#NaNoWriMo Day 10 Daily Output: 7480 words behind the pace.
In the fresh water shower, you take off your trunks washing out the sand from around the waistband, you wring the water out of the trunks turning away from the water, you see a non-threatening guy also in the locker room.
Shower water off, you dry yourself with the towel you brought and are about to find your boxers, "hey could I borrow your towel?" the guy asks.
"Sure." handing the towell to  him, he smiles and looks you up and down, smiles bigger, you feel the warmth radiating from you as you put on your boxers and the rest of your required short sleeve, long pant white uniform.
"I didn't think you were old enough to be a sailor." the guy, naked gives you back the towel.
"I'm eighteen" you say, putting the towel and trunks in your gym bag.
You've got your shoes on, your hat in your hand and he's got his pants on.
"Do you want to get some lunch?" he asks.
You want a cheeseburger, you're hoping this guy will want to go somewhere good, not some fancy place. You're game, you'd like to talk to someone civilized.
"Sure." You give a smile of encouragement.
He ties your gym bag to the rear light on his Moped, you straddle the seat behind him.
"Hold on." he says. "Seriously! Hold on to me. We don't want to lose you."
As he says, you put your hands around his belly, holding each other more than him and he drives into traffic, a risky left turn and some twists through residential housing, he pulls under a car port.
"Here we are!" he's buoyant, "In the wilds of Khanahanamakisomething." you couldn't follow all the syllables in the Hawaiian name. It looked like a regular housing tract, like you're used to in California.
Inside, his house, in the kitchen he's smiling.
"Did you really want lunch or were you just saying that."
You felt accused, "I want lunch."
"Tell you what, you go in there," he said gesturing to a living room with a couch, "take off your shoes and anything else you want to get perfectly comfortable, I'll make a couple of sandwiches and bring them there, most skoshi." He uses the Navy-Japanese slang.
You know for sure he's a fag, but you don't know exactly what he wants from you. His suggestion that you might do more than loosen your collar made you think that you could do something fun, you could take off all your clothes, be lounging naked when he comes in. You've got your shoes off, you stand and pull your shirt out of your waistband and unbutton it, sit down, stand up, take your outer shirt off leaving the clean white tee shirt. You sit back down, take your socks off. Putting your clothes on top of the shoes, at the end of the couch you do your best to sit casually. As he comes in, you become embrassed about your naked feet, pull one under you pushing the other out under a coffee table.
He’s at the other end of the couch, sits holding a small plate and a big sandwich in each hand, swooping them down on a coffee table.
"Eat up. I actually realized I was hungry when I was making these. So, thank you, I probably would've missed lunch today."
You both are taking big tearing bites of the wonder bread, bologna, mayonnaise sandwiches, chewing with full cheeks.
"I don't have any beer, would you mind terribly if i poured wine?"
"Wine is fine." you say.
Sandwich gone, some wine left in the glass, you stretch  the leg you had been sitting on. He repositions to face you and puts his near leg on the couch too. Along side your leg, which he's grabbing the ankle of, by the way.
You don't like his foot, Â you're not going to touch his foot or anything.
He's pulling you down by the leg, both of his hands massaging your calf, he has his foot in your crotch, banging on you, toes pushing the zipper against your dick, pain. You twist get your other leg on the couch and push his foot away, lay back and he's up your leg got a hand in your crotch, holding your nuts and your curved penis, pushing and squeezing, hurting, you jump in pain. He lets go, Comes up with both hands outlining your parts through your pants, stroking nicely, finding the tip of your cock, tickling, you get big, he's opened your belt, buttons and zipper.
You cock stands, he holds your nut sack warm in his hand and he licks the good side of your cock. You shiver repeatedly, in waves, as he brings you to the point of cumming and stops. Again and again until you're shuddering and shaking.
You cry, "you bastard! Let me cum."
He stays with you, his full mouth hot around your raw cock, you cum with great leg kicking spasms. Your heart racing, your breath panting.
He turns you over, he's got his fingers up your butt, he's got his face in your ass crack, his warm tongue up your hole.
He pulls your hips so your knees are up, he's on his knees pushing his hard cock against you. Pain, he spits on his cock, hot pain again, you wrench yourself away, he pulls more, your legs go outside his, he with his fingers leading the way for his prick, he pushes, searing pain makes you fight against his grip. You're free. He's sticking you with fingers, you're squeezing down mean, he pulls his fingers out,
"Maybe you're not ready to do this now. Are you afraid?" he asks, his breath is heavy. He moves his body away, pulls your legs down. He strokes your rear, kindly. You relax, lay flat, your face in a pillow.
He straddles you at your hips, his cock and balls on and in your butt crack. You lie motionless while he squeezes your butt cheeks around him and begins a rocking motion, soothing until it becomes urgent. Several jerks, some yelping affirmations, you feel splattering hot cum.
You and he have pulled on clothes, you feel disheveled and disoriented, your gym bag's still tied on to the scooter. You mount up and buzz off.
"Here, take my number, please," he says handing you a paper slip, as you stand on the sidewalk near the locker room where you met, "call me, I'll take you around Diamond Head, to beaches where we can be naked."
You get some food, you see a movie or two, you eat again and bus back to the ship.
"Keep this confidential," Murphy, the Senior First Class is saying to the whole Operations Division, "there's a National emergency involving Cuba, our squadron has been diverted to the Caribbean. Except us. We're continuing on our WestPac cruise without them."
"No liberty, for now." He's done.
Murphy, the Signalman, catches light coming from one of the other nearby ships. He grabs the signal light, has it on and flapping in seconds. You see the other light without catching any meaning. He says,"you take it, it's a striker wanting to practice. Take it!". You pretend to operate it, Funke is there, he takes it, Murphy's walking away.
The second day, the nearby ships shove off. The third, you're on the log again, Churbuck's on the helm, Â taking the pilot's orders, heading out of Pearl Harbor. You understand the crossing to Japan will be twice as long as California to Hawaii, fourteen days at sea.
You chart the course to Midway, where the World War II naval battle proved the Japanese had lost when  they didn't find the U.S. Aircraft Carriers in port December seventh, forty one. U.S. Naval air power won the Naval battles throughout the long hard fight across the Pacific, your Dad taught you, Victory at Sea, also.
Inside the reef, Midway Island looks like a half empty trailer park sitting on a desert mirage.
Dodo birds, you see through binoculars when Funke pointed them out to you, just close enough to see  something odd about their shape. They do not fly.
Shower water off, you dry yourself with the towel you brought and are about to find your boxers, "hey could I borrow your towel?" the guy asks.
"Sure." handing the towell to  him, he smiles and looks you up and down, smiles bigger, you feel the warmth radiating from you as you put on your boxers and the rest of your required short sleeve, long pant white uniform.
"I didn't think you were old enough to be a sailor." the guy, naked gives you back the towel.
"I'm eighteen" you say, putting the towel and trunks in your gym bag.
You've got your shoes on, your hat in your hand and he's got his pants on.
"Do you want to get some lunch?" he asks.
You want a cheeseburger, you're hoping this guy will want to go somewhere good, not some fancy place. You're game, you'd like to talk to someone civilized.
"Sure." You give a smile of encouragement.
He ties your gym bag to the rear light on his Moped, you straddle the seat behind him.
"Hold on." he says. "Seriously! Hold on to me. We don't want to lose you."
As he says, you put your hands around his belly, holding each other more than him and he drives into traffic, a risky left turn and some twists through residential housing, he pulls under a car port.
"Here we are!" he's buoyant, "In the wilds of Khanahanamakisomething." you couldn't follow all the syllables in the Hawaiian name. It looked like a regular housing tract, like you're used to in California.
Inside, his house, in the kitchen he's smiling.
"Did you really want lunch or were you just saying that."
You felt accused, "I want lunch."
"Tell you what, you go in there," he said gesturing to a living room with a couch, "take off your shoes and anything else you want to get perfectly comfortable, I'll make a couple of sandwiches and bring them there, most skoshi." He uses the Navy-Japanese slang.
You know for sure he's a fag, but you don't know exactly what he wants from you. His suggestion that you might do more than loosen your collar made you think that you could do something fun, you could take off all your clothes, be lounging naked when he comes in. You've got your shoes off, you stand and pull your shirt out of your waistband and unbutton it, sit down, stand up, take your outer shirt off leaving the clean white tee shirt. You sit back down, take your socks off. Putting your clothes on top of the shoes, at the end of the couch you do your best to sit casually. As he comes in, you become embrassed about your naked feet, pull one under you pushing the other out under a coffee table.
He’s at the other end of the couch, sits holding a small plate and a big sandwich in each hand, swooping them down on a coffee table.
"Eat up. I actually realized I was hungry when I was making these. So, thank you, I probably would've missed lunch today."
You both are taking big tearing bites of the wonder bread, bologna, mayonnaise sandwiches, chewing with full cheeks.
"I don't have any beer, would you mind terribly if i poured wine?"
"Wine is fine." you say.
Sandwich gone, some wine left in the glass, you stretch  the leg you had been sitting on. He repositions to face you and puts his near leg on the couch too. Along side your leg, which he's grabbing the ankle of, by the way.
You don't like his foot, Â you're not going to touch his foot or anything.
He's pulling you down by the leg, both of his hands massaging your calf, he has his foot in your crotch, banging on you, toes pushing the zipper against your dick, pain. You twist get your other leg on the couch and push his foot away, lay back and he's up your leg got a hand in your crotch, holding your nuts and your curved penis, pushing and squeezing, hurting, you jump in pain. He lets go, Comes up with both hands outlining your parts through your pants, stroking nicely, finding the tip of your cock, tickling, you get big, he's opened your belt, buttons and zipper.
You cock stands, he holds your nut sack warm in his hand and he licks the good side of your cock. You shiver repeatedly, in waves, as he brings you to the point of cumming and stops. Again and again until you're shuddering and shaking.
You cry, "you bastard! Let me cum."
He stays with you, his full mouth hot around your raw cock, you cum with great leg kicking spasms. Your heart racing, your breath panting.
He turns you over, he's got his fingers up your butt, he's got his face in your ass crack, his warm tongue up your hole.
He pulls your hips so your knees are up, he's on his knees pushing his hard cock against you. Pain, he spits on his cock, hot pain again, you wrench yourself away, he pulls more, your legs go outside his, he with his fingers leading the way for his prick, he pushes, searing pain makes you fight against his grip. You're free. He's sticking you with fingers, you're squeezing down mean, he pulls his fingers out,
"Maybe you're not ready to do this now. Are you afraid?" he asks, his breath is heavy. He moves his body away, pulls your legs down. He strokes your rear, kindly. You relax, lay flat, your face in a pillow.
He straddles you at your hips, his cock and balls on and in your butt crack. You lie motionless while he squeezes your butt cheeks around him and begins a rocking motion, soothing until it becomes urgent. Several jerks, some yelping affirmations, you feel splattering hot cum.
You and he have pulled on clothes, you feel disheveled and disoriented, your gym bag's still tied on to the scooter. You mount up and buzz off.
"Here, take my number, please," he says handing you a paper slip, as you stand on the sidewalk near the locker room where you met, "call me, I'll take you around Diamond Head, to beaches where we can be naked."
You get some food, you see a movie or two, you eat again and bus back to the ship.
"Keep this confidential," Murphy, the Senior First Class is saying to the whole Operations Division, "there's a National emergency involving Cuba, our squadron has been diverted to the Caribbean. Except us. We're continuing on our WestPac cruise without them."
"No liberty, for now." He's done.
Murphy, the Signalman, catches light coming from one of the other nearby ships. He grabs the signal light, has it on and flapping in seconds. You see the other light without catching any meaning. He says,"you take it, it's a striker wanting to practice. Take it!". You pretend to operate it, Funke is there, he takes it, Murphy's walking away.
The second day, the nearby ships shove off. The third, you're on the log again, Churbuck's on the helm, Â taking the pilot's orders, heading out of Pearl Harbor. You understand the crossing to Japan will be twice as long as California to Hawaii, fourteen days at sea.
You chart the course to Midway, where the World War II naval battle proved the Japanese had lost when  they didn't find the U.S. Aircraft Carriers in port December seventh, forty one. U.S. Naval air power won the Naval battles throughout the long hard fight across the Pacific, your Dad taught you, Victory at Sea, also.
Inside the reef, Midway Island looks like a half empty trailer park sitting on a desert mirage.
Dodo birds, you see through binoculars when Funke pointed them out to you, just close enough to see  something odd about their shape. They do not fly.
