NOTE: this story contains gay male sexual content.
*
Have you ever made love on the deck of a ship? Me neither, but I've had sex on one.
The rain stabbed at our skin like icy needles. I lay on my pack, looking up at him. He was 22, four years my senior, but he was so much bigger than I it bordered on the obscene. His body was hard with muscles, green-tinged skin scarred and tanned from battle and exposure to the elements. One of his tusks was broken and filed smooth and flat, but the other stood proud and tall, gleaming in the wane moonlight. He smirked down at me with a twinkle in his ebony eyes, making me squirm around his knees.
"Your so sexy," he growled as he laid a huge hand on my flat stomach, using the other to brush his wet, black hair off his face. I only stared up at him, beginning to pant as he dragged his hand lower on my body. The difference between us was so great his fingers and thumb were able to brush my hips as his palm brushed across my hard cock. He rubbed over my length, making me gasp in pleasure. His body radiated heat and I felt his own erection grow even larger against my thigh as he chuckled.
"And so eager," came his gravelly voice as he used his free hand to toy with first one nipple, then the other, making my toes curl as I bit my lip to stifle a moan. He licked his lips, his tongue dragging down his full tusk and part of the way up his broken one. He leaned down towards me, his immense hand keep me from rising to meet him, and flicked that organ against my nipple, cause me to gasp. He laughed softly, a noise like crumbling rocks, and continued his delightful torture. My toes curled and my legs thrashed as my hips pumped against his calloused hand. My hands were free this time: in our previous sessions, and we had enjoyed several, he was want to hold my wrists in his immense grasp. I placed one on the back of his head, grabbing a tiny fistful of his drenched locks and giving him the silent encouragement to be rougher. He obliged eagerly, biting my nipple and making me inhale sharply.
The noise must have urged him to push ahead, as he wrapped his great digits around my now throbbing member. Two digits, at least, his thumb and forefinger holding me like a pencil between them. His enormity had taken me some time to become accustomed to; he was several feet taller than I, easily twice as broad and many times heavier. But despite his vast size, or perhaps because of it, he was always gentle with me. Except when I didn't want him to be.
Against my will I cried out as his onslaught continued, now alternating his teeth between the peaks of my flesh as his hand rubbed up and down with a steady, but agonizingly slow, pace. My hips once more began thrusting, meeting each of his down strokes and pulling away on the upstroke. Against my thigh, just barely beyond my reaching fingers, lay the gargantuan dick that would soon be inside me, laying a small trail of precum on my skin and the smooth wood of the deck.
I began to whimper and whisper his name, before biting my other hand hard enough to leave a mark, but just shy of drawing blood. The pain would both cut and add to the pleasure, I knew, prolonging the exquisite torment just a bit more. But it still wasn't enough. In what seemed like moments I was stifling a moan with my arm as I came into his hand. His entire body paused for a moment, then he lifted away from me, leaving my ravaged flesh to chill in the cold night air. It was only then that I realized the light rain had stopped; his broad back and shoulders had sheltered me from it.
He lifted his hand up to his smirking mouth and locked his eyes with mine as he licked my goo from between his fingers, making me whimper excitedly and causing my just-spent cock to stir back to wakefulness. He pulled away from me enough that I could sit forward and bent over so our lips met. His thick tongue invaded my mouth and pushed some of my own cum inside. I relished the feeling and taste of his saliva, mixed with my own semen, swirling around in my mouth. He pulled away, leaving behind the fruits of his labor, and I swallowed greedily. My flagging erection surged to full mast as the salty fluid slid down my throat. As I shuddered in pleasure at the sensation he slid back on the slick wood and I was finally able to get a good view of his gigantic cock. And it was beautiful.
The glans was only slightly smaller than my fist, and the shaft was as thick as my wrist. It was the same deep green as the rest of him, though engorged with blood it seemed darker. Veins pulsed the length of it; I knew from experience they were almost as hard as the whole of his cock. Below the imposing rod hung a pair of equally pendulous balls, obscenely large on any stature smaller than his own mountainous physique. The slit of his cock gleamed wetly in the moonlight and my mouth watered as I reached for it. He simply adjusted his position to be more comfortable and leaned back on his arms, content to let me do all the work. It was only fair after all.
I started at the base, where the skin of his balls met his dick. I suckled at the spot, the nibbled at it, my pulse raising as he groaned above me. I extended my tongue and traced a path all the way up to the underside of his head, then kissed my way back down. This process I repeated twice more: on the third trip up I licked across the slit in his head and collected a mouthful of prized precum, swallowing it happily. I loved the taste for some reason. It was salty, but not so much as sea spray, and had a tangy sweetness that reminded me of oranges.
"Yesss," he hissed above me as I kissed and nipped the tip of him. I stretched out my tongue again and worked over every inch of his throbbing erection, kissing, licking and biting, making the whole of it shine even in the dim lighting. When I hit a spot I knew he liked I lingered for a moment, making him swear and throw his head back. I reached up one hand and tangled my fingers into the bush of hair above my head. It was thick and black and hung as limp as the stuff on his head, though I knew both were curly when dry. It met the hair of his stomach in a neat triangle shape, though he never trimmed it. He was covered in hair, though that on his arms and legs was silky, whereas his bush was thick and full and the hair of his chest and belly was coarse.
I pulled away and looked at my treat with some apprehension; it was the moment of truth. I was both afraid and excited, and the conflicting feelings made my head swim. If I waited I might chicken out, and while I knew I would enjoy what came next I wanted to do this for him. So I took a deep breath opened my mouth as wide as I could and sank my maw onto his cock.
My jaw stretched painfully as he swore above me and rested a great hand on the nape of my neck. He didn't push, and I knew he wouldn't. It was a subconscious movement, a reminded by the animal side of his brain of who was in charge. But I had never forgotten. I relished our statuses.