It was Monday morning, the ship had just nosed up to the pier in Baltimore, and an announcement had sounded that it would be another half hour or so before the vessel cleared customs and the departing passengers could start leaving in an orderly and highly orchestrated manner. This didn't cover the crew and staff, though. Those among the crew and staff who weren't staying on for the next trip back to the Bahamas, leaving later that afternoon, and working like mad to prepare for the next round of cruisers, were on their own for dragging their luggage off and could leave as soon as their duties were over. Handling their own luggage meant the crew and other staffers had mostly learned to travel light. Buzz had a problem with this, though. He had a saxophone case to carry as well as his suitcase. Buzz was off this route now and not scheduled with the cruise line for a few more months, when he'd be sailing out of Tampa, Florida.
He and Trent were sitting, eating breakfast in the Windjammer café. They had no schedule on when they were to get off the ship—it just had to be before the next round of passengers started coming through the processing to get on. Buzz was drinking the last of his coffee. Trent, a bit morose and still not sure that this was what he wanted, was gazing around the café, where others, with late departure times, were letting the cruise line pay for their breakfasts.
"When I'm done here, it's down to the Schooner Bar to pick up the saxophone," Buzz said. "It will take me extra time to clear that through customs. You can finish packing and come off the ship after me. You sure you can manage alone?"
Trent felt a jab of irritation. He wasn't a child, and this wasn't his first voyage with this cruise line. Of course he could manage on his own. But he knew that wasn't what Buzz meant. Trent had been under intense surveillance by Buzz since the previous Saturday night, when he had come back from the Brazilian's suite to an empty cabin and had eventually fallen asleep in an empty bed.
* * * *
He had been awakened in the early morning hours feeling Buzz's hands intimately moving on his body. While he was still half asleep, Buzz had run an arm under Trent's belly, pulled him up on all fours, mounted his hips, and doggie fucked him hard, fast, and deep. It was done brutally and with a sense of anger. But Trent had loved it anyway, managing a prodigious creaming in the sheets long before Buzz had finished him. Trent collapsed to the surface of the bed and Buzz came down heavily on top of him.
"I came twice to check on you yesterday afternoon and you weren't here," Buzz hissed in his ear.
Between your fuckings of middle-aged cows, and when I came back, you weren't here either, Trent thought to himself, but he dared not say that. "I went to the pool. And to dinner. Am I supposed to stay in the cabin while you're gone, lying here with my legs open, waiting for you to have time for me?"
"Don't be snappy with me," Buzz had growled. "You're with me now. Yes, I want you here when I come for you. When I come, I want you. Can't you understand and appreciate that? You should be happy I want you that badly."
"Yes, yes, I guess so," Trent had answered. He didn't want to fight with Buzz, and he felt the same way when Buzz came to him. He wanted Buzz inside him immediately. And he wanted to be controlled, didn't he? He wanted Buzz to dominate him . . . didn't he?
Trent was fully awake for the customary second taking, and now fully under Buzz's control. Buzz was raised on his knees, kneeling between Trent's bent knees, pulling Trent's pelvis up into his crotch with hands clutching and spreading his buttocks for maximum penetration. Trent's torso cascaded down to the surface of the bed, where his shoulder blades were taking his weight. Trent was bunching and rebunching the sheeting on the bed with the hands of his outstretched arms, and his head was lolling from side to side, every fiber of him concentrating on whether or not the two punishing balls at the sides of the pioneering cock barbell could reach new territory inside his channel that Buzz had not previously explored—and finding that, in this position, they could.
The long slide and then in, and Trent shuddered and gasped.
"It's all arranged. I'm off the ships until the summer and then I'll do the run to the Western Caribbean out of Tampa. You'll stay with me in Baltimore and we'll go down to Tampa together."
"But, I'm signed on for the next seven cruises here. I . . . oh shit, of fuck, do that again."
Deep inside Trent's channel, Buzz had rotated the cock head, dragging the balls around the channel walls, which were shimmering at the attention. A long, slow slide out, and, with Trent holding his breath and trying not to cry out, the long, slow slide back deep, if anything, deeper than before.
"Oh shit, oh fuck," Trent murmured as he let his breath out.
"I've talked to the cruise director down there. They'll be delighted to have you in that dance troupe. He knew of you. We'll go down a month earlier and I'll get us an apartment in Tampa so you can practice for the Western Caribbean performances."
"But Erick. The troupe here . . . oh, god, oh, god, OH GAWD!" More deep golden ball work before the slow slide out and then back in.
"It's all arranged. You're coming with me. Isn't that great?"
In, out. Innnnn, ouuut.
"Yes, Daddy. Oh, Daddy, Daddy!"
In, rotate, out. Innn then (gasp!) further innn and the long slide out.
"But, while we're in Baltimore. I could—"
"While we're in Baltimore, I'm taking care of you. You can just be in the apartment, waiting for me to come home. Right?"
Trent panting heavily, struggling to speak, and when he did, "God, you're in me like never before. The cock barbell. Oh shit, the balls. I'm gonna—"
"I said right? It was a question." Holding completely still, not letting Trent move a muscle.
"Yes, Daddy, Whatever you say. I want to come. Oh, god, let me come."
