Captain's Obsession

The invitation was engraved, which of course it would be, but it was addressed to me specifically. One open invitation to the consulate staff and then this separate one for only me. I was only the U.S. vice consul in Naples, Italy. So why my own invitation? I separated it out and slipped it into my suit coat pocket as I moved toward the consul's office. Alice would not be pleased if she saw that I'd gotten a specific invitation and she, the consul, hadn't. But when I got to Alice's office, she only had eyes for me. She showed no interest in the mail at all. She was giving me those doe-eyed, swimming in semen adoring looks of hers that I hoped the rest of the staff didn't see. Her eyes were asking for more of the same of what I'd given her the previous night, rapid piston action to the depths of her writhing, moaning body on her living room carpet. Maybe tonight we'd make it as far as the bed. Or whatever she wanted. She was calling the shots.

The invitation was for the USS Chester Lenox, a U.S. Arleigh Burke–class Aegis guided missile destroyer, that would be appearing for a courtesy port call and a show of the American flag in Naples Bay in three-days' time. Per protocol there would be a cocktail party for local dignitaries on the destroyer's fantail, and, of course, I and the rest of the staff of the American consulate in Naples would be invited to that—and would be expected to show up and fawn over the local dignitaries.

Which all didn't explain the personal invitation sent only to me. I had spent my two years aboard ship in the navy, but I'd been a lowly seaman. Surely that would not be what would get me my own invitation.

The day of the cocktail reception was glorious, and I had an exhilarating feeling of the best of the days I spent in the navy cutting through the foam of the sea with a cruiser under my feet as the launch streaked its way through the yachts in the harbor and out to the U.S. destroyer hunkering majestically and malevolently in the center of the bay. I could feel the raw power and sensuality of the hulking structure of the boat and felt myself aroused. Alice must have done so as well, as she put her hand on my thigh, supposedly to steady herself in the lurching launch, but the look in her eye told me, "See that sleek vessel of power and brute force we are approaching? That is you between my legs—my own guided missile destroyer." Ah, the things we do to progress in our careers.

We were handed up to fantail of the Chester Lenox, where the party was already in full bloom in a swirl of black tuxedos, brightly colored cocktail dresses, navy whites, clinking glasses, and lilting laughter. We were guided to the reception line, me immediately behind Alice.

"Dr. Alice Worthington, U.S. consul general to Naples," a protocol officer at the captain's elbow carefully enunciated.

My attention had been diverted to admiring the sleek lines of this new class of destroyer, but all of my senses snapped right back to the reception line as the protocol officer continued.

"Dr. Worthingon. May I introduce the commanding officer of the USS Chester Lenox, Captain Theodore Sims."

I was paralyzed and speechless. The naval attaché at the consulate had to nudge me to take up my place in front of the captain as Alice moved on. She was already being asked what she would like to drink by a handsome young blond navy lieutenant, all big-toothed smiles and well-cut muscle, who was guiding her with one hand on her elbow and the other waving to a seaman with an hors d'oeurves tray balanced in his hand.

"Matthew Crenshaw, vice consul general—"

"We've already met," the captain cut in. "Mr. Crenshaw was in the navy. He's already served under me. Hello, Matt."

I had trouble focusing my attention, maintaining my demeanor, and finding a voice.

"Hello, Ted . . . I mean Captain Sims. Welcome to Naples." I felt so exposed. That "he's already served under me" said so much; it said it all. I was surprised that those around us were able to keep straight faces. But of course they wouldn't know. Or wouldn't they? He ruled a ship now. I couldn't believe he would have changed. Some of these naval guys in his command surely knew. The invitation. At least this now explained my personal invitation.

"I'd like a moment with you later, if you will, Matt," the captain was saying. I could do no more than nod my head and then I was gone, beyond the line and milling around in the swarm of partygoers, most of them there for the free food and drink and the glow of having been invited and, more important, being seen to have been invited.

For several moments I was lost in the swirling revelers in a world of my own—a world of vivid memories. My last night in the navy on board the cruiser in the Persian Gulf. Assigned that last night for watch duty on the starboard in the shadows of the bridge. The dark Greek muscle hunk executive officer, Lieutenant Ted Sims, coming up close behind me at the rail. He had pursued me for months, but I was only a seaman and he was second in command—and he was so overpowering. I was terrified of the possible ramifications of that—for both of us. But he was here, close behind me, my last night. Whispering in my ear of his need; his anger and frustration that I had eluded him until it almost was too late. His wanting me. The massiveness of his cock rubbing against the small of my back screamed of his desire. Me, pushed up against the rail, my arms splayed out, his fists holding my wrists in bondage, his hot breath on my neck, his words invading me, arousing me, his massive chest digging into my shoulder blades, his cock rubbing up and down on the small of my back and between my butt cheeks through the thin cotton of my shorts. I began to tremble and whimper, and he could tell the instant I had given in to him. He pushed my shorts down in back and rubbed his cock across my hole, one of his hands went under my T-shirt hem and slithered up to my nipples and the other pushed down past the waistband of the shorts and found and encased and squeezed and stroked me. He was still breathing heavily at my ear, his lips buried in my neck, and he was whispering of how he had to punish me for making him wait so long and for there being so little time now.

Lost in him now, I turned my face to his and signaled my surrender to him by passionately returning his kiss on my lips. But that wasn't enough for him. He invaded my mouth with his fingers and told me to lather them up well. And then he was fingering my hole with them, lubricating me and opening me to him. He had the bulging head of his dick against my hole, but he stopped, poised there. I was already groaning and gulping with mixed anticipation.

"You. You have to initiate it," he was murmuring to me. "You have to show me it's what you want." Then he took my right hand from the rail, stilling gripping it hard by the wrist, and moved it to between our pelvises, to his engorged tool. He made me hold his cock to my hole and then move my butt back onto it. He made me force the entry, with great pain and panting and moaning. But then, once it was a couple of inches inside me, he plunged and plunged and plunged. And I threw my head back and yelled to the sky, the cries of my taking lost in the thundering of the foam in the surging Persian Gulf waters.

" . . . the U.S. stock market will—"

"Excuse me? Excuse me, what was that you said? The noise, you know—" I was peddling as fast as I could to return to the here and now of the cocktail party. The deputy mayor of Naples, whose favorite topic was the health of the U.S. stock market that he was so heavily invested in, was mining me for insider information I didn't have, even though he seemed never able to grasp that reality.

"I said, do you think the U.S. stock market will rebound in the next quarter?" He was looking at me with such concern and intensity that I felt I had to say something. That was my job here in Naples; keeping everyone happy with the United States, American tourists and local businessmen alike. And captains of visiting U.S. naval vessels, for that matter.

"I . . . I think—" I started, but then I was saved by the ship's protocol officer. He had his white-gloved hand on my sleeve and was cutting in with his smooth but authoritative voice.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm so, so sorry, but the captain has asked to have a word with Mr. Crenshaw in private. He'll be just a moment. I'll return him straightaway."

The protocol officer led me through a hatch doorway just below the bridge and then backed out of the door. When it had clinked shut, Ted appeared from a side doorway and encased me in his arms. He kissed me deeply and I could tell that he was just as tense and angry he had been on that last night when he fucked me against the rail of the cruiser.

"All that time you lost us," he said through clenched teeth when he'd come up for breath. "You gave me months of frustration."

"Ted, Ted," I said. "That was long ago— We can't—"

"I want you to follow this gangway back to the room beyond that door at the end and wait for me there. I won't be long." And then he was gone.

Ted was such a forceful presence. I had always tried to keep my distance because I'd known I could not resist his gravitational pull. And he was such a consuming and commanding force that I was afraid of him and of his effect on me. I knew I couldn't fight him here and now, on his own ship, and so I slowly moved down the corridor toward the closed door at the far end.

The passage was poorly lit, and quite unexpectedly an arm emerged from a partly open bulkhead off to the left, and grabbing hold of the diaphanous shirt of my summer tuxedo, yanked me sideways. Doubly stunned now, before I could react to this new surprise I was pulled into a cabin and the door was closed with a final metallic clang.

Inside the space only a dull red nightlight illuminated the windowless gloom, and I saw shadows swirling around me; hands reaching for my body and finding it. The shadows came in closer and surrounded me. They were carefully but completely disrobing me. I was blind beyond the sense of motion around me, but there were things I could hear. I could hear rasping breaths, small gasps, and moans, as the big strong, long-fingered hands of the shadowy figures glided over the curves of my body and found my tender, exposed parts.

Mouths descended on my mouth. And I tasted the intimate inner taste of their owners. Some sweet, some smoky, some tasting of wine. Other mouths found my skin, and I was lathered in saliva and damp heat as the tongues caressed me. Tongues followed the lines of my veins and arteries, delved into the creases of my armpits, flowed along the sides and over the head of my manhood, invaded the crevice leading deep inside me.

One voice was repeatedly crying out now in arousal, and I suddenly realized that it was my voice. Bodies were covering mine in a writhing entwining and I tried desperately to move up in the swirling pile. I climbed above the others but was dragged relentlessly back into the center of the undulating mass, as the searching hands and probing fingers delved into the crevices of my body and found hidden tender parts. Then I ceased to hear myself as another mouth possessed mine, and my body was stretched and spread and tied and opened, and made ready to be entered by the hard throbbing tools of my captors. Big, long, hot, throbbing cocks pushing at my mouth, sliding in my armpits, rubbing across my chest and belly, being encased with mine and stroked, invading my hole. Plunging and pumping, and going rigid, and flowing. Being withdrawn, only to be replaced again different invaders, all throbbing, all, in the end, flowing. I sank into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I was splayed out naked on the floor of a small, private, minimally functional but pristine clean head, and my clothes were neatly folded and sitting on the toilet seat. I arose with the groans of stiffness screaming at me, showered in the small stall, and methodically, painfully redressed over bruised skin and stretched muscle. Then, putting on my best "nothing happened here; no making of waves here" diplomatic face, I found my way back to the fantail.

The party was breaking up. Alice had already left—or was leaving. I reached the rail in time to see her looking up at me from the launch with a perplexed, questioning look in her eyes. The blond lieutenant was sitting beside her in the launch.

"Don't worry. She will be well serviced tonight," Ted said as he sauntered up beside me close at the rail. "I told her we had wanted to entertain you on board for the evening and would return you to work in the morning. I could tell from her reaction that she was expecting you to be available tonight. You needn't do your duty tonight, though. The lieutenant will give her a good ride—as I will give you."

That night, as I lay spread-eagled on the bed in the captain's cabin, my white-knuckled hands gripping notches in the headboard overhead tightly, my legs spread wide, a pillow under the small of my back, me crying out my consumed passion, and a hard and grunting Ted crouched between my thighs and plunging again and again deep inside me, I felt the change in him. He no longer exuded the anger and frustration he had during our fleeting fuck on the cruiser or his kiss in the gangway. Now he was just enjoying me—and I had to admit that I was enjoying him