He was getting his first taste of precum as he sucked, the juice mixing with his saliva into a heady cocktail in his mouth.

George’s jaw was aching by this time, but he badly wanted to suck Kiru to completion, to feel the mighty bolts of man juice streaming out into his mouth and down his throat. But there was something else that he wanted even more. He pulled off of Kiru’s massive cock and stood up, still caressing it firmly as he turned around and rubbed his pert buttocks against the oozing head.

Kiru leaned down and asked him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You know it’s going to hurt. You ought to start with someone smaller.”

“I’m sure. I want you to be my first.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, Kiru bent George over the cot and took a washcloth, soaking it with water from the pitcher, then washing down and wiping the boy’s ass. Once he’d cleaned George’s crack, he bent forwards and began to lick and tongue the mounds, then dug down in between them to find the tight hole and go to work on it.

George moaned fiercely, but Kiru grabbed another cloth and reached up to shove it into his mouth   then returned to his task. As he ate the boy’s hole with increasing energy, he quickly had George squirming in excitement, rising onto his toes in the desire to push more of himself back into Kiru’s aggressive tongue.

Then Kiru introduced a finger into the action, keeping up his licking and kissing and sucking as he wormed the finger into George’s hole up to the second joint. By this time, George was breaking a sweat from the fury of his reactions to the treatment that Kiru’s tongue and finger were giving him. He had imagined the feeling of a thick slab of cock wrenching his hole open, but he’d never expected such overwhelming waves of ecstasy crashing through his entire body. We was so consumed in his lust that he didn’t even notice when Kiru began working some kind of lotion into his quivering hole.

But then George felt the blunt head of his captain’s thick black cock pushing against his tight opening, and he instinctively seized up. Kiru wrapped his arms around George’s shaking body and placed his mouth right against George’s ear. “Breathe, George. Deep breaths. And relax. Just let your muscles go slack. Push out – and then relax. And keep breathing, deep.” He kept murmuring the words quietly, soothingly, a mantra of calm and release in the young man’s ear. And George heard him, took it in, gradually managed to relax his muscles, let his hole open, let the enormous intruder force an entry.

All at once, the entire head was lodged firmly inside his sphincter. George wanted to cry out the pain, but the cloth was still there in his mouth, silencing his voice. He kept breathing, deep, harsh breaths, sucking air out of the sky, struggling to keep control of his body as the thick, black shaft forced its hard path inside his body. George wanted to scream from the pain, but even more he wanted to yell aloud to Kiru to push the rest of it into him. The want soon won the battle. Once he was over the shock of the initial entry, George managed to relax somehow, he couldn’t say how, and the huge plunderer slowly slid deeper and deeper inside him.

It took another fifteen minutes of slow, cautious, movement, but finally the moment came. Kiru had managed to sink his entire massive tool into George’s virgin hole, the rim clenched around the very root, the huge shaft feeling to George like someone had inserted a new bone into him. It hurt him, it hurt like hell, but George didn’t complain or cry out. This was what he had wanted, all that he had wanted. This was the greatest dream of his young life, to have the entire manhood of this massive hunk of masculine power embedded deep inside his body. And he wanted more.

Kiru could never remember afterwards how he had managed to hang on as long as he did. As it was, it seemed a miracle that he actually managed to delay his orgasm for three minutes after his hips had landed firmly against George’s sweet young ass. All he managed to do was to start moving slowly, drawing his giant rod a bit out, and then sliding back in, while George kept on moaning and hissing in total sexual abandon.

But then time ran out. George lost control, and his harshly-stretched asshole struggled to contract as he exploded, spraying his cum across everything in reach as he experienced the wildest orgasm of his life. Those sudden, violent contractions did it for Kiru as well, and before he could even think of what to do, his cock was convulsing and pumping his seed deep inside the young ass of his junior crew member.

In time, George’s ass forced the intruder out. The two of them lay, side by side, gasping for air after the strenuous climax of their mating. Kiru pulled the cloth out of George’s mouth and used it to mop up the stream of cum pouring slowly out of that no-longer-tight ass, as the hole refused to close up from the beating it had taken. Then he planted his bulging arms around George’s slender body and drew the boy into an embrace. Their mouths joined together as George, having just lost his virginity to the captain’s rock-solid tool, now experienced his first ever man-to-man kiss. And time stood still.

“Happy Birthday, young George.” Kiru’s voice held a warmth which George had never heard before.

His answer was equally warm, an incongruous contrast to the formulaic words: “Thank you, sir.”

Within another week or so, George had abandoned his hammock in the tween decks and moved into the captain’s cabin. There was nothing really startling about this to the rest of the crew. The relationship between Kiru and George would have been impossible on a naval ship, but in this setting there was no particular negative vibe towards a senior officer sharing his quarters with a crew member. The attitude among merchant seamen at this distance from their homeland, in this as in so many matters, was tolerant, with a strong feeling of live and let live.

Over the next two years, George’s training in seamanship moved forward at a great pace. So did his training in the fine arts and skills of man-to-man sex. Kiru was an incredible teacher in both of those subjects. George, for his part, thoroughly understood how fortunate he was to have such an amazing teacher.

During these key years, Kiru had taught George just about everything there was to know during their nightly shared sessions in the captain’s cabin. George had experienced every position imaginable, learning about the hundred and one ways he could arouse his partner with fingers and tongue. Nor did Kiru do all the heavy lifting by any means. As a big, muscular man with a thick, long cock and heavy balls, it was normal that other men expected Kiru to take charge all the time, but the truth was that he enjoyed being on the receiving end too.

As with taking Kiru’s cock inside his own ass, George had quickly begun to master the techniques of how to make Kiru feel good while enjoying the experience of fucking the captain’s ass in return. In time, his favourite position was to fuck Kiru in missionary, lying right down between the man’s massive muscular thighs and stroking and kissing Kiru as he drove his arrow-straight tool deep into the captain’s strong hole.

Although Kiru worked George to the bone on deck and in the rigging during the daylight hours just as much as he did with all the rest of the crew, George held no resentment for that. After all, Kiru was just as unsparing with himself as he was with his sailors. Not for him the life of idle luxury, sitting on the quarterdeck and fanning himself with a palm leaf while the crew drove themselves into exhaustion. Some captains were known to behave that way, but Kiru was never one of them. He was a born leader, and he led from the front, rather than driving his men from behind. It was this leadership quality more than anything which had led George’s father to single him out and train him for an officer role.

Now, Kiru was doing the same with George. He hadn’t even needed the explanation that Edward had given him to know that George was being prepared to take over the leadership of the company in his turn. At the moment, Kiru was George’s superior officer, but he knew full well that a day would come when he would be taking orders from George. That prospect didn’t bother him at all. What did begin to trouble Kiru was the realization that he was developing serious feelings of affection towards his employer’s son.

It was hardly surprising. In a life stripped of all opportunities for family affection, George had become an emotional anchor for Kiru, a person who gave him positive support and a safe shelter from the cross-currents of life. In truth, Kiru had never been given the chance to develop any kind of positive relationship with another human being after he’d been brutally torn away from his home and his mother when he was still only ten years old, give or take a bit (he didn’t actually know for certain how old he was nor which day of the year was his birthday). Lying in bed, nestling up against George’s ass with his cock buried inside, or simply falling asleep with his arms wrapped around his younger lover – all of this was a heady emotional tonic for the former slave.

It was a heady emotional tonic for George as well. His own life had been bleak since the tragic death of his mother, given the austere, even cold, emotional climate of his relationship with his father. George felt the affection flowing out to him from Kiru, and he returned it in full measure. By the time he had reached his eighteenth birthday, George had come to regard Kiru as his full partner, his husband, his lover – call it what you like.

Perhaps, then, it was unsurprising that George’s eighteenth birthday should have ended the way it did. Since the rest of the crew really liked George, they went all out to throw a special party on the big day “to welcome the newest man joining the crew of the Carmelita!” There were little presents, most of them handmade knickknacks and such, and the cook even baked a cake generously flavoured with Barbados rum.

The rum flowed freely that night, too, but George didn’t make a fool of himself. He’d long since found that he didn’t care all that much for the taste of liquor, and he’d learned how to sip slowly and cautiously while others guzzled heartily. As for Kiru, he knew perfectly well that danger could appear at any moment in any of a hundred unexpected ways. He, too, drank slowly and with caution, determined that no harm would come to his ship because of his carelessness. The party was a huge success all around, and George floated to bed on a cloud of personal exhilaration.

And that was when he received the best gift of all. Kiru had fucked him very slowly and gently, remaining face to face with George in missionary throughout the entire act. Despite his size, and his muscular build, he could be very gentle when required and he was gentle now. He remained joined with George, mouth to mouth, hands to body, and cock to hole, through a solid hour of sexual ecstasy during which George came three times while Kiru pumped two big loads of  his hot African sperm into George’s body. As they lay quietly, stroking each other in the afterglow of that intense peak experience, it was Kiru who said the magic words: “George, I love you.”

And George, despite his youth, wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear that. This was the way it was, the way it had to be. It was the most natural thing in the world that Kiru should have said those words, and it was the most natural thing, too, that George’s next words, in return, would be, “I love you, Kiru.”

Kiru would feel remorse later, knowing better than his younger lover that life would tear them apart from each other soon enough. George still lacked the maturity to know that there was, in the end, no such thing as a happy ending. Death lay in wait around many unexpected and dangerous corners in their adventurous world. In the emotional high of the moment, though, Kiru hadn’t been able to restrain himself from reaching out to grasp the happiness that was there for him to take, freely offered. Nor had he been able to resist the glowing happiness in George’s face when he had said the magic words back to Kiru in reply. And perhaps, he thought, George did understand, in his own way, that this happiness which they shared was for now – but not for all time.

 

 

[daddybear54]

Chapter 3    Change of Command

 

George and Kiru remained together for another two years in the Carmelita, linked in a rock-solid relationship which was a marriage in all but name. During that time, the ship’s first mate, Seddon, died unexpectedly, falling overboard and drowning during a seizure. Kiru appointed George as the interim first mate, pending their return to Kingston. There, the business manager confirmed  the appointment.

When Ernest returned from his four-year sojourn in England, he simply smiled at the sight. It was perhaps forgivable that he looked a bit smug at having guessed correctly what was going to happen behind his back. Both of the pair had often had moments of unhappiness and even bleak despair because of the emotional holes in their lives, and Edward was actually thrilled to see that these darker moments had all but vanished. His strongest captain and his son and successor had helped to complete each other in so many ways – and it was this completeness that really put the smile on Edward’s face.

But he had no time to sit still and enjoy his success. Shortly after his return from England, his flagship, Ernestine V, made port in Kingston under the command of her first mate from the northern fjords, Torvald  Ericsson. From him, Edward learned that Captain Worrickton had taken early retirement – wrapped in a sailcloth. He had been killed in a duel with a competing slave ship captain in one of the river mouths on the Gulf of Guinea. His rival had offed him by a thrust with the sword which went cleanly through his heart. The crew had brought the body aboard the ship, sailed out into the ocean, and buried him at sea in the traditional manner. All this had, of course, happened some months previously, and Ericsson had been forced to assume command for the remainder of the voyage to San Juan, and then at last back to home port in Kingston.

Edward had planned to take command of Egeria as a stopgap, but now realized that he was going to have to return to sea in one of the bigger ships. Since the older captain of the Euphemia had retired for health reasons, he decided to shift the captain of Egeria to the Ernestine V, and take  command of Euphemia himself. This meant that Egeria would need a new captain – and that left him with only one other person who could conceivably assume the commanding role. He hated to do it, but it was time – and it had to happen. Edward called in his son.

“George, I assume you know that we have a problem – a shortage of competent officers. Because of what happened, I’m going to have to go back to sea in command of Euphemia. I’ve looked around a bit in Kingston, and I haven’t found anyone who’s available that I’d be willing to trust with one of my ships. So, it’s a problem. I’ve shifted Captain Blackstone to Ernestine V, I’m going to assume command of Euphemia, and now I can only think of one person already in the company who might possibly be up to the commanding role for Egeria. It’s fair enough to call this the junior command of the company, since she’s the smallest ship and serves the most local ports in Grand Cayman, Hispaniola, and the Bahamas as well as Jamaica itself.”

George knew that this conversation was of the kind that he and his father would be having more often in future, as he had to become more involved in the workings of the company. “Who did you have in mind, sir?”

Edward hesitated for just a moment. “I’m looking at him right now.”

Edward was pleased to see that George didn’t flinch right away. His eyes showed that his mind was racing, adding up all the pluses and minuses, the challenges and the consequences of this promotion his father wanted to give him. Edward could see the exact moment when George’s thoughts landed on the reality that he and Kiru would have to be split up. It was only then that his face fell – and he began to look uncertain.

“What is it, George?”

“It’s hard to explain, sir.”

“Let me help you out with that. It’s Kiru. You’re in love with him. You love him just as much as he loves you, and both of you want nothing more than to be together.”

George’s jaw had dropped. When he finally recovered his composure, he asked one question: “How did you guess?”

Edward smiled, a smile that showed more compassion than George had ever seen in his father’s expression before. “George, I didn’t even have to guess. It obvious to the eye as soon as anyone sees the two of you together. There are so many little things – the way you stand closer to each other than men usually do, the way you give each other little touches on the arm or shoulder, the way you turn and look at each other from time to time, the way you finish each other’s sentences….”

George cut in. “Are you angry, Father?”

Edward laughed. “Far from it. It’s the best thing that could have happened, for both of you.”

“Then why are you going to break us up?” But George already knew the answer, even before Edward spoke in reply.

“It’s not because I want to, believe me. But there’s a basic rule you’re about to learn the hard way. It’s summed up in three words: Business Before Pleasure. The simple truth is that Kiru has done his job all too well, training you to such a pitch of skill that you and he are both essential to the Treston business as captains. I wish it weren’t so, but I need both of you to lead crews on two of the ships, and that’s all there is.”

“I know, sir.” George was still monumentally unhappy, but he could see the point even before his father finished explaining it to him. Business was a hard taskmaster, and that was all that could be said.

“But I can give you a small consolation. Both Carmelita and Egeria are due for docking and careening. I’ve arranged for the work to be done at Robertson’s shipyards. You and Kiru can certainly feel free to spend some time together ashore while the ships are being repaired.”

Edward went even further than his words suggested. He rented a house in Kingston so that his son and Kiru could have some privacy during the time their ships were taking turns at the shipyard. At the same time, he left some pretty strongly worded “suggestions” for George. Kiru laughed when he read them, and smacked George’s bare butt in the morning as he said, “Come on, Captain, time to get moving and start to learn your new job!”

Kiru now helped George to navigate the challenges of preparing a ship for sea – the ins and outs of provisioning, of topping up the armaments and the magazine, of onboarding and stowing the cargo, and most of all, of running down and signing up a quality crew. Quantity was not an issue. The brothels and taverns of Kingston were filled to overflowing with experienced sailors. The trick was, as Kiru explained it, to find the right men. “You don’t want a crew made up of experienced drunkards, George. This is where you learn to see under the skin, to decide quickly whether the man you’re meeting for the first time is going to be good crew or trouble. And then you learn to make snap decisions.”

“I’m going to make a mess of this.”

“Probably you will, George. That’s normal, in a first command. The important thing is not to think of it as a mess – think of it as a lesson learned, so you won’t make a mess the same way again. And then, next time, do better.”

In a few days, George had assembled a big enough scratch crew to take Egeria to sea for trials when her repairs were completed. As first mate, he had his contemporary, Roger. This healthy, well-formed young man had been Captain Edward’s main squeeze on his last voyage, but he had also proved himself thoroughly as a sailor and a leader. George was, as it happened, completely ignorant of Roger’s history with his father. All he cared about at this stage was having a competent second-in-command, and he’d achieved that.

Busy as they were in daytime, George and Kiru managed to spend all of their evening hours together. Their respective crews knew what the score was, or at least that their two captains were living together, but it’s doubtful if many of them ever sensed just how deep the still waters were running beneath their leaders’ business-like outward appearance.

They made love together every night, anxious to build up a store of memories against the time when they must be separated. One night, Kiru would take George and give him another one of his signature mind-blowing fucks. The next night, it would be George’s turn to return the favour. While his cock wasn’t as sensational, that didn’t matter at all. The two men were now coming together much more for the emotional sensations than for the physical act.

The time of their parting came. George’s ship, Egeria, was ready for sea first, the bottom newly coated with sealant tar and copper, the upper works bright with new paint and gold lead, the figurehead of Egeria herself newly cleaned and embellished, and the crew all in place. George awoke early that day. He was due to sail with the morning tide, and the ebb was due to begin at about nine-thirty. Between excitement and trepidation, George was wide awake at five o’clock and unable to get back to sleep. He studied the sleeping form of Kiru next to him as the early dawn light seeped into the room through the shutters. It was a sight which never failed to excite him. George lay there, stroking his cock gently as he studied this magnificent man, his lover.

At last he could bear it no more. He bent down and began to suck on Kiru’s cock, encouraging it as it rapidly began to swell and harden. As he worked, he heard Kiru’s voice, “Well, I wondered when you were going to wake me up.”

George laughed and pulled himself up and into Kiru’s arms. “This is it, then. I want you to give it to me one more time, before I have to go.”

Kiru rose magnificently to the occasion. George’s hole, now thoroughly accustomed to his massive erection, welcomed him in. The two of them, locked together, moving in unison, became as one yet again. George’s rhythm of contracting his well-trained muscles milked Kiru’s cock in perfect time with his slow yet mighty thrusts. Their arms locked around each other’s bodies, the two of them took each other slowly but irresistibly right up to the moment when Kiru hammered suddenly, fiercely downwards into George’s body and spewed his usual torrent of man juice into his younger partner’s body.

After they’d finished, they lay together in the dawn quiet, caressing and kissing each other. And then it was time. They got up out of bed, washed and dressed, and had a last goodbye at the door, with a final deep, heartbreaking kiss.

George took up his kitbag and swung it onto his shoulder, and then walked away down the steps and along the street to the landing where he could hire a boat to take him out to Egeria as she rode easily at anchor. He didn’t turn and look back, if only so that he wouldn’t burst into tears in public.

Kiru went and stood by the window, watching through his telescope. He didn’t move from his post as the boat reached the ship, as George swung himself and his gear on board, and as the topsails blossomed. He continued watching as Egeria hoisted the anchor, gathered way, and swung easily around to head down through the channel, away from Kingston, away from headquarters, away from him. She passed by Port Royal Point and still Kiru stood and watched through his telescope. Only after the sails had dwindled into a dot beyond South Cay did Kiru finally lower the glass and turn back from the window, setting his face firmly toward his own day’s work, as he prepared Carmelita to return to the sea at the beginning of the next week.

On board Egeria that evening, George and Roger had finished the work of sailing day and had a chance to relax and walk the deck together while talking over the plan for the voyage. On this trip, they were going first to Grand Cayman, then on to Belize, and a final call at Roatan before returning to Kingston. The two fell easily into a good working partnership as the ship sailed westwards.

Despite a spell of calm weather which slowed them down, Egeria anchored off the shore of Grand Cayman on the third day out. George and Roger worked together as a team, directing the men as cargo to be offloaded was swayed up from the holds and dropped into the lighters alongside. Then came the outbound cargo, some for delivery to Roatan but the bulk of it going right around their route and back to Kingston. Similar routines followed at Belize and Roatan. Both captain and first mate had plenty of experience with planning and executing these offshore anchorage stops, and the crew worked well.

As tradition dictated, the crew enjoyed a quick swim in the ocean after their work at Grand Cayman was done and before they sailed. It was a tricky channel through the reefs, so they would wait for daylight to sail. George stayed on board. The water looked tempting, but he wanted to set a tone as captain that he was on duty even when others were not. His father had never bothered to remain on his dignity at such times, but George was acutely conscious that almost all of his crew were older than he was (at the ripe old age of 22), and he refused to let crew discipline slacken until he felt more at ease in his role. He also remained on board in Belize. But when they reached their final port in Roatan, Roger had a talk with him.

“Sir, that’s twice now that you haven’t joined in the ritual swim. I’ve heard the crew talking. They’re starting to think you’re too full of yourself, too pompous, too aristocratic to mingle with us lowly sailors. You should jump in today. I can keep watch on deck.”

George thought for a moment; he could see the justice in what Roger was saying.

“Thank you, Roger, I will do that.”

Roger nodded to the boatswain, who blew his whistle and bellowed, “Crew on deck to jump in the ocean!”

The eight sailors came tearing up the main hatchway, buck naked, shooting like rockets one by one over the side of the ship and into the water. “Coming, sir?” the last one called.

George quickly handed off his telescope to Roger, whipped his clothes off, and dived neatly over the side of the ship to the accompaniment of whistles and hoots of merriment. They swam around in the water all together for a few minutes, laughing and joking, while Roger watched, smiling. He could see the danger of a split between captain and crew vanishing like a puff of smoke. But he could see more than that, and certainly liked what he saw.

After about fifteen minutes, the crew all climbed aboard. George settled the issue of precedence before anyone began climbing by stating firmly, “I will go last.” That way, he also got a grandstand view of the parade of naked asses and cocks. The truth was, though, that George wasn’t really looking. In his head, he was mentally counting the days until the end of his fourth voyage, in about six weeks time. That was expected to be the next time that Egeria and Carmelita would both be in Kingston at the same time.

At last he climbed over the side at the end of the parade, seized the towel which Roger held out for him, and rubbed himself dry, feeling happier than he had felt since coming aboard. He gave orders to secure the ship for sea, but then glanced at the horizon and the setting sun and added that they would sail at dawn.

After eating dinner, he retired to his cabin. The boatswain, who was doubling as the second mate on this small ship, had the deck from eight to midnight. Roger would be on duty from midnight to four in the morning, and George would take the deck then, using those early hours to advantage to think through the hazards on the voyage back up to Kingston.

At six o’clock, as the sky was lightening, Egeria weighed anchor again and set course for home, steering first around the southeastern end of the island and then heading off to the northeast. George remained on deck for much of the day. He always loved being at sea, feeling the motion of the ship beneath his feet, the tropical breeze on his face, watching with one eye always on the sails and the crew, while the other idly scanned for dolphins and flying fish – and perhaps a larger whale for variety. Being out on the open ocean had always given him a feeling of peace.

He needed it. There was no one he could talk to, but the truth was that the separation from Kiru was weighing heavily on him. He did his best to remain approachable in all circumstances, but he felt more and more as if the one place he wanted to be was in his cabin, where he could hide his unhappiness from the eyes of his crew. He did his work, did it well and thoroughly, earned the respect of the sailors and of his first mate, but otherwise he kept very much to himself.

Roger sensed the tension and the unhappiness causing it, and he understood, better than George would have guessed. He, too, was missing someone – his lady love ashore in Kingston. He had hoped to be given a captain’s position, as that would have given him the financial security to ask for her hand. Her father, himself an old sea dog, would settle for nothing less, and he knew it. For all that, Roger didn’t begrudge George the captain’s role. He was sharp enough to realize that George’s training was moving into its final stages. Not only that, but Roger liked the owner’s son and looked forward to many years of working for George when he took over from his father in the top office of the company.

The next evening, as the ship continued to the northeast, Roger decided to take the bull by the horns. He buttonholed the captain who was on his way to his cabin again. “Is everything all right, sir?”

George sighed and thought for a moment. “With the ship and the crew, yes. The captain, maybe not so much.”

“I know how you feel because I feel the same way – and for the same reason. You need to work out some of your frustration. So do I. Maybe we could help each other out.” As he said that, Roger reached down and grasped his bulge, then leaned towards George and let the back of his hand brush George’s crotch. There was no chance of George mistaking his first mate’s meaning.

Nor did he. As if for the first time, he noticed Roger’s broad shoulders and tight waist, and the growing bulge in the front of the first mate’s pants. His physical tension and frustration overrode any emotional scruples he might otherwise have felt. He opened the door of the cabin, pulling Roger in after him.

Clothes flew at top speed in all directions. George couldn’t sense for a minute what role Roger might want to play, but since his muscled ass was just as attractive as his thick tool, George would be prepared to do it any way he wanted. But then Roger sent a clear signal, pulling George close to him, grinding their crotches together as he stretched his arms down George’s back to begin playing with his captain’s ass.

In just another moment he had his index finger prying into George’s crack, seeking the tight button which he would undo to get into the captain’s tight hole. As he poked and prodded, the hole suddenly took on a life of its own, opening up and letting Roger’s finger in, then clamping down around that finger and trying to suck it further inside.

“Ohhh… nice….” Roger’s voice came out in a low purr, feeling George’s ass opening to him, begging Roger to fuck him deep and hard. “You like this, George? You like my finger inside you? You want to feel my big cock in there?”

“Yeahhhh.” The low, hot-breathed sound hit Roger’s ears like a flatiron, demanding to be taken and used and filled with cock and sperm.

With that, Roger pulled away. “Get on your face,” he snapped. George spun around and knelt on the cot, head down and ass thrust up. Roger dropped onto his knees on the deck, forcing his face into the deep crevice between George’s firm, round cheeks. His tongue was already out, probing, seeking, digging into the mounds to find the gate to George’s body, the tight hole where Roger could have his way, feeling this beautiful young man’s deepest and most personal inner sanctum. George kept moaning in delight as Roger’s tongue teased his body into a ferment. He could happily have let Roger keep eating him all the way to the finish line.

But Roger had other ideas. He was a man on a mission, and he was going to plunder his captain’s hole, wasting no time about it. He stood up, spat in his hand, wiped it all over his rigid dick, then placed the head right against George’s hole.

“Get ready.”

George took a deep breath and then bit down hard, swallowing the scream as Roger gave his tool a mighty shove, forcing the whole shaft inside George’s ass in one quick thrust. Nor did he stop there. He fucked George with power and speed, plunging in and out repeatedly. He wasn’t gentle, and he knew from George’s reaction that he didn’t have to be. George kept reaching back, grabbing at his thighs, pulling him in harder and harder on each stroke. Roger began slapping at the sides of George’s butt, the repeated smacks from his hands punctuating the slapping sounds as his thighs beat out a fucking tattoo on George’s firm round cheeks.

George was crying out now, a repeated refrain of “Yes… yes… yes…” as Roger pounded deep into him. His hole was grabbing at Roger’s dick, urging the first mate to work it even harder. But then Roger’s cock cast the deciding vote, suddenly swelling even larger and then spitting huge globs of his sperm deep inside his captain’s ass. Roger breathed deeply, snatching at the air as he came down slowly from his explosion. But George hadn’t peaked yet. He urged Roger to keep driving it into him, and after a brief pause to catch his breath, Roger obliged.

The second round lasted even longer than the first one, but Roger was more than equal to the task, plundering his captain’s body even deeper and harder than before. He now reached around and grabbed George’s swollen member, stroking it firmly as he drove his own farther and farther inside. And then it happened. George gasped aloud, and his cock spasmed in Roger’s hand, spraying his own sperm across the cot. The spasms grasping at Roger’s tool brought him back up to the brink, and with a loud grunt he pumped another load of his juices into George’s no longer tight hole.

At last he withdrew slowly, and flopped down onto the cot beside George, who obligingly shifted over to make room for him.

“You enjoyed that.” George’s voice wasn’t accusing, just matter of fact.

“Oh, yes. So did you – but I knew you would. You and Kiru are the talk of Kingston.”

“What are they saying about us?”

“Just that you’re seen as a married couple now, nothing much else.”

“And you?”

Roger thought for a moment – and then, for the first time ever, he answered such a question with complete honesty. “I really enjoyed it. Women or men, I like it all. It was a nice change of pace.”

“Nothing more, Roger?”

“What have you been hearing?” Roger’s tone carried an edge of worry.

“Nothing at all, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Well, George, when I said it was a change of pace, I wasn’t referring to being with a man instead of a woman. What I really meant was that it was a change to be giving it to the captain instead of getting it from him.” George pondered that for a moment and then suddenly his eyes opened wide. Roger laughed. “That’s right, George. You’re not the first ship’s captain I’ve done it with. And he was really good – excellent cock-sucker and a great fucker.”

George was in absolute shock. Why it had never occurred to him that he and his father had this experience in common, he couldn’t even guess. But the revelation that his father, too, enjoyed fucking male ass and sucking cock had completely overwhelmed his mind.

Roger got up to get dressed, then leaned down to kiss George goodnight. “Hope you’ll sleep better now, captain. I know I will.” He slung his coat over his shoulder and left the cabin with a jaunty wave. George rolled over and quickly fell asleep, filled and satisfied. And tomorrow, they would be back in Kingston.

The next voyage saw the Egeria calling at Montego Bay, Nassau, Grand Turk, and Providenciales before returning to Kingston. The two trips after that added one or two more stops to these, Port Antonio and Cap-Haitien being among the occasional calls, but the basic pattern was set and continued on the usual round with each voyage lasting 10-12 days. By now, the crew had welded together into a tight-bonded unit, doing all the regular tasks with complete efficiency and minimal wasted time. George wouldn’t have taken the credit to himself, but he had exercised excellent judgement in picking his team.

Of course, his positive frame of mind owed a great deal to the occasional visits from Roger. The first mate’s energetic fucking served to keep him from curling up into a ball of misery when he was off duty. At least twice on every voyage, Roger would plant his rigid dick deep inside George’s ass and pound him deep and hard until he exploded inside. George didn’t just ask for it; he demanded it. “Hurt me, damn your eyes, hurt me! Rip me wide open! I want to feel you in there!!!” He couldn’t have explained this sudden urge for rough, hard, painful ecstasy if he were asked. It just seemed like the right way for him to relate to his first mate, to still be in charge even while Roger was taking charge of him.

At last the day came when Egeria came sailing up the channel into Kingston for the fourth time since George had taken her on his first voyage as her captain, six weeks earlier. As chance would have it, Roger was in command – but George was also on deck, looking around at the familiar surroundings, surveying the ships docked and anchored, and watching Roger’s handling of the entire arrival process. And it was Roger, thanks to his telescope, who was first to spot the familiar profile of Carmelita’s distinctive rigging.

“Sir, Carmelita is here already – two points to starboard, behind Port Royal Point.”

“Ah, yes, there she is.”

Roger could tell that George was keeping his feelings on a tight leash, but he felt sure that inwardly his captain’s heart was singing for joy. And so indeed it was – but only for a moment, as George kept staring at the distant masts..

“Roger, what’s that flag flown in her rigging. A signal?”

Roger looked through the glass. “Sir, it’s….” His voice died away as the meaning of what he was seeing dawned on him.

“Spit it out, man.”

“It’s the Union Flag, sir, but she’s flying it at half mast.”

George’s heart fell with a sickening thud. Anticipating joy and love, he now had to prepare himself for loss and sorrow instead.

Egeria moved farther into the harbour, around closer to Carmelita where there was space for her to anchor, not far offshore from the Treston warehouses. Roger took the ship through the rest of the arrival manoeuvres, timing the dropping of the anchor and getting in of the sails to perfection. Just as Stubbs, the boatswain, announced that the crew could stand down while the anchor watch was set, Roger and Stubbs spotted the boat at the same moment.

“Sir, Carmelita is sending a boat to us.”

“Thank you, Stubbs.”

George was mentally bracing himself. As the boat drew closer, though, he spotted the imposing figure and coal-black skin of the man he loved, and he felt a quick rush of relief. But still, there was that half-lowered flag.

The boat drew alongside, and Kiru swung himself up the main chains and onto the deck. George looked at the bleak expression on Kiru’s face and felt his heart sinking again. This could mean only one thing, the only other thing which he would dread to hear. George braced himself anew.

“Captain, I bring grave news to you. Your father has died.”

George forced himself to hold his rigidly erect posture and preserve his calm face.

“How did it happen?”

“He fell ill of the yellow fever, and it carried him off three days ago, just as Euphemia was sailing into Kingston harbour. I am so sorry for your loss. The manager is waiting for you ashore at the pier. He will come out to you as soon as you are ready to receive him.”

With that speech, George knew that his apprenticeship had ended. He turned to Roger, whose solemn face showed that he understood exactly what a momentous event this was. “Send the boat to the pier for Mr. Braydon, if you please, Roger.”

Kiru, returning to his own ship, heard the twitter of the boatswain’s pipe from Egeria, saw the boat rowing away towards the pier, marked the slow descent of the ship’s flag to half mast. He’d been impressed by George’s calm demeanour in the face of such unhappy news. Kiru knew perfectly well that George would now be expected to step forward and take on the ownership and control of the entire company. Like his father, he would certainly go to sea again, but business affairs would increasingly claim his time. Kiru knew how badly George would need the calm and peace that only he could give at this time. It wasn’t the homecoming either of them had hoped for and anticipated, not at all, but it had to be faced. And if George could face it and not flinch, then so could he.

 

 

[daddybear54]

Chapter 4  Fresh Start

 

George’s meeting with Braydon, the manager, was awkward and stilted. There were so many questions George wanted to ask, and he didn’t know where to begin. For his part, Braydon was being very circumspect, revealing little of substance in his conversation. He was struggling with trying to find the best way to tell this young man that he was now the sole owner of the Treston interests, the fleet of ships, the warehouses, and all the goodwill which the business had built up through multiple generations.

In fact, though, and unknown to Braydon, George already knew. His father had made a will when George turned twenty-one, placing the entire business in George’s sole ownership in the event of his death, and he had given a copy of the will to George. George gave his thoughts to that subject for a minute. He was also aware that, in the will, his father had made generous provision from his own personal funds for George’s younger twin sisters.

George hadn’t actually met his sisters for years. In fact, Richard Lajambe had adopted the girls when he decided to move back to England, a move which Edward had wholeheartedly endorsed. The girls would have much better marital prospects in England, and their appearance, more and more resembling their mother, would no longer serve as a perpetual rebuke to the unkindness with which Edward had treated his Esmeralda. Now, with the payout from the estate, there would be generous dowries for them both as well.

Meanwhile, Braydon was still sitting in the captain’s cabin, and still hemming and hawing over the key point of the will. George decided to help him out. “Mr. Braydon, is there something you don’t want to tell me? Something, perhaps, to do with the future of the Treston business?”

Braydon looked suitably startled, and then laughed.

“Mr. Treston, you are just like your father – always a step ahead of me!”

George chuckled too. But then he said, “He’s been training me for this ever since I was born. My father made certain that I would know exactly what was expected of me. I also know my father’s ideas of protocol. But I am not my father. I would prefer that we address each other on a first-name basis, since so much of the success of this company rests in your hands. So please, for the future, call me George.”

“Silas, then.” And they shook hands on that. The remainder of the meeting went much more smoothly, now that the ice was broken.

Before Braydon had even left the ship, George had already made his first two business decisions. The first was that he was going to remain as captain of Egeria. As he got a grip on the business, he needed to be able to check back in with Silas at headquarters as often as possible, and only Egeria with her relatively short circular routes could help him do that. His second decision was that Carmelita and Egeria would both remain in port for ten extra days. George had a signal to that effect sent to Carmelita. The house where he and Kiru had lived during the docking of their ships had been purchased outright by his father, and then left to him in the will. That gave them again a quiet refuge during those busy days in Kingston.

The first night, Kiru spent several long hours holding an anguished George close in his arms as they lay in bed together. It wasn’t for sex. George badly needed to give vent to all the surging tides of emotion which he had been holding in all day, and just as badly he needed the comfort that he could only find in the arms of this one man. Kiru understood all of that, and he had already decided that whatever he could do to help George would be done freely and without holding back. They cuddled together, talking, listening, kissing, until sleep at last caught up with George as his tears abated.

Silas spent the next week and a half preparing letters to go out to all the shippers, producers, exporters, and others in the trade world whose business had been held up by this family crisis. The letters explained that Mr. George Treston, son of the late Mr. Edward Treston, had now taken his late father’s place as the owner and operator of Treston Shipping, and apologized for the unavoidable delays in forwarding goods during this family crisis.

George spent hours poring over documents, letters, financial information, getting a handle on the bigger picture of what could now fairly be called his company. He held many long discussions with Silas. He also had a meeting with a local solicitor, to draw up his own will. In it, he placed the entire ownership of the company into the hands of Kiru in the event that he should die. The solicitor hesitated, raising his eyebrows in a marked manner at this idea. Seeing that reaction, George offered to take his business elsewhere. The solicitor gave way, and the documents were duly drawn, signed, and witnessed by his clerk. Privately, though, the solicitor had his doubts that the will would stand if it were to be challenged in a court of law.

Each night when George returned home after his long day immersed in business, Kiru was there to take his mind off the issues and restore some balance in his life. Kiru teased him. “I went through all that work trying to be a great sailor and leader of my crew – just to end up as the stay-at-home wifey of the new owner, who’s almost young enough to be my son!”

They both laughed, but then Kiru drew George into his embrace and the laughter dissolved into sighs and moans of satisfaction. George was gradually realizing a great truth that many people never discover – that home isn’t so much a place as it is a state of mind, and when you are in a place that gives you that kind of calm, peace, breathing room, and comfort, you are home. For George, that all meant “Kiru.” It was only when they were together that he realized just how much he needed this partnership with this man to anchor his life. When he tried to explain it all to Kiru, he found that the right words weren’t there for him, but Kiru got the message all the same. “I understand you, George – and I feel just the same way. Now stop talking and give me your best shot again.”

George promptly rolled Kiru onto his back, lifting his massive thighs into the air. He dived into his man’s deep ass crack, spreading the cheeks apart and licking over the musty, man-smelling hole which waited there for his attention. Kiru emitted deep sighs of satisfaction. It always felt so amazing to him whenever George was the one eating him, and he understood why.

As for George, he never tired of working with lips and tongue, not just on Kiru’s ass or cock, but on any and every part of his body. On this night, he wanted to give Kiru the most incredible, thorough tongue bath possible, and he wanted it to last for as long as he could keep it going. He was more than ready to fuck this spectacular ass, but he wanted to give himself as much time as possible to anticipate it, to build up an equally spectacular load of his seed to fill Kiru’s hole. And that took time, but for George it was time well spent.

After he had massaged and licked and kissed every inch of Kiru’s body, Kiru finally got tired of waiting. “S’wounds, George, aren’t you ever going to push it inside me?”

George smiled. “Yes – but only when you’re good and ready.”

Kiru groaned in disappointment, and George chose that exact moment to plant his cock against the ass lips and force his way inside. The groan shifted tone into a loud, long-drawn “Aaaaahhhhh” as the shaft penetrated, spread, opened, and finally pushed completely inside. Kiru dropped his legs onto George’s shoulders and reached up, grasping George with his hands and pulling him down so they could caress and kiss each other as George thrust and pounded into him.

George certainly did pound him that night. He hammered his way inside Kiru like a pile driver. Kiru was tough, and immured to pain, but even he was finding this treatment a bit hard to take. He felt certain that George was working out some emotional burden which was expressing itself in violent physical activity, so he hung on and endured as George battered at his ass.

Finally, George’s powerhouse strokes got more irregular, his breathing grew harsh, and Kiru knew that the end was coming. He squeezed down hard with his muscles, grasping George’s dick in an ecstatic grip as George prepared to erupt into him. And then it came. George slammed in a series  of half a dozen of the most violent strokes yet, and then cried aloud as his cock contracted and spewed a torrent of juice inside his man. Kiru hung on as George kept jamming it repeatedly into him, hung on as he felt the contractions and knew that he was getting a load like none he had ever received before. Even the slave guard who had raped his teenaged ass the night he was taken captive hadn’t filled him up with so much sperm.

At last George quieted down, slowed to a halt, and slipped out of Kiru’s ass. A slow tidal wave of his seed oozed out of the ravaged hole and ran slowly down onto the bed sheets. Kiru emitted a small moan of pain – George had ripped him. After a few more moments of hugging and stroking, Kiru excused himself and got up out of the bed. Opening the drawer in the chest by the wall, he drew out a small bundle of cloth. Unwinding it, he drew out a couple of leaves from a plant which glistened with some thick liquid. Reaching back, he pushed the leaves up into his hole, holding them there as the hole closed up and drew them in.

“What was that?” George’s question was genuinely curious.

“Medicine. I learned it from an older slave when I was in the market in San Juan. It heals the body when it’s been torn, ripped, or cut.”

George looked surprised for a moment – and then realization. “Dear God in Heaven, Kiru, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Kiru walked back and lay down with him again. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Did you want me to stop you?”

“Well…”

“George, I didn’t stop you because I knew that you needed to get all the hurt and anger and fear out of your system. I let you keep going because you couldn’t do that without my help.” George shuddered in relief as Kiru’s arms came around him again. For a few horrible moments, he’d been afraid that Kiru would walk out on him. This fear, too, Kiru could detect. “I could never leave you, George. I love you, and you love me, and we’re in this together for life.”

Much later, as George finally fell asleep, Kiru remained awake, watching this love of his life breathing gently and evenly, relaxed, at peace, for the first time in weeks. His thoughts clearly emerged in his own mind. When I’m with you, George, I am at peace too.

All too soon, their two weeks of quiet time had come to an end. This time, the two captains walked side by side from the house to the landing where they hired a boat to take them out to their ships for their return to work.

Inevitably, there had been departures from the crews of each ship. Every time they anchored in Kingston for any length of time, there would be a couple of sailors who would take their pay packet and head ashore, never to be seen again. Roger and Eli, Kiru’s first mate, had filled the vacancies by promotions, hiring new apprentices in each ship to complete the crews.

As the two ships sailed in close formation down the channel and passed beyond South Key into the open ocean, George had one of his crewmen on board Egeria hoist a signal. Egeria to Carmelita: goodbye and good luck.

The return signal came quickly enough, but George had to take an extra moment deciphering it as the key word wasn’t a code word but was spelled out, letter by letter. At last he got it. Carmelita to Egeria: Thank you, boss. Same to you.

On the second full day out from Kingston, George was walking on the deck of Egeria in the sunshine, thinking thoughts of Kiru. He was remembering the scene early the previous morning when Kiru had mercilessly pounded his hole into gaping submission before they’d returned to their ships, pondering the question of how that scene might have appeared to an observer. Of course, that train of thought was causing a bit of swelling. As he walked and thought these thoughts, his eyes were drawn to the sight of Blaine, the newest apprentice, busily scrubbing down the decks around the main hatchway. Blaine was tall, and the scrubbing handle was not really long enough, forcing him to lean forward and bend down as he applied the working end to the planking.

Of course, what caught George’s eye was the lush curve of the young man’s butt, pushing out the material of his breeches in an enticing way. George found he was catching his breath at the sight. Blaine was already handsome enough in front, his skin the colour of milky coffee thanks to his mixed parentage, but this rear view was a real thing of beauty. Suddenly, George realized that the young apprentice had caught him staring and was flexing his buttocks, squeezing and releasing the muscles. It was obvious that he was asking for his captain’s attention.

One more memory of Kiru distracted George’s attention for a moment, and then he shifted his eyes back to Blaine. It would certainly be weeks and could be months before he saw Kiru again, but he had no intention of settling for the infrequent attentions of Roger during that time. Roger was good, no doubt about that, but would only give to another man. George liked giving too, and as he watched Blaine blatantly teasing him, he felt sure that he would like to give his newest apprentice a full-on welcome aboard his ship.

The chance came the same night, when George timed his departure from the deck to coincide with the moment when Blaine’s on-duty time ended, and he was heading below. It was a simple matter to arrive at the main hatchway at the same time, forcing Blaine to give way. At the bottom of the ladder, George waited for Blaine and then ordered him to follow. In moments, they were entering the captain’s cabin. Blaine stood respectfully to attention. George closed the gap between them, running his hands over the outline of Blaine’s body, and then working at undoing the buttons which would release the young apprentice’s breeches.

At this point, Blaine grew hesitant. “What’s wrong?” George asked.

“Uh, sir, the first mate had told me to report to the aft cargo hold.”

George grinned. “Not to worry. That can easily be mended.” He had Blaine stand behind the door while he opened it and bellowed, “Pass the word for the first mate.” It was a matter of a minute or so before a knock came. George opened the door, admitting Roger, and then closed it. “I trust you will forgive me for interrupting your quiet time,” George drawled out in an amused tone.

Roger took one quick look at the now-undressed Blaine and decided that he could tolerate the interruption. He and George proceeded to remove their clothes as quickly as possible, and then turned their full attention to the handsome apprentice.

Roger moved in first, grasping Blaine’s shoulders and pressing downwards. Blaine knew at once what this man wanted, and he dropped to his knees, opening his mouth to begin licking and kissing and sucking at Roger’s cock. George moved in beside Roger and stuck his cock forward alongside Roger’s. Blaine now had two pieces of tasty, prime man meat to absorb his attention. He worked back and forth between them, swallowing one and sucking on it for a minute, and then pulling off to give his attention to the other.

After a few minutes of this, both cocks were glistening with his saliva, so he turned his attention to the balls underneath them, washing those down and popping them into his mouth one by one to warm them up. By now, both Roger and George were moaning from Blaine’s exertions, and their dicks were leaking a steady stream of clear fluid. Blaine returned to the dick heads to lick up the tasty juice, swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing it. He loved the taste.

Roger was ready to go farther. When Blaine was working on George again, Roger reached down and planted his hands under Blaine’s armpits from behind, drawing the young man to his feet. As he pulled Blaine up, he stepped forward so his erect cock would slip neatly right into Blaine’s crack. Roger then proceeded to slide his meat up and down between Blaine’s firm round buns, letting the fleshy mounds stroke him. George now went to his knees and sucked on Blaine’s cock, which was also leaking plenty of juice. George too loved that flavour.

Roger dropped down in his turn and buried his face into Blaine’s shapely butt, licking and slurping at the crack and the hole while Blaine went off into a fury of moaning, making wordless noises of enjoyment. The two men between them were driving their young apprentice into a whirling world of ecstasy, entirely losing his conscious control and becoming solely a vehicle for unlimited sexual arousal and pleasure.

When they’d gotten him all the way into this detached and uncontrolled state, Roger stood up and placed his raging tool against Blaine’s hole, and then pushed forward. The hole, fully lubricated by Roger’s mouth and tongue, opened at once and Roger’s dick sank inside his tunnel. As he slid in, he felt the muscles around the opening go into convulsions. At the same moment, George had to pull off in surprise as the young fellow’s cock exploded into his mouth and down his throat with absolutely no warning. He grasped Blaine’s shaft as his tongue worked to lick up the hot cream, but it was a losing battle. Blaine just kept pumping more and more out. As soon as the stream slowed down, Roger began pumping in and out of his ass, and in mere seconds his cock exploded again. Blaine was so far caught up in his disjointed state that he simply couldn’t stop as he kept right on blasting off in one orgasm after another.

All that gripping around his shaft soon brought Roger up to the point of no return. He slammed hard and deep into Blaine’s ass five or six times and exploded inside the convulsing tunnel. Blaine kept wailing as his cock kept jumping up and down and shooting while he felt Roger cumming inside him. Only when Roger pulled out did Blaine’s endless orgasm finally slow to a halt. The young fellow was gasping for air after that nonstop chain of cum explosions.

Roger came over and whispered something to George, who was still wiping the lad’s cream off his face and licking it up from his hand. Then they switched places, with Roger taking station in front of Blaine’s quivering cock while George got behind him and entered him, sliding easily inside in the nicely loosened hole lubricated with Roger’s spit and sperm.

Blaine groaned again and immediately started flexing his muscles, wanting to feel George filling him up even more. George let out a loud “ohhh” as he felt that hole stroking and sucking on his cock, demanding his sperm. He began to pump the younger guy’s ass hard and fast, pounding deep inside him. George was in full rut now. He needed this, needed to mark and breed this boy just as Roger had done a few minutes earlier. For just a moment he had a vision of the two of them fucking and filling this sweet ass over and over throughout the voyage. But then, instinct took over and it was too late to think, too late to stop, too late to do anything before he blew out all his tension in this hot young man’s butt. He pumped harder, harder still, and then his cock exploded as he forced it all the way inside, pulsing out his seed into Blaine’s cute young body. Blaine moaned aloud as he felt George’s sperm mingling with Roger’s inside him.

At last, George softened and pulled out. Blaine had just finished cleaning all the semen and butt slime off Roger’s dick, and now turned around, obediently cleaning off George’s tool as well. At last he released it, his duty complete, and stood up. Both men kissed him, and then kissed each other. And George summed it all up. “This is going to be one spectacular voyage.” Roger nodded agreement. Blaine, more forthright, grinned as he said, “I certainly hope so, sir.” And they all laughed.

By the time George had made three more voyages in Egeria, with Roger as first mate and both Roger and Blaine as regular company, he had acquired a thorough grasp of all aspects of the business which he now found himself leading. He had also reached one truly momentous decision, all on his own. It was a reflection of the most basic differences between George and his late father. It was time indeed for George to put his own stamp on the family business, as all his predecessors had done in their turns. It was his great-grandfather, Josiah Treston, who had made the decision to shift the business from Bristol in England to the New World. Grandfather Ebenezer in turn had shifted the base of operations from Charles Town to Port Royal, changing the company forever into a regional trading business which maintained contacts with the old country. His father, Edward, had expanded the business by adding newer and bigger ships. Now it was George’s turn.

At last came the time when George was ready to explain his grand idea to Silas Braydon. The timing was dictated by the next occasion when both Carmelita and Egeria were in port at the same time. For this meeting he broke another long tradition by bringing Kiru along with him. As he explained to the startled Silas, “As we get more and more spread out over longer distances, it’s important that there is at least one person other than the two of us who is privy to the inner workings of the business. I am naming Kiru as my deputy in the running of this company, with full power to exercise my authority whenever I am absent, and subject to my review upon my return. I am trusting him to use this authority sparingly, and only as necessary. His innate good judgement is my guarantee.” Silas looked decidedly uneasy at this idea, but he agreed all the same.

George now proceeded to unwrap the major blockbuster which he had chosen to drop at this meeting. “I’ve also decided to withdraw Ernestine V from the West African trade. At the moment it is profitable, but there are more and more ships pursuing that business every year and the profits are not what they were. Also, there is a slowly rising tide of opinion against slavery on both sides of the ocean, and it’s only a question of time before the entire slave trade gets outlawed or stamped out. I would rather stay ahead of my competitors rather than running from behind to catch up with everyone else.”

Kiru felt a need to put his oar in, and his choice of words as he did so marked a momentous shift in itself. “Sir, what then do you plan to do with Ernestine V?”

George smiled. He had seen the flash of excitement and gratitude playing across Kiru’s handsome face as he made his big announcement. “For the moment, I plan to reassign Ernestine V to the Charles Town/Virginia/Boston triangle – we can certainly use both her speed and her capacity to good effect in that region. As well, her armament will give better protection against the pirates who are getting restive again in the Bahamas and up the coast.

“In the longer term, I would like to build a sister ship, similar in size, capacity, speed, and armament, and upgrade our service to England. The packet ships which are operating there have their hands full as it is, with their contracts to carry the mail and with passengers. We can carry our own freight to a much bigger extent than we do now, without diminishing their business in any way. I have no interest in competing for mail or passengers. I plan to focus instead on carrying sugar which is being produced more and more here for export to England. That’s a profitable cargo, and the profits will more than repay us for the extra expense of building and crewing one or more fast ships. For all of that, I will have to go to London and meet with the owners of the two main packet fleets, as well as establishing a line of investors.”

Silas spoke up. “These are interesting plans for the future, George. For the moment, though, Ernestine V will need a thorough refit before she can be reassigned.”

“Of course. We’ll keep Captain Blackstone on to supervise the refit. And we’ll give him the full pay he would normally receive while at sea. He’s too good a man to lose.” Again, Silas looked a trifle startled, but George knew his mind, and certainly wanted to be proactive in retaining all the good men he had inherited along with the business.”

Kiru spoke up again. “You’re very wise to do that, sir. Men as competent and as effective as Blackstone don’t grow on trees.”

Both Kiru and Silas had found that they were getting their eyes opened. George had grown a great deal these last months, and not just in years. His insight into the business in all its aspects impressed both of them. Silas in particular noted how George was much more forward-thinking and gave much more heed to long-term planning than his father had ever done.

That night, George couldn’t help commenting about how Kiru had formally addressed him as “sir”. Kiru replied, “George, my love, you have made yourself thoroughly the head of this company, put your hands on the rudder, and trimmed the sails to a new course which owes nothing to any of the work your father and grandfather did. As a captain in the line, it’s appropriate for me to address the owner and operator of the Treston company as ‘sir’. There’s no question – you are in charge and complete master of the situation. Silas knows that, and I know that.”

George smiled. “I did tell Silas that I wanted him to address me on a first-name basis. You should too. You are a fine captain, but you are also my second-in command and designated replacement in my absence.”

“Is that all?” Kiru’s face wore what could only be called a smirk. George laughed, drew him closer, and began kissing him again, reaching down to fondle Kiru’s enormous cock as he did so.

Over the next couple of years, the pattern rolled smoothly forward. In due time, George realized that the conditions were ripe for him to move his grand plan ahead. He began by offering the role of captain of Egeria to Roger, who was now more than ready for the responsibility. Roger had thanked George with one last impressive fucking, shooting two loads of his juice into the owner’s deep hole. Roger was overjoyed at the prospect of finally being able to ask for Alice’s hand in marriage, having now met the demands of her father.

George spent the last couple of months on shore, organizing everything to run smoothly in his absence which would last for six months at least. Kiru came back from an extended voyage about two weeks before George was going to leave on the packet service to London, and George promptly ordered that Carmelita remain in harbour for that time. Kiru didn’t object.

The final night came all too quickly. As they lay together in bed, Kiru kept his cock deep inside George while he lay on top of his man after having filled him with two big loads of his sperm. George wrapped his legs and arms around Kiru as they kissed nonstop. It wasn’t the first time they’d ever fallen asleep, still linked together, but this time they slept that way all the night through. George awoke in the morning to feel Kiru’s tool, hard and hot, still nestled snugly inside him.

But then it was time for him to go. The packet was sailing at noon, and there was no telling how long he might wait for another ship if he missed this one. One last lingering embrace and kiss at the door, and then George was walking down the street, setting his face and his steps towards a new adventure.

[daddybear54]

Chapter 5:  The Crowning Moment

 

George stirred slowly awake, conscious only of a distinct feeling of well-being. For the moment, he had forgotten where he had gone to sleep the night before. He had slept very deeply and peacefully, a thing which did not always happen when he was living ashore. Daylight was shining around the edges of the heavy curtains at the windows, but only a little, and he wanted to get up and look out – not just to see what manner of day it might be, but also to try to remember where he was and why. This certainly wasn’t his home in Jamaica, wherever else it might be.

He pushed aside the richly-embroidered quilted coverlet, and slid out of bed, padding over to the window in his stockinged feet. Prying the curtains aside, he noted first the sheer size of the glass panes in the window, proof positive that this was a truly wealthy home, and then gazed out at a sunlit vista of symmetrical formal gardens, centred around an elaborate fountain. It was all a far cry from his much more modest home down by the harbour on Port Royal Point in Kingston, and even farther removed from the low deck beams and sloping deck of the captain’s cabin on board Egeria.. This whole expedition to England, right from the outset, had turned into a huge eye-opener, in more ways than one.

Speaking of eye-openers, he swung back to the room behind him, to see that the bed covers had already been thrust aside all the way by his bedmate. Ah, yes, that was young Matthew, the aptly-titled Earl of Butcombe. He was lying face down on the bed now, his pert and firm buttocks rising out of the covers with a distinct air of invitation.

Memory returned in full force. George had travelled for months, making the long and tedious voyage from Jamaica to Portsmouth aboard the West India packet, to attend at the court of Queen Anne, and to make a personal but highly informal application for a letter of marque.

Such a letter of marque, once received, would license him to use his own vessel as a privateer or private ship of war and to prey on the commerce of England’s enemies. In the Caribbean, that could mean any of Spain, France, the Netherlands, or Portugal, according to the rapidly-shifting currents of diplomacy, dynastic marriages, and the terms of peace and war in the eighteenth century. In theory, the practice of issuing letters of marque by colonial governors had ended before George had been born in 1692. In practice, he had heard, the letters could still be had, but only by applying in person in London (and applying very much on the quiet), and only with some kind of sponsorship from the higher echelons of English society.

George had already approached the Duke of Bridgwater, an acquaintance of his late father, with a written request. A return letter from the Duke’s private secretary assured him that his request might possibly be granted, but only after he had appeared in London and paid his respects to the Queen and to the various other leading figures at the court. The Duke, the secretary had further informed him, would sponsor Treston to enter the court, and invited Treston to reside at his London town house during the weeks when the court convened at St. James Palace. In closing, the secretary had informed him (a trifle haughtily) that full court dress was essential and that he ought to arrive in London at least a month before the court assembled, to acquire the appropriate clothes before it was time to move into the Duke’s house. The whole tone of the letter reeked of privilege and of the belief among the English aristocracy that men like George were uncouth bumpkins from the outer fringes of the wild lands.

So George had sailed from Kingston in the spring of 1722, aboard one of the regular packet ships which carried mail, passengers, and small items of cargo between the islands and London. The entire plan became a trifle skewed during his voyage. Along its way, the West India packet had interrupted its leisurely progress to call in at Bermuda, and there received the sad news. The Queen had fallen ill again and was not expected to recover. When he arrived in England on August 3, he stepped ashore into a country deep in mourning, and learned that Queen Anne had in fact died, two days earlier, and the assembly of the court in September, following the Coronation, was now being planned to welcome the new King – a German prince from Hanover, who was the late Queen’s nearest relative of acceptably Protestant religion. George was advised that he really ought to remain for the ceremonial accession and crowning of the new King. He knew enough to take that as an order, however polite the language.

He'd emitted a monumental sigh on hearing this “advice,” but then reflected that it was a good thing that his successful business, and the inheritance from his father, had suitably padded up his strong box. It also occurred to him that this visit to England would be a suitable occasion to enquire into setting up one or more secure bank accounts. However, for the moment, he was forced to write letters, explaining all these details to the company’s acting head, Kiru, and the manager, Silas, back in Kingston. With any luck, the letters might reach Kingston before George himself could expect to return. Maybe.

Privately, George was more than a little distressed to be separated for so long from Kiru, but the prospect was looking a little less bleak this morning than it had the day before.

In London, George had stayed in a recommended hotel, the Golden Cross, while he acquired the necessary court clothes, as well as more sombre dark suits for the period of public mourning. Then he went on the assigned date to the Duke’s London town residence, Harptree House. There, he showed his letter of invitation, and after his chest and bags  were taken in charge by a footman, he was met by an undersecretary who informed him in a snotty tone of voice that he must address the Duke, and the Duke’s private secretary (an Earl no less), as “my lord.” He was then escorted to the private secretary’s office.

“Mr. George Treston, my lord,” the undersecretary pompously announced.

“Thank you, Pensett,” the young man by the desk said loftily. The undersecretary bowed out, closing the door as he went. Pensett’s departure from the room was definitely an example of “withdrawing” – far too stately to be called simply “leaving.”

 “Good morning, Mr…. ah… Treston.”

“My Lord.” George offered his most stylish bow.

“Oh, for God’s sake, let’s drop all that tedious court protocol now.” George’s head jerked up in comical surprise, and the young man facing him laughed heartily. “My name’s Matthew, pleased to meet you.”

George studied the handsome face, the trim figure, the snug breeches, and then noticed that Matthew was studying him as well, and in the same way. He didn’t mind a bit.

“You probably weren’t expecting a titled Earl to talk to a lowly commoner this way. I was just granted the title last month and I’m still not used to it. You know, having people bowing and scraping to me. Well, let’s get down to business.”

Matthew indicated a chair for George, and then perched on the edge of the desk in front of George while describing the schedule for the remainder of the day. Matthew thrust aside the tails of his lavish brocaded coat, allowing the now-noticeable bulge in his breeches to press forward.

“You’re to see the Duke at half past four, after he takes tea with the Duchess. Refreshments will be served in the reception room at 6:00, and the procession will enter the dining room at half past seven. You will be partnered with Lady Lydia Galbraith, the lady in waiting to the Duchess.” As Matthew said this, he was discreetly (or not so discreetly) adjusting the lump in his breeches. “You’re expected to make conversation with her, and with the gentlemen on either side of her and the ladies on either side of you.” His droll tone as he rolled his eyes conveyed the tedium of conversing with ladies as opposed to engaging in much more interesting activities with the men. “Once the Duchess and the ladies retire from the dinner table at the end of the meal, and port and cigars are handed around, the formal part of the evening is ended.”

George ventured a guess. “And the informal part can begin then, yes?” Matthew grinned and winked in agreement.

His interview with the Duke consisted of a mixture of tediously detailed instructions in court protocol along with a whole series of intriguing looks and gestures. George had no trouble deducing that the Duke of Bridgwater found him just as interesting as his secretary had done, and for the same reason. George could then connect the dots and understand just how such a plainly man-loving young man as Matthew had used the Duke as a means of working his way into the heart of the aristocratic inner circle.

Several hours later, the port and cigars duly distributed, George had risen from the dinner table and taken his leave, cued by a discreet smile and tilt of the head from Matthew. He had exited the dining room through the same door by which he had seen other men coming and going, guessing it would lead to the privies. As he walked that way, a panel in the wall suddenly opened beside him. A hand reached out, seized his arm, and dragged him quickly in, and the panel silently swung shut before he could even utter.

“What the devil…?” A lantern swung up, illuminating the grinning face of Matthew.

“I thought,” Matthew drawled out in an amused tone, “that this was what you wanted.” With that, he dropped his hand and caressed the bulge in George’s breeches, feeling it hardening under his hand. “Oh, good, a nice big one.” George moaned quietly as Matthew worked on him. He tried to reach for Matthew to return the favour, but Matthew waved him off. “Not yet. Come this way.” As they walked through the twisting passageway and up two flights of stairs, Matthew was quietly explaining to him. “You can’t run a house like this without these hidden passages inside the walls. They let you get from place to place without everyone seeing you.”

“Aren’t you worried about running into some of the servants in here?”

“Not now. The private maids and valets are all waiting in the rooms of their respective gentlemen and ladies, while everyone else is downstairs, attending on the party. I’d be more worried about running into the Duke or the Duchess and having to ‘not notice’ whoever they had with them.” With that, he chuckled as he thrust open a door. “Here we are.” They entered a sitting room, where a sleepy-eyed valet snapped to attention. “It’s all right, I shall attend to myself tonight, Davies. You may go to bed.”

“Very well, my lord.” The valet bowed out, with a knowing smile on his face.

They walked through into a bedroom. Not palatial, but a decent size. Candles were burning on the lampstand on the floor, the curtains were drawn, and the handle of a warming pan could be seen sticking out from under the covers. Matthew put down the lantern he was carrying and at once began to undo his clothes. Hangers awaited in the open clothes press. He began to hang his breeches and coat, then turned to George and said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the show.” As George said that, Matthew was pulling up his silken shirt, revealing a nicely-toned body. His drawers dropped next, giving George a prize view of his rigid cock, more than ready for action, and his smooth rounded buttocks.

With that, George shifted into high gear, as rapidly dispensing with his clothes and hanging them neatly aside, then stripping off the under layers. While he finished, Matthew was removing the warming pan and turning down the coverlet.

“I was right. A good, big one. Bring that thing over here and let’s get in together.”

As George scrambled into the bed, Matthew extinguished the candles, one by one, and then dropped into bed next to him, pulling the covers up as he did so. George pushed up against Matthew’s body, feeling their hard cocks dueling in between them like swordsmen. He reached down to grasp Matthew’s shapely erection and found that the head was already wet with juice.

“My, my, aren’t you all fired up and ready to explode.”

Matthew chuckled. “Not exactly. I just get wet right away and keep on leaking for quite a while.”

With that, he pushed his mouth onto George’s lips, prying them open with his tongue. At the same time, his own hand wrapped itself around George’s pole and began to squeeze and stroke it. In no time, two sizable erections were both ready and more than ready. But George wasn’t quite certain of what to do next.

It wasn’t that he lacked experience – far from it. But this was another matter altogether. What was the correct protocol when you were bedding down with a member of the titled aristocracy? Normally, it would be a case of bow, scrape, and do whatever was asked. The problem was that the Earl of Butcombe was acting like he felt it was much more blessed to receive than to give, as he turned over and rubbed his firm round ass against George’s rampant (and now leaking) tool.

George finally shrugged and let instinct dictate his actions, reflecting that, if he was wrong, he could always go back to Jamaica empty-handed – and wouldn’t mind doing so as long as he succeeded in piercing and filling this beautiful aristocratic ass at least once. With that thought, he dug his fingers into Matthew’s crack and found, to his delight, that the man was not only clean but nicely moistened with some scented lotion.

He worked the tip of his rampant cock into place and began to push. It was plain at once that he had made the right choice. The Earl was certainly no shrinking violet. His hole opened right up with no delay, allowing George to slide inside him and keep right on sliding to the bottom of the well. There he lay, stretched out along the back of a titled Earl, no less, with his rampant cock buried deeply inside the Earl’s tight hole.

But then he felt that hole chewing in a demanding sort of way on his cock and knew that it was time for him to stand and deliver, so to speak. George began sliding his erect tool out of the warm hole which caressed it, and then back in.

Matthew, Earl of Butcombe, moaned in ecstasy as George Treston drove deep into his body, over and over. But then George cried aloud and, with a violent contraction of his loins, spewed a massive load of sperm inside the Earl’s titled butthole. The three months away from Kiru and the three weeks without the ministrations of Jeremiah, the talented cabin boy on the West India packet, had done their dirty work.

Matthew cried, “Oh, no!” His tone was disappointed. But George hastened to reassure him by resuming the pace of his fucking and slowly speeding it up. Before long, his hips were slapping loudly against Matthew’s firm round ass on every stroke. Now that he’d spurted once, George was in a fair way to keep going for quite a while before his next explosion.

And Matthew was loving every minute of it. His loud moans and the twisting motions of his body made it plain that he was a natural-born bottom, and indeed that he had an uncommonly sensitive ass. After a few minutes of this treatment, his hole seized right up on George’s rampant cock as he convulsed in his first orgasm. George kept right on fucking, and discovered to his delight that Matthew, like his own talented apprentice Blaine, was one of those rare men who could keep right on having orgasms in a chain, one after another, on and on until he was practically screaming for relief. And because his hole kept right on grabbing at George, on and on, it didn’t take too much longer for George to bestow a second load into that talented ass.

George’s legs were getting a bit sore. He decided to force a change of position, hoping that the Earl wouldn’t be too upset at him for acting in such an inappropriate and forward manner. He pulled out, climbed up on the bed, and lay down beside Matthew, then pulled Matthew up onto his side so that George’s cock was in position to slide into him from behind.

Thus positioned, George resumed his energetic fucking of the Earl, ramming deep and hard inside and pulling all the way out, again and again. Matthew squealed each time he slammed his cock deep down into that hole, and then exhaled loudly as he pulled out. It was more than he could stand, and his chain of orgasms finally died away, but only after he’d made a thoroughgoing mess of the bedcovers. George speeded up, sensing that the evening was about to come to an end, and in less than a minute his, too, managed to reach a third climax.

He pulled out at last, rolling onto his back with a gasp of exhaustion. It had been the biggest workout he’d given himself in quite a while. Beside him, Matthew’s slow, gentle, quiet breathing settled down to a steady rhythm as sleep claimed him. George let himself go and fell asleep right after. During the night, he woke up to use the chamber pot, then pulled the eiderdown over both of them and fell asleep again.

Now he stood by the window, enjoying the view of the gardens in the morning sunlight alternately with the view of the enticing body lying on the bed. Then the door opened, and Davies, the valet, entered with two cups of tea on a tray. He smiled at the sight of George’s naked body by the window and put the tea down on the table – then proceeded to rouse his master. Once Matthew had recovered consciousness, Davies handed him a note. He read it once, then again, and then dismissed Davies and sprang out of bed.

“Good morning, my lord,” George said, chuckling.

Matthew laughed for a moment, then turned serious. “I need to move fast. The Duke wants to see me in an hour. I’m sorry, but I will have to ask you to wait until I’ve prepared and gone.”

“I have all day, as far as I know.”

Matthew picked up and rang the hand bell. Davies entered again.

“Davies, bring hot water and lay out my fresh clothes. Then, go to the kitchen and make up a breakfast tray for Mr. Treston. After he’s eaten, you can help him to wash and dress, and then show him the way to his room through the passages.”

“Yes, my lord.”

After Matthew had washed, dressed, and gone, Davies came back again with a breakfast tray, and another note, this one for George. He opened it and read:

 

Kindly present yourself in the Amber Drawing Room

At Four O’Clock this afternoon

To take Tea with the Duke and Duchess of Bridgwater.

 

After he’d enjoyed his breakfast, and been shown to his room, he pondered what he would do to occupy himself between ten o’clock and tea time. As he was mulling that question over, there came a knock at the door – the main door, the entrance from the main hall. He got up and opened the door, revealing a strange young man in servant uniform.

“Yes?”

“My name is Herne, sir. I am assigned to take care of you and attend to your needs during your stay here at Harptree House. To begin with, I have been told to show you the way to your own room.”

“Thank you, Herne. Let’s go there first.”

It was a brief walk along the hall and around a corner until they came to a pleasant room which faced out on the courtyard in the middle of the house. George’s bag and sea chest were already there, placed next to the clothes press and the chest of drawers.

“I can tend to unpacking your clothes at the first opportunity when you are occupied elsewhere,” Herne said in a discreet voice.

“If you don’t mind, Herne, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Of course, sir.”

“First of all, since I’m invited to tea this afternoon, which way do I go to find the Amber Drawing Room?”

“It’s downstairs, sir. I will show you.”

“Thank you. And second, since it’s going to be a while until tea, where can I go to get a light meal between now and tea time?”

Herne smiled. “If you wish to go downstairs, there is a buffet laid out in the private dining room between twelve o’clock and half past one. Or, it you prefer, I will be at your service to bring what you wish to your room.”

“I should prefer to go down, I think. And finally: where do I go to head outside for a walk in the gardens?”

“I will show you that as well, sir. If you need nothing more here…?”

“Not at this time, thank you.”

“Then we may as well go down now, and I will show you what you wish to know.”

Nothing there but respectful attention, George thought. No such subtle signals as he’d gotten from Matthew. Nor was there any sign of the slightly insolent smirk he’d observed on Davies’ face. While Herne might not be on the “available” list, it was plain to George already that, no matter who did what, the servants would immediately know all about it.

He followed Herne along the hall, and around the corner to the sweeping main staircase, fitted like a frame around a cascading crystal chandelier. They descended to the main floor, and Herne began pointing things out to him. “The Card Room, sir. The Garden Room. This is the Amber Drawing Room.” He proceeded a few steps down the hall and then indicated an open double door on the other side. “The Private Dining Room. As you can see, sir, the tables are already laid out for the luncheon buffet.” At this point, he doubled back and walked past the main stairs in the opposite direction, then pointed out a short hallway where several steps led down to a double French door. “The exit to the gardens, sir.”

“Thank you, Herne. I think that covers all I need to know for now. No, wait, one last thing. How do I call you when I need you?”

“In your own room, sir, simply ring the bell. Here in the public rooms, you can ask the butler or one of the footmen to locate me.”

“Thank you, Herne. That is all for now.”

George studied Herne as he walked away. The man carried himself very well, and his uniform fitted him very neatly, allowing George a good guess at what lay underneath. It was a pity that he hadn’t given away any clues. Ah, well, time enough for that.

At four o’clock he was introduced into the Amber Drawing Room by a footman. A little to his surprise, there were no other guests than himself. Conversation was stilted at first but soon warmed up. The Duke’s normal irascible tone was considerably sweetened by his wife’s presence, while her low but melodious voice was pleasant to the ear. They asked him many questions about life in Jamaica, and he in turn asked about London, and about the ducal manor in Bridgwater, three days’ journey to the west. But George couldn’t rid himself of the impression that, throughout this congenial chat, both the Duke and the Duchess were trying to undress him with their eyes.

Later that night, after another and only slightly less formal and boring dinner, George was relaxing in his room. Herne was giving him a foot rub after prying his too-tight formal shoes loose from his feet. Both of them pricked up their ears at the sound of a quiet knock, or was it a scratch? It came from the door to the inner passageways. Herne went over and opened the door, disclosing a young woman.

“Excuse me, Mr. Treston, sir,” and here she dropped a most beautiful curtsey, “but her Grace the Duchess would like to have a word with you. In private, if you please, sir.” The last words were unmistakably directed at Herne.

House shoes on in place of evening shoes, George followed her through the passages until they came out in the private sitting room of the Duchess’ suite. She curtseyed again, and then withdrew.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Treston.”

“My lady.” George bowed to her.

“Oh, do let us dispense with that tedious courtly protocol. I asked you to come here because I heard that you spent last night with Matthew.” George’s embarrassed grin gave her the answer she expected. “I heard from Anna that you gave him quite a wild ride.”

“Yes, I did.”

“And I wanted to take a turn in the saddle myself.”

“Well, Ma’am, I don’t normally give lessons to ladies.”

“I expected that to be your answer. But are you sure…” and here she reached up and removed the towering, curly wig, “that I am a lady?” George, bereft of words, gaped at the sight. Shorn of the masses of curls, the Duchess was unmistakably a man. Holding the wig in one hand, he walked over to the table and rang for the maid. Anna returned to the room, taking the wig, and escorting him into the next room, signalling to George to come with them. He followed, dazed -- but also intrigued.

The evening became even more intriguing as the Duchess (as George supposed he should still be considered) calmly proceeded to undress Anna, the maid, who now also was revealed to be an attractive young man. As they disrobed, they took turns helping each other to wipe off their elaborate feminine make-up. George had also begun to undress now, and Anna now took a moment to show him a special cupboard for the guest clothing.

Soon the three of them were standing, naked, checking each other out. They made an interesting mixed trio: one slender young lad, one man in his twenties, and one older man heading towards middle age, but still well worth anyone’s time. Their cocks were arranged in size in the same order as their ages, with the largest cock of the lot belonging to the Duchess. However, if George was expected to be scared or intimidated, his “hostess” was due for a disappointment. The man who could regularly take everything Kiru had to give him would never be intimidated by mere size, no matter how impressive.

In no time, George was on his knees, sucking on that generous slab of meat while the young fellow lay on the floor in front of him, giving his own cock a treatment. Act Two saw the three of them up on the sizable bed, with the “Duchess” eating George’s ass while he in turn ate the ass of “Anna”. Once both of them were thoroughly loosened up, the show proceeded to the grand finale, as George entered the boy’s ass while the “Duchess” entered his. He’d never experienced such a sensation before, fucking and getting fucked all at the same time, and it aroused him mightily. In the end, after an hour of exhaustive activity, the guest of honour had cum three times inside the maid, no less, while the hostess had bred him twice. Not to be outdone, “Anna” had spewed two loads all over the bedcovers.

Anna was also the first to recover. In commendably quick time, he had slipped back into his maid’s dress and wig, done a rapid make-up job, and was once again the demure servant to the life. Anna curtseyed to them both and withdrew, after asking the Duchess what time she would like coffee and asking George if he had any instructions for Herne. The Duchess remained, cuddling on the  bed with a bemused but satisfied George.

“Well, Mr. Treston, I imagine you have a few questions you would like answered. And please don’t fuss me with any protocol. It’s so out of place at this hour and in this state of undress.”

They both laughed before George came out with the foremost question in his mind. “Are all the ‘women’ in this house men in women’s clothes and wigs?”

“Not all, but many. And some of the servants who appear to be men are actually women. We planned it that way when we decided to get married.” George shook his head, dazed, as she went on. “I was an actor when Robert met me. There were a few of us who dressed as women for parody shows which we did in private homes. He was a guest at one of these parties, and he guessed almost at once that I was actually a man. After we’d spent some time together, we made a match of it, and we brought along a number of my theatre friends as servants and members of the household. Matthew was one of them.

“It takes a great deal of money to keep everyone happy, of course, but Robert has made some astute and profitable speculations in London real estate, while I had already had a successful career at clipping the bank accounts of wide-eyed, wealthy young men who couldn’t resist a big cannon. So all of the household staff are very well paid, certainly better than if they were employed in the Royal Household.”

Their conversation continued along those lines for a while. In time, George got up, dressed, kissed the Duchess good night and wished him/her sweet dreams, which made both of them laugh again. Back in his room, he found Herne waiting, stolid and stone-faced as ever. Herne assisted him to prepare for bed, and then disappeared with a polite but meaningless “Good night.” And George lay awake for some time, pondering everything he had learned.

The next evening he had to disappoint Matthew, who had been hoping for another night of fun and games. “I’m sorry, your Lordship, but I’m all worn out after the last two nights.”

“Rumour has it that, when you’re at home, you’re good for every night.” George laughed at that, but his laugh soon turned sad and serious. Having hot sex on tap any day and every day was all very well, but there was no substitute for time spent with the man he loved. Matthew quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. We all heard from a business associate of the Duke about your legendary love affair, and I should have known that you’d be missing him. Come on, let’s just cuddle up and you can tell me about him.”

They proceeded to do just that, and George was definitely relieved by having a chance to talk about some real part of his life, in this bizarre nest of pretences and disguises and false fronts. Matthew held him close and stroked him gently as he talked, and that simple gesture of caring went a long way too. In the end, they fell asleep together like that, with Matthew holding George close.

Life continued on for the next month at Harptree House, even as the preparations for the coronation and the court assembly went forward. George fucked repeatedly, or got fucked by, the Duke, the Duchess, the Earl, Anna (whose real name was Leonard), Pensett (who became far less pompous and officious after George bred him), Davies, and others.

When the time came for the Coronation, the Duke had numerous official engagements, most important of them being the Accession Council. He and the Duchess, and the Earl with them, had to attend a number of high-level parties (“mind-numbing boredom,” as the Duchess complained to George later at night after one of them). For the Coronation itself, they even wangled a seat for George at the very back of Westminster Abbey, no mean achievement when eighty percent of the Abbey’s capacity was taken up by people required to attend by reason of protocol.

The big moment George was preparing for came a week and a half later, when the Court officially assembled. Herne had dressed him to perfection in his court clothes, ensuring that his curled formal wig was exactly adjusted on his head. Lady Lydia had taken him in hand at the palace, leading him through the echelons of under-under-secretaries and sub-sub-officials. So well had his hosts trained him that he felt not the slightest quiver of nerves as his name was announced by the usher. He advanced, making the three ceremonial bows, and then bent to kiss the ring on the King’s hand. He even managed to withdraw backwards and over to the side without tripping over his own feet.

There were still a string of formal balls to be gotten through, but the Harptree dancing master had ensured that he knew all the steps and wouldn’t disgrace himself or his hosts. However, with the Coronation and the Court Assembly out of the way, the most nerve-wracking parts were done. All that remained to be done now was to wait for an appointment with the King’s personal advisor for the colonies, where he might receive the hoped-for letter of marque.

Another two weeks elapsed after the Coronation and the Court Assembly had happened, and the first three formal balls had passed, before George got the notice he’d been awaiting. Three mornings afterward, he presented himself and his letter of sponsorship from the Duke at the offices of Sir Vincent Hilperton, the personal advisor. After a brief and apparently pointless conversation, Sir Vincent thanked him for coming in the sort of bored, official tones which too plainly added the unspoken words, “and don’t stumble on the way out.” However, as George retreated into the antechamber, he was intercepted by a secretary who handed him a large envelope which contained the long-awaited letter.

The Duke had already admonished him that the less people knew about his mission the better, so he settled for quietly informing the Duke that he had received the thing which he sought. From the lack of response on the Duke’s face, George deduced (correctly as it happened) that his host had known the outcome for some time, if not since before George even arrived in London. But he took it philosophically, understanding better than many older men that the hoops must all be jumped through in the correct order.

That being the case, it was time for George to prepare for the long voyage home. He purchased another trunk to hold all his London finery from a leading maker. He found a date and time for a westbound ship which would take him across the ocean to Antigua. From there, he could readily get a berth on a ship heading for Jamaica – perhaps even one of his own ships, such as Euphemia, which called at Antigua from time to time.

He worked in reverse order through his multiple partners at Harptree House, spending time or even full nights with each of them in turn. Last on the list was Matthew, the Earl of Butcombe, and here yet again George was invited, or expected, to spend a whole night. He gave himself a night off before his final night with Matthew, knowing that Matthew would expect him to plant at least two good-sized loads inside his firm round ass, and perhaps even more. The truth was that, ever since the night when Matthew had invited George to confide in him, the two had become good friends as much as bed partners.

As ever, George had no trouble at all in rising to the occasion, giving Matthew a rousing fuck at bedtime, and cumming inside him twice. Then, in the morning, he continued in a gentler vein, sliding his way into Matthew’s warm, wet, welcoming hole to awaken him, and then pumping him slowly and gently until the floodgates opened and he poured a third load inside the Earl.

Afterwards, as they relaxed while still joined together, Matthew sighed. “Dammit, George, I am really going to miss you when you’re gone. Nobody, and I mean nobody in this house fucks nearly as energetically or imaginatively as you do.”

“Nobody? Really?” George had certainly enjoyed the variety offered to him as a guest.

“There’s only one man here who comes even close to you.”

“Who is that?”

“Herne.” 

“Herne???” The shock in George’s voice matched the comically wide eyes and mouth.

Matthew couldn’t help laughing at him. “What, you didn’t know? Well, no, that’s obvious that you didn’t know. I’m surprised.”

“Herne never gave any indication that he was interested at all.”

Matthew chuckled. “Well, he is, but in a different way. If you’d made a move in that direction, you would have found  yourself escorted to the cellars and fastened down somewhere while he teased you, tickled you, tormented you, and finally turned you over so he could give you the works. I love getting myself filled up, but even so I can only take the full Herne treatment a few times every year. It takes a while to recover, and for the marks to die away, so I have to do it when I have no business appointments to worry about for the next week or so.”

George shook his head, bemused. His main thought was that he was glad he hadn’t made a move in that direction any time during the week of the Coronation.

The next day, Herne packed all of George’s belongings neatly away, certainly far more neatly than George could have done. George spent the day making final rounds in public view, tipping the various servants and enjoying a final round of tea, dinner, and conversation with the Duke and the Duchess. They, too, had enjoyed his presence as a guest, and not just in bed. As the Duke put it, in his normally irascible voice, “You’re a breath of fresh air among all the stuffed shirts I have to put up with.”

The next morning, a carriage came to the front door to convey George to the docks where he would board the packet for the Atlantic voyage. His trunks and bags had been sent ahead over night and were in place in the hold and in the cabin. The ship’s captain showed great courtesy in taking him around to see where all his possessions were stowed. He knew that George owned a fleet of ships in the Caribbean, and wanted to be memorable, in case he ever wanted a change of career from the tedium of long Atlantic voyages.

It was a long voyage, and it was tedious, but George at least managed the lucky break of finding a ship two days after he landed in Antigua which would call at Kingston on the way to the Caymans and Belize. That last leg of the trip passed off quickly enough, and George found himself and his belongings being landed on the new pier. And there was his humble house – humble, yes, but it certainly looked homelike to him after so many months divided between strange ships and stranger palaces.

He hired a young man to load his things onto his donkey cart and convey them to this house and gave the lad a generous tip on delivery. Then he could finally relax. He had the house to himself, but he had expected that, since Carmelita wasn’t in the harbour. The odds had been not very good in any case that Kiru would happen to have been at the home base.

He settled into a chair in the sitting room, quietly pondering everything he had seen and heard, and all he had learned, during his adventures. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, there came a knock at the door. Not a polite knock, Not the quiet, gentle scratch on the door employed by the servants at Harptree House. This was a peremptory knock, a commanding knock, even an urgent knock. George sighed and pulled himself to his feet.

He opened the door to Silas Braydon, accompanied by a younger man. George didn’t know him by name, but his face was vaguely familiar. It was Silas, though, who opened the conversation in hesitant tones as soon as they were inside.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, George. I knew you’d be resting after your long voyage, but I have very serious news to share.”

“Well?”

“And you must prepare yourself for a terrible shock.”

“All right, Silas, come on, out with it.”

Silas still hesitated for a moment, but he knew that his time was up. “I’m so sorry, George, but here it is: Kiru is dead.”

[drew4fun]

This is an Awesome adventure to read dasdybear54, Thank you for sharing you mind and your writing skills with us!

Drew