Sexy Sailors

by Neil Plakcy

  The Second Star rolled and pitched in their wake, and Eddie and I looked like cartoon drunks as we moved around the cabin and the decks. North of St. Augustine the water was dead calm, and for miles sometimes we were the only thing moving. Eddie made us sandwiches in the galley and brought them up to the Portuguese bridge.

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he said, between bites. “I’m not some kind of slut. I just…being trapped made me do stupid things. I’m trying not to do that kind of thing anymore.”

  “Yesterday,” I said. “Was that a stupid thing?”

  He shook his head. “Not for me. That was the smartest thing I’ve done in a long time.”

  I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Me, too.”

  That night I blew up an air mattress and put it up on the bow. We were anchored just offshore and there were no other boats around. Eddie and I took our mojitos up there, stripped down, and after we finished toasting the gorgeous sunset, we made love out there in the open air. It was something I’d always wanted to do but never had the right combination of guy, gear and opportunity.

  We were like a couple of kids, rolling around on each other, tickling and biting and laughing. I got to see what it felt like to have Eddie’s chubby dick up my ass as I posed doggie-style on the mattress and he fucked me with long, sure strokes. The heat lightning lit up the sky in coruscating flashes, and it seemed like every time those bolts arced through the sky, Eddie hit yet another tender spot and sent similar reverberations through my body.

  For the next couple of days, everything around us was flat. The low-lying marshes of northern Florida stretched out from the waterway in all directions, acres of green reeds that swayed gently as the water around them rippled and eddied in the wakes of passing boats. The sky was a silver gray the color of burnished aluminum.

  We crossed into Georgia just after lunch, though only the charts told us so. I wondered what would happen to Eddie and me when the trip was over. Would I say good-bye to him at the airport, as I’d done so many times with other crew members? Or was there something between us that would last? I did my best to put those thoughts away and just enjoy the time we spent together.

  On our last day, we left St. Simon’s Island about an hour after sunrise, en route to Hilton Head. We were going to spend one last night on the boat and catch a flight from Savannah back to Fort Lauderdale the next morning.

  We rounded a point, and suddenly there were dozens of seagulls trailing in our wake. Black-faced laughing gulls with white bodies and gray wings, and common gulls with white bodies and wings that were white close in and shaded out to a deep gray by their tips. They had little black beaks like the noses on miniature dogs.

  We came into a sound, and the spray turned saltier. Most of the gulls followed a fishing boat out to sea, and Eddie went below. A pair of dolphins surfaced off the port bow, but disappeared before I could call him.

  We passed a group of old shacks with ratty docks, all clustered together on a couple of hummocks of dry land. I was staring at a cemetery on Jekyll Island, noting the random pattern of azaleas in full bloom among the headstones, when I felt raindrops.

  As the water intensified, Eddie came up to the Portuguese bridge to join me, and we passed a row of white mansions with round columns and formal porches facing the waterway. Live oaks hung with Spanish moss led down to little gazebos and docks at the water’s edge. The rain was light and erratic for a while, and for nearly half an hour we saw distant lightning crackling twice as large as life. Low rumbles of thunder crashed across the marshes.

  I checked the chart. We were about a mile south of a bascule bridge, and I radioed ahead a request for it to open, slowing the engines to a crawl so we wouldn’t waste too much time waiting for it.

  “Phil,” Eddie said as I hung the radio mike up on its hook.

  “Yeah?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  We caught up to a tall sailboat that had already radioed for the bridge to open, and we scooted in behind it. On either side I saw the traffic backed up, people coming and going from the beach. I’d be one of those car-bound people again soon.

  As we headed north, I looked back and saw both sides of the bridge lowering behind us. I tried not to see that as some kind of omen.

  As we got closer to Hilton Head, young guys in fast cruisers with big engines darted back and forth in front of us in their hurry to return to port. They were followed by middle-aged good old boys and their wives and friends in pontoon boats, some with canopies and some without, all with coolers and six-packs and pink skin rosy from the sun and drink. Families in Bayliners out for a Sunday spin waved at teenaged boys in johnboats.

  The rain began to fall in big splattery drops that beat down in a rhythmic pattern on the deck around us. We were only an hour out of Hilton Head and it seemed silly to stop. We were going slowly, and the visibility was still strong. By the time we were thoroughly drenched, flecks of sunlight began to hit the water and the rain let up. It was warm, and being wet felt good.

  We entered the broad channel that led to Hilton Head and the sun came out. We checked in at the marina where they expected us, and we went through all the rigmarole of tying up ropes, laying out fenders and getting the boat situated. “What do we do now?” Eddie asked, when the final Styrofoam tube was in place.

  “Clean up,” I said. “Part of the deal is to leave the boat spick-and-span for the owners. Have to erase all the traces we were here.”

  “No pecker trails on the sheets,” Eddie said.

  “We’ll wash those tomorrow morning,” I said. “There’s a laundry up at the marina office. And the owner left me a list of supplies to stock.”

  “Let’s get started, then,” Eddie said.

  We worked in companionable silence for a couple of hours, and then Eddie went below to take a nap and I mixed myself a mojito with the last of the fresh mint and went up to the flying bridge. I finished my drink and thought about going below for another, when Eddie climbed up to join me.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Watching the heat lightning.” I pointed to the sky, which lit up with a few obliging flashes. “There are storms far away from us—so far that we can’t hear the thunder. But on summer nights something in the heat or the humidity diffuses the lightning and reforms it.”

  He nodded. “We’ve both been through a few storms.” A brilliant flash off to his left illuminated his strong features for a second, glinting off the pendant around his neck.

  “I can’t change who I am at this point in my life,” I said. “I love boats, and being out on the water. A handsome guy in my bed. A little adventure now and then.”

  “Sounds like a good combination.”

  “I have another transport on the books,” I said. “Leaving in two weeks, Miami to Key West. Not as nice a boat as this one, but it’ll be some fun. You think you’d like to join me?”

  I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Eddie said, “You bet,” and I let it out. Then we went below, to enjoy the spacious bed in the owner’s cabin one last time.

  RED ALERT: WEAPONS OF MASS ERECTION

  Logan Zachary

  The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming.”

  “Whoa, Paul Revere, what are you talking about?” I said into my cell phone after Billy Harris’s excitement almost blew out my eardrum.

  “The ship from Russia is here in the Duluth harbor, and the Russian sailors will be staying the night at Canal Park.”

  “And this affects me how?” I stood up and looked out my picture window with the view of Lake Superior and the lift bridge.

  “They’ll eat at Grandma’s, probably head up to the Duluth Family Sauna, and then head back to their rooms to drink vodka and…”

  “How do we fit in?” I saw the huge freighter floating just offshore.

  “And we’ll drink with them in their hotel room and then let them empty their sailor balls into us. Being at sea for such a long tim
e, they’ll want a hot ass to tap.”

  “Won’t they want women?” I ran my hand through my blond curls and closed my eyes. What did he want with me now?

  “Not all of them like women, and those are the hot, hairy, uncut ones we want.”

  “Aren’t you working tonight?”

  “Room service will never be the same when I’m done with my shift.”

  “So how do I fit into your scheme?” Why was I afraid I knew what he wanted me to do? I glanced at the clock: five-thirty Friday night.

  “I want you to go scope out the boys at the Duluth Family Sauna. See which Russian longshoremen bat for our team.”

  I looked at my hazel eyes, tan skin, Finlander face. Why would a black-haired, bearded, hairy-chested Russian want me? Then again, why wouldn’t he? “So I’m bait?”

  “Master Bait, the best bait we have.”

  “In other words, you want me to use my gaydar to find us dates tonight.”

  “Bingo.”

  “You know I hate…”

  “Please, please, please with sugar on it? With whipped cream on it?”

  I walked up to the brick building at 18 North First Ave East. It was at the corner and looked down a steep sidewalk to downtown Duluth. A partial view of Lake Superior was visible between the buildings.

  I entered the lobby and walked to the check-in desk.

  Two older gentlemen sat behind the counter. One picked up a towel, washcloth and a bar of soap and set it on the counter as the other one stepped behind the old-fashioned cash register and said, “Hello. What would you like today?”

  I looked at the sign.

  Duluth Family Sauna Rates:

  Private Room: $13.00 single, $18.95 couple, $9.00 seniors

  Day Pass: $16.00, no re-admittance.

  All Day Pass: $20.00 come and go as you please.

  Saturday Sleepover: $32.00 Sat noon to Sunday 8 am.

  Late Night Saturday: $22.00 Sat 9 pm to Sunday 8 am.

  I opened my wallet and pulled out a twenty. “I’ll just take a day pass.”

  The man behind the cash register pushed a few buttons, the register dinged and the wooden drawer opened up. He pulled out four singles and handed them to me as he took my twenty. “Head down those stairs, find an empty locker and have fun.”

  “Play safe,” the other man said as he handed me the stack. A gold-foil-wrapped condom sat on top of the bar of soap. He must have added that when I wasn’t looking. “There are more downstairs if you need them.” His eyes looked me up one side and down the other. “I’m sure you’ll need a lot more.” He reached under the counter and added another condom to my pile.

  “Thanks.” I balanced my possessions and went down the dark stairwell to the bull pen. The staircase turned and another flight opened into the locker room. The slam of a metal locker welcomed me as I stepped onto the black rubber mat. A bank of lockers lined two walls, and I headed to one that stood open. I set the towel on the wooden bench, kicked off my shoes, and set them on the rusted floor of the locker. I removed my socks and set them on top. I pulled my red polo shirt over my head and started to undo my fly as I noticed a handsome man watching me.

  He licked his full lips and smiled.

  I smiled back and removed my jeans and hung them on a hook. Standing in my white briefs, I turned my back to him and slipped them off. I dropped them on my shoes and reached for my towel. Trying to keep my dick covered, I swung my towel around my narrow waist. I tied a knot with the loose ends and noticed a huge bulge in front.

  The man nodded at me. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you? I have a private room upstairs if you want to see it.” He pulled his towel back to reveal a huge penis and large dangling balls.

  I smiled and almost wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’m meeting a friend,” I said, “but your offer is most appetizing. I would enjoy a rain check.”

  The man waved me over and said, “Aren’t we all?” He ran his hand under my towel and massaged me. He ran his hand along my shaft and rolled my balls between his fingers. He withdrew it and brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Ah,” he said, and sucked on his finger. He then slipped it back under the towel and maneuvered between my cheeks.

  I nodded.

  He applied a little pressure and entered me. His thumb bounced my balls as he pushed in and pulled out of my ass.

  My knees went weak and threatened to collapse, but the sensation warmed me from the inside out. I pressed down on his hand. My cock swelled and oozed precum. A wet spot formed on the sheer white towel.

  He withdrew his finger and inserted two.

  I widened my stance and rode his hand. My cock lifted the towel and slipped out under the edge. The fat mushroom end glistened as a pearl of precum formed in the opening. As it grew, the cream slowly rolled down my thick shaft.

  His huge dick rubbed along my hairy leg.

  I felt a thick, warm liquid run down to my foot.

  “The Russians are coming, the Russians are coming” filtered through my mind as my balls were saying, “We’re coming, we’re coming.” A huge load shot out of my cock and landed on his oozing dick.

  He reached up and milked my cock as his fingers dug into my ass and tapped my prostate, pushing out more cum. He scooped up my seed and smeared it along his dick, jacking it hard. He shot his wad along my leg, thick cream glazing my leg hair.

  “Sorry to set you off so fast.” He looked down at his dick. “Mine takes a while to reload.”

  I looked down at my leg. “I’ll get to hit the showers first off.” I tucked my cock back into my towel. “Thanks, I needed that, and you sure got my night off to a good start.” I walked over to the tiled shower room and turned on the water. The head burst to life with cold water, and I jumped out of the way until it warmed up. Steam slowly filled the room and I stuck my foot into the spray, washing the cum down the floor drain.

  I pulled the towel off and rinsed off my cock. The warm water felt great, bringing me to semi-wood. I turned off the water and wrapped the towel around my waist.

  There was a maze of yellow-green walls that formed cubicles with doors and glory and peep holes, an empty bed in that one, a man lying face-down to my right. I looked in a peek hole to see a man motion for me to join him. I smiled and pointed to the steam room.

  The fog coated the glass door, and the heavy scent of eucalyptus hung in the air, covering the bleach scent. I opened the door and a wall of steam floated out. A shadow moved as I entered the room. A layer of mist coated my body, and the towel hung damp around my waist, clinging to me like a second skin.

  The man was naked and upside down on the bench. His head hung down over the bottom seat as his legs were spread wide, and he was working his dick.

  “Excuse me,” I said and backed out of the room.

  He opened his mouth wide and licked his lips. “Come back.”

  “Sorry, looking for a friend.” I let go of the door as it swung shut.

  “I can be your friend…” And the door closed.

  I went over to the sauna and pulled the door open, and a heat wave blasted me as I entered. The heavy scent of wood smoke hung in the air. A dim lightbulb illuminated the room; three levels of wooden benches lined three of the walls. No one was inside. I stepped up to the second level with my bare feet and felt the heat soak into my soles. I picked up the wooden ladle and threw water on the barrel of Lake Superior rocks. Steam hissed as the water sizzled on the hot stones and evaporated immediately.

  A new wave of humid heat hit me, and I felt like my hair was on fire. I patted it and found it safe, glad I wasn’t on the top bench. I found a corner spot and sprinkled some water on the seat and sat down. My damp towel absorbed the water, cooling the bench only slightly. Pouring more water over my feet made the wood safe to rest them on.

  Sweat ran out of every pore on my body. I breathed in deeply, savoring the humidity and wood smoke. Only a real Finnish sauna smelled like this. I closed my eyes and absorbed the calm.

  The sau
na door’s hinge squealed as it opened.

  I opened my eyes and watched as a man entered. He was a good looking middle-aged guy, a few extra pounds, otherwise in great shape. He saw me staring at him and he said, “You know the Russians are coming.”

  I smiled to myself. Was I the only one in town who didn’t follow the Russian invasion? “That’s what I heard.”

  “You’d better get out of here before they enter.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a good-looking blond. They’ll gang-rape you in here.”

  Images of that made my cock start to swell again. Two big hairy guys, using my body, fucking every opening I had, stuffing in their thick uncut cocks, thick, black hair on their chests and asses.

  Let Billy find his own date tonight, I thought, but said, “I’m sure I can hold my own.”

  The man rolled his eyes, not believing me. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I just wanted to get my sauna done and get out of here before they arrive.” He poured a ladleful of water on the rocks and steam rose, as did the heat.

  I inhaled the hot humidity and felt another wave of sweat break out over my body. I tentatively sat back and tested the wall. Too hot to touch with my bare skin.

  Fifteen minutes passed, the man left, and my body felt like a wet noodle, limp and relaxed. I needed to cool off and close all my pores. I headed to the shower and stepped into the cold spray, rinsing all the salty sweat and fatigue away.

  Just as I finished the shower three big, hairy men came into the shower room.

  “You must shower first,” the beefy man said as he pulled his towel off his narrow hips. His back was as furry as his chest, thick black curls covered his body and a huge uncut penis swung between his legs.

  The other two men spoke rapidly in Russian. They snapped each other with their towels and made obscene gestures to each other and the other Russian. They washed quickly and wrapped their towels around their waists.

  “We’ll do the sauna and then the steam bath. After that we head back to the hotel for the night.”