To Sea – Pt. 02

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The dock sat at the edge of the bay. The heavy, grey sky blending perfectly with the aging concrete jetties and drab metal pontoons. The nondescript warehouses and fisheries buildings clung to the hillside like rusting barnacles. The only flashes of colour through the mix of mist and pungent engine fumes were the crab boats. They lined the harbour in pairs. Busy with activity and bathed in warm sodium floodlights they cast long shadows of the men loading and unloading the boats along the wet concrete and sheet metal. Shouts and ropes were thrown between the burly men as they jumped the black gaps between the boats. Impatience hung in the air, idling like the engines of the readying boats.

A knock on my window woke me out of my daydream and I turned to see a beaded man’s face shouting something against the rain. I opened my door, “Sorry, I’m running a bit – “

“Get your shit onboard, we’re casting off!” I recognised that deep, gravelly voice immediately. But, fuck he was gorgeous! His long rain-soaked hair falling in dark waves over a thick muscular neck, tanned dark from a lifetime of working outdoors. Arms like hardwood trunks, heaved against a worn, oil-stained plaid shirt, rolled up to reveal his perfect glistening forearms. This guy had the physique most guys spend years in the gym trying to achieve. And I bet he’s never set foot in one. Tattoos snaked around each arm – a faded mix of pinup girls and nautical scenes. Aware I had been staring at his arms for an uncomfortably long time I met his annoyed gaze. He grunted and walked off into the rain. His heavy biker boots crunching the icy gravel below them.

I followed behind him and met some more of his crew at the harbour side. One man with a tattered, stained baseball cap grabbed my bag and gestured for me to jump aboard. I took a tentative step up onto the lip of the harbour and stepped onto the slowly swaying boat. Suddenly my boot slipped on the slick, wet wood of the boat’s deck and I reeled backwards, my arms hopelessly grasping for something to steady me. Panicking, I began to fall backwards into the gap between the boat and the dock. Just as I opened my mouth to scream I felt a strong hand dart out and grab the collar of my jacket, effortlessly pulling me back aboard.

“Fucking greenhorn!” The man who met me at my car still held me by the collar and gave me a shake. “Get inside before you have another accident!”

Sheepishly I followed the men through a rusting steel hatch at the back of the boat, stepping carefully through another door labelled “Galley” into a small dining room. The room looked like something straight out of a 70’s catalogue. Nicotine-stained wood panels, thrift-store landscape paintings and thrice-repaired mustard leather upholstery. Once the istanbul travesti room had filled with crew, the exasperated bearded man slid into one of the leather benches around a large table. He reached into his shirt pocked and produced a battered packet of cigarettes and placed one into his scowling mouth. The flame of his lighter leap up to light it and his eyes glowed a fierce amber as he surveyed the room.

“Another season boys…” The loud chatter of the waiting men instantly quieted as they all turned to the man sat at the table. “… ain’t no ice this south yet, so we’ll be heading north. I want all this gear in the water by tomorrow night!” He took the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed to a tall man by the small kitchen at the far side of the room.

“Jonathan’s deckboss this season while Trigger’s inside.” Murmers and nods of approval rolled round the busy room while I wondered who ‘Trigger’ was and if his reason for being inside matched his name-sake.

“I won’t let you down Skipper.” The man was wearing Hawaiian shirts for God sake! At this time of year! My gaze fell down muscled legs and sculpted calf’s to his large feet, half-stuck into a garish pair of green crocks. I caught myself noticing his baggy white vest, barely hiding his tight, rigid abs and wondered why I was becoming stifling hot. Everywhere I turned I was shoulder to shoulder with these huge men. My short, curvy frame was lost amongst the tide of testosterone and facial hair. I shifted my weight from one foot to another allowing a small waft of air to run between my legs as my heavy rain bibs puffed up. I suddenly felt horribly out of place and completely overdressed in this small room beneath the deck. So, as quietly as I could I took off my dripping sou’wester hat and ran a hand through my messy hair.

Skipper turner to Jonathan and gestured towards me with his coffee mug, “Introduce our guest then.” he grumbled looking my glistening, wet figure up and down.

“This is … ” Jonathan hesitated turning toward me.

“Erin.” I said, trying to smile to all the men in the room. “Thanks for giving me the opportunity to come on board.” and with that, a few sniggers shot round the small room.

“Enough” The skipper snapped. Once again taking a long, thoughtful drag from his cigarette. “Erin is our new greenhorn. And our guest. You’ll treat her with the respect she deserves. Jonathan, get her a bunk.”

“We don’t have any empty bunks skipper.” Jonathan said apologetically.

“Well, while first watch is on, she can just sleep in any empty one.” skipper grumbled.

“Doesn’t have to be empty!” A voice from behind me called out and a wave of laughter broke and crashed around the room again. I blushed, reddening at the innuendo but I chose travesti istanbul this stupid, spontaneous adventure and I was open to whatever was going to come my way.

We cast off and left the small harbour in the darkness. The moon snaking a path behind us in our silent wake. The smell of diesel and salt filled every breath that wasn’t snatched away by the biting cold sea air. I was thankful now for my thermals and oilskins, they kept the cold and wet off, I was actually pleasantly warm as I stood on the deck watching the faint lights of the town disappear over the horizon. I stood for a moment longer, white spray splashing off my thick PVC jacket and bibs and rolling harmlessly down my front. I gripped the railings through my rubber gloves enjoying the protection they offered. I felt invincible. I felt safe.

A voice came over the crackling tannoy. “Greenhorn, get inside and see me.” It was the unmistakable, commanding voice of the Skipper. I turned and walked carefully to the crew entrance, balancing against the gentle sway and rock of the boat.

As I stepped through the hatch and into the room where all the kit was hung to dry he motioned towards a rusty speaker hung in the corner of the ceiling.

“What’s that?” I asked, shaking off the water from my rain gear.

“That’s the ship’s intercom. Make sure you can always hear it.” He said with a drawl that melted through his rough exterior like chocolate. I continued to gaze, like a fool, into his dark, abyssal hazel eyes. Barely listening at all. “This is your harness. Wear it at all times. When you hear “Clips on” over the intercom, you fucking clip on. Got it?”

“What?” I snapped out of my stupor and blushed again. My wind-blown cherry red cheeks made even redder by embarrassment. Come on Erin, pay attention!

“Here!” And he spun me round by the waist, firmly but not violently. I gasped quietly as he stood over me and tightened the elasticated nylon webbing around my waist, cinching it in (which surprisingly accentuated my hips and ass) and handed me a heavy steel clip. “See those lines.” Me pointed towards the thin steel cables that ran the length of the deck outside and around the inside of the small room we were in, “Clip on like this and don’t unclip until you’re told.”

“Yes Sir.” I said timidly, and almost automatic reaction to his command.

“Yes, Skipper!” He shot back and gave my harness a tug, as if to check it was fastened correctly, making me fall towards him. My PVC-clad ass bumping into his crotch for a brief but electrifying moment. Even through my rain bibs I could feel his unmistakable hardness.

But before I could turn around he was gone. The squeaking, scraping of the heavy hatch closing behind him.

I couldn’t deny it any longer. istanbul travestileri I was horny as fuck. Was it because I had been essentially living as a recluse for these past few months? Was it the excitement of this new adventure? Was it these cute abd kind-of kinky rubber oilskins? Was it him? I decided it was everything. All at once.

I just needed a few minutes alone. With his face, and chiseled forearms in my mind I rushed back inside to try and find my luggage. I thanked myself for remembering to pack my “spy-brator”. My super quiet, stealthy, travel sized vibrator that I kept for emergencies like this.

I entered the galley and a few of the guys were still talking and smoking, waiting for their watch.

“Hey guys, em…do any of you know where my luggage was put?”

“Sorry Darling, no idea.” The first guy said barely looking up from his cards.

“I think Dwayne sorted your gear out, go and ask him.” The other guy offered, smiling. He was only wearing a towel. Wrapped precariously around his tight, muscular waist. A beautifully sculpted six pack visible under the wet hair of his stomach. He shifted his position as accidentally glanced between his legs. His thick cock leisurely hanging out on the leather bench.

I moved between them, noisily sliding against their legs. This was becoming too much.

I searched for Dwayne in another room called the crew berth. A long, small room full of bunk beds. Each with a curtain and a locker. A single lightbulb swayed in the middle of the room, shadows swinging as the sea rocked us gently side to side.

“Dwayne?” I said quietly. Maybe he was asleep? Although we had only been gone a few hours.

“Dwayne!” I called louder.

“I’m busy!” A muffled voice came from inside one of the curtained bunks.

“I think you have my luggage. I just need something out of my case. I won’t be long! Do you know where the toilet is?”

“I said I’m fucking busy!” He shouted, breathlessly.

“Busy doing what?” I needed that bag. I needed release.

“You wanna fucking know?!” And he threw back his curtain and swung his naked legs over the edge of the top bunk in front of me. I looked up just as his hand grasped his enormous, bright red cock and erupted with a stream of glistening cum right in my face. The hot ropes of thick cum covered my face and slid down my open mouth, dripping down the front of my yellow oilskins. Splashes of cum continued to cover my neck and chest as I stood speechless. My eyes shut. I gasped as I began to quiver and the first, thunderous orgasm rose from my stomach to wash over my entire body. I cried out and licked the white cum from my lips, and with one rubber gloved hand spread the rest of the load all over my front, wiping it around while the last twitches of my pleasure abated.

“There – at least you’re good for something. Now fuck off.” Dwayne said, pulling himself down from the bunk to stand at eye level with me. His anger now gone, a small smirk flashed across his face.

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