Chapter 5
It was time again for me to go back to sea. I was drafted to HMS Falmouth, a general purpose frigate, happily Portsmouth based, so when we weren’t at sea at least I could get home at night – usually. Some ships are happy, others not. Luckily, the Falmouth was one of the happy ones and I really enjoyed my two years on her. I was in charge of the maintenance of the radar and sonar but being one of nature’s volunteers I was soon on the ship’s welfare committee, running the recreational radio on board and producing the ship’s newspaper.
Previously in my married life I had been very faithful, never having played around at all; generally, because I was too busy fantasising about Margaret and her lovers. However, now that I had had some experiences in that way and because I knew that she had been less than truthful and, it appeared, would have no hesitation in shagging around again with or without my knowledge I decided that it was time for me to play. In my life I have never actually instigated an affair with any women. This is probably down to shyness and fear of rejection. Physically I am nothing special to look at, just 5’8” though fairly well built and I have always been fit, working out, jogging, badminton, squash etc. It has often happened, however, that a woman has taken a shine to me for whatever reason and I was now determined to take whatever advantage of the situation I could.
Our first port of call was the town of Falmouth as a courtesy visit. As was usual the liaison officer went ahead and organised girls to bring on board for socials in the Wardroom, the Chiefs’ mess and the Petty Officers’ messes. The officers usually got nurses and the rest of us whatever was left. On this occasion the Chiefs’ mess entertained some girls from K.P. Morritt’s which was the town’s biggest employer. This company made fishing reels and was very big in the sixties and seventies. Unable to compete with Japanese imports it closed down shortly after.
I was the youngest chief in the mess at that time and in some ways different from the rest of the “roughie, toughie, hairy-arsed matelots.” I had been educated at a very good grammar school in the North of England learning Latin and Greek amongst other subjects, nothing so crude as woodwork of course, played rugby rather than football and did the Times and Telegraph crosswords for amusement. Most importantly, I was taught how to be a gentleman by my father, an ex-naval officer himself. I think that veneer of poshness has stood me in good stead on many occasions and indeed this was just such a one. I met Lynette. She was just 19 and later said she was attracted to me because all the rest in the mess” were old” and I talked nice - she talked with a broad Cornish accent or “Janner” as we said in the Navy. I was very impressed with her looks though; brunette, slim, no more than a mouthful of tit – just how I like them. To cut a long story short we ended up in the Grove Hotel in town. Young she may have been but inexperienced she was not. I hardly got a wink of sleep trying to tame her insatiable appetite for cock and kisses. I remember a large white bath towel being saturated with juices as we wiped each other off before another bout of sucking and fucking. I think I stood it up against the wall before I left! Ah, the endurance of youth.
Not many women look better undressed than dressed sadly, but Lynette was one of the few. After a long night I had to get back on board and I was to leave her to have breakfast and make her own way home which fortunately was close by. But I was unable to close the door behind me without slamming it which would have gone down well in a small hotel at 6 o’clock on a Sunday morning. So Lynette climbed out of bed and walked towards me totally, adorably, beautifully, naked to close the door behind me. I treasure that sight even to this day 40 years later. One worry I did have though is that we did not use any precautions whatsoever and I never knew if she was on the pill or not.
Another UK port we visited before sailing far away was Southend. This time we were invited to the local police station and were well entertained with free booze, guided around the best night spots and even rides back to the ship in those taxis with blue flashing lights. Naturally we reciprocated the following night. One of our guests was an enormous detective constable with that air of repressed brutality that some of them have. He was accompanied by his wife and what a contrast. She was very petite, brunette with a lovely smile and freckles around her eyes and high cheekbones. Despite knowing that she was coming on a warship she was wearing a very short skirt indeed. Her husband was enjoying many pints of our CSB (Courage Sparkling Bitter – the standard beer in Senior Rates messes, very tasty and deceptively strong) then turned to me and said, “Babs has been looking forward to a guided tour. Don’t forget to show her the golden rivet.” He roared with laughter. I asked her if she would like a look round and she nodded, so off we went. I was looking forward to following her up the many ladders we have on-board and soon I was having more than my fair share of panties as she climbed ahead of me. Other sailors I passed also watched her with some admiration and a lot of envy.
Falmouth was only a small ship so the tour didn’t take long. We ended up in one of my radar offices and I was explaining the workings of the 993 surface radar when she suddenly asked me where the golden rivet was and when could she see it. I told her gently that it was a joke, there was no real golden rivet. It was a euphemism for a sailor’s private parts. She dimpled and looked down. “Yes, I know, but I want to see it.”
A nod being as good as a wink I put my arms around her and kissed her. Her tongue probed my mouth and she put her arms around my neck. I put my hand under her top and lifted her bra to squeeze her lovely tits and twiddle her nipples. Suddenly she pulled away, dipped down and pulled off her panties, throwing them on the floor behind me. Now, radar offices do not come equipped with beds or sufficient worktop spaces to lay down a beautiful writhing woman. Minutes later we were against a bulkhead, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck, her legs locked behind my back, our lips crushed together and with me thrusting in and out of a very welcoming, soaking vagina. Fortunately, there is always a lot of background noise on a ship else her stifled cries, groans and grunts would have awakened the Watch on Deck!
It had been a few weeks since I had last cum so the flood was not unexpected by me but boy, did she welcome it with a cry as it shot into her hospitable body. Her legs tightened their grip before they slowly relaxed and she slid to the floor holding on to my neck for support.
It was some while before I could take her back to the mess and her husband, so flushed was she in the immediate aftermath of our fucking. I’m fairly certain he had a good idea what we had been up to though; I imagined he got her to tell him all about it later in bed, then perhaps he went down and licked out the remains of my cum from between those gorgeous legs.
The following night the ballroom at the end of the pier went up in flames so we had to cut the trip short. Shortly after we set sail for foreign parts, a trip of some six months duration. I am sure that Margaret would not be celibate and I had no intention of being so either.
First port of call was Gibraltar. In those days it was still a major naval port with ships and garrisons permanently based there, so our visit did not excite much comment or offers of hospitality. There was an incident of note however, concerning my petty officer.
Danny was the diametric opposite to me as far as personality goes, very outgoing and absolutely determined to fuck anything that moved. Nothing much to look at but he did have a way with women! His philosophy was that statistics show that 5% of women randomly selected would fuck a stranger as long as there were no repercussions. So all he had to do was to ask twenty women. His chat up line was, “Before I spend my time and money on you will I be getting at shag tonight?” It was as simple as that. I wouldn’t begin to have the courage to say that to anyone. Nineteen insulted rejections do not compensate for a fuck in my book, but it worked for him. In all the time he was on the Falmouth he never once spent a night on-board in a foreign port. Except in Gibraltar he made a mistake. There were a bunch of girls in the Lord Nelson pub and he chose his first target. Unfortunately, she was with her boyfriend, a corporal in the garrison regiment and he took exception to Danny’s usual question. Danny didn’t argue; he just hit him. Big mistake, Danny was arrested and charged with assaulting a junior rank. He was court martialled, but to make matters worse his wife, Avril, was a Chief Petty Officer Wren who worked in the Admiralty Adjutant General’s office in charge of Court Martial evidence. They are no longer together to no-one’s surprise.
The next port of call was just across the Straits in Morocco, Tangier. As usual we entertained a load of ex-pats in the mess on the first day in. As the youngest chief in the mess I was given the task of looking after a 21-year-old girl for the afternoon and to make sure she got home alright at the end of the social. Great, you may have thought. Except she was fat. Not just fat, but obese, enormous. Some men have a thing about BBWs – Big Beautiful Women – but I’m afraid I’m not one of them. I have struggled with my weight on occasions, but I have always got down to a healthy level by exercise and diet. It only takes a bit of effort, will power and self-respect. I’m sure that there are some people with medical reasons that prevent them achieving a healthy weight, but I am equally sure that the vast majority are more concerned with binge drinking and Big Macs than what people may think. I have no great respect for such people.
Now whether her problem was self-control or medical I do not know, but I just felt uncomfortable being with her but as a guest she had the right to at least a degree of civility from us. Eventually, mid-afternoon the party broke up and I was detailed to walk her home. It was about a twenty-minute walk and she talked incessantly and I played my part well. I also did the things my father taught me for being a gentleman; walking on the road side of the pavement, opening doors, smiling, talking about her and her life and so on. It must have really impressed her, and I think that maybe no-one had treated her with so much respect before, because as we reached her apartment she stopped, took my hand and said, “Will you come in with me?” I quickly declined on the grounds that I had work to do on board which had to be completed before we could sail in the morning. “Oh, you must,” she blushed, “I want to give you something really valuable.” This startled me. “Oh no, I really couldn’t, I don’t deserve anything”
“I’m a virgin. I want you to make love to me,” she spoke quietly, eyes down. On the outside I was stunned, inside I was aghast. There was no way I could see this girl naked, the very though sickened me. I’m sure I made all the right noises about being honoured and what a privilege it would be, but I had to get back on board and so on. Reluctantly she let me go but said that she would pick me up later that evening. She kissed my cheek and went in.
What an awful dilemma. It went very much against the grain for me to let anyone down, and it was really an honour to be asked, but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. So, I took the coward’s way out. I hid on-board, not answering the many calls that went out, until the end of the evening. The following morning, we sailed. It is not something I am particularly proud of and I’m sure it didn’t do her much good emotionally, and if I mentioned to my mess mates that I had turned down the opportunity to de-flower a young girl I would never live it down. But worse things happen at sea.
Our next port of call was Cape Town. My mate Ron had a girlfriend there – one of the sailor’s girl in every port girl – and he was bemoaning the fact that she always took her girlfriend everywhere with her, and it would cramp his style somewhat. Ever the gentleman I offered to take her off his hands. “Oh no, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said. “Why not? She’s not fat is she?” “No” he replied. “She’s not 7 foot tall?” I asked. “No, she’s quite short and slim.” “No problems then, mate.”
Big mistake. I think I’ve seen her since in the Lord of the Rings as one of Sauron’s henchmen. The point I am making is that contrary to common belief that men in general, and sailors in particular, check only for a pulse before shagging a woman is just not true (well, for me anyway). Indeed, during our time in Cape Town I got together with a very attractive girl and we attended dances and parties together and never did anything apart from kissing.
Hong Kong was a different matter altogether. On our first night in with the usual bunch of ex-pats in the mess for a cocktail party one of our guests saw me behind the bar and positively drooled. Possibly because I was the youngest in the mess or maybe she just fancied me, but she came almost running across to me and asked my name, ignoring everyone else.
Her name was Gloria Younger. She and her husband, James, had a factory in Hong Kong manufacturing fishing flies which sold world-wide. They seemed very successful and it appears he indulged her hobby of picking up young sailors. It was now my turn. She was about forty, tending towards plump but not excessively so, fabulously well dressed and bejewelled and rather attractive so I had no problem in allowing myself to be seduced.
James was an alcoholic and was soon out of it. Gloria asked for my help in getting him home and I was glad to oblige. I helped him into their Jaguar and she drove us through the packed streets of Hong Kong past the magnificent hotels, along Gloucester Road then across the island passing the Happy Valley Race Course, possibly the most expensive real estate on earth, on into Aberdeen overlooking the bay with its sampans and floating restaurants. They had a penthouse by the bay in an imposing block with heavy security and an underground car park with lift direct to their place. And what a place! James was reasonably mobile by now, mobile enough to sit on a stool alongside a bar which would not have looked out of place in a hotel. Just about every common drink on optic of lined up on shelves behind the bar. The scotch, my drink of choice, was actually labelled “distilled and bottled for James Younger, Hong Kong.” This guy was seriously wealthy.
“I’m just off to freshen up” said Gloria, “help yourself and James to a drink.”
She left us alone. James poured me a scotch with a splash of water, and himself a large neat one. We talked for a while during which time he had a refill or two. There was no way I could even try keeping up with him.
Then I heard Gloria calling, “Mike, come and help me.”
I looked at James who shrugged and said, “You have to do as you’re told with Gloria” and turned back to the serious business of finishing a bottle.
I walked the way she had left and was just passing one door when she called out “In here.” I entered.
I was in a very large bathroom and in the middle of the room was a sunken bath, actually more of a small swimming pool. Gloria was sitting to one side covered in bubbles. An incongruous image of Amanda Barrie in “Carry on Cleo” swept through my mind and I’m sure my jaw dropped.
“Come on in darling. I need my back scrubbing,” she giggled.
It was quite obvious that she had done this before, even with James in the house, so I really didn’t hesitate too long before I stripped off and walked down the steps – yes, really, there were steps! – into the bath to join her. She reached out her arms and I lowered myself next to her. We kissed. What followed was a frenzy of kissing, hugging, soaping, scrubbing and most of all, feeling each over all over. We were both slippery and her hand on my cock was as exciting as my fingers slipping in and out of her cunt, all done with a great deal of splashing and laughing. I tried to enter her with my hot, wet, slippery, throbbing prick but she stopped me.
She led me out of the bath and put a large white fluffy towel around me and rubbed me almost dry. I did the same to her with another. She then led me by the hand out of the bathroom and into the room opposite. It was a large bedroom with drapes on the wall, subdued lighting and glass sliding windows leading out to a balcony overlooking the bay with its twinkling lights on fishing boats. Magnificent.
She pushed me backwards onto the large bed bent over and took me in her mouth avidly, sucking, licking and twisting her hand round and up and down. I had to stop her after a couple of minutes, or it would have been too late.
I pulled her onto the bed on top of her and kissed her deeply, my hands wandering down her back and caressing the cheeks of her arse. Her vulva was pressing hard on my cock and she ground down on me. I swung her round and lay on top, forcing her legs apart with mine. She reached down and guided my cock into her then raised her legs and wrapped them around my waist. I pushed into the hot warmth of her body and just reached the limit of my thrust as I felt the head of my cock touch her cervix. I withdrew almost fully before thrusting into the limit once more, and again, and again.
All the time she was screaming, scratching and kicking against me, her head rolling from side to side, her eyes closed and her mouth open. Faced with that response and following weeks at sea it was hardly surprising that my cock soon spewed out spurt after spurt of semen deep into her. I slowed down gradually but left my deflating cock between her legs which she lowered and closed, holding me tight as we descended from the heights. We did that silly kissing thing, quick little ones on eyes, mouth, ears, neck as we relaxed. Then we spooned and rested.
I’m pretty sure I nodded off, but I was very pleasantly awoken by a wet, warm familiar feeling around my cock. Being a gentleman, I swung her around and buried my face between her damp inviting thighs. God, how I love that smell, that taste, even though I know that its mine. I tongued my way up and down, in and out, around her little erect button. I have a gap between my front teeth and how she loved it when I sucked her clit in and lashed the captured clutch of nerve endings with the tip of my tongue. That woke us up and she was soon bouncing up and down on top of me with me grabbing and caressing her tits, her head thrown back.
The rest of the night was a blur of wild activity, cuddles, snoozes, gentle nibbles and finally a deep sleep.
Fortunately, the next day was a Sunday so I didn’t have to get back on board. There was no sign of James; Gloria told me he had his own room and wouldn’t be up until lunchtime at the earliest. She served me breakfast on the balcony overlooking the bay and to really start the day properly she knelt in front of me and sucked my cock in front of the 1.2 billion Chinese people, well maybe not quite that many and we were on the ninth floor. I wouldn’t have cared though, it was divine.
We spent two weeks in Hong Kong on a maintenance period where the local team of engineers took over most of the work on board, so I was left with Gloria most of the time. I spent many more nights there, with James keeping out of the way. I also got taking around her circle of friends some evenings where I think Gloria was showing off her “toy boy” (before the term came into fashion). One place we went to belonged to the senior HK Bomb Disposal Officer and I swear that his wife Mary was after a threesome, but Gloria kept her away from me; obviously she thought I didn’t have enough to go around!
All too soon there were tears on the jetty as an extremely knackered Chief Petty Officer waved from the flight deck and looked forward to weeks at sea and some much-needed rest.
And we headed back to Pompey.
We hadn’t been back in Pompey for long before the Icelandic Cod Wars broke out and we set sail again. This involved us working for a couple of months in mountainous seas protecting our trawlers from Icelandic gunboats. At one stage we were rammed by Icelandic gunboat Thor which had a section of railway track welded to its superstructure as a battering ram. Fortunately there was only minor damage, but it could have been serious. I was glad I wasn’t on the trawlers though, in those seas. Not a lot of sex on that trip, but I did have the freshest and best Cod and Chips ever. I swear its tail flapped in the batter!
And I grew a beard.
Now I have a thing about beards and the people who wear them. I don’t like them; too often they are worn by overweight men with tattoos wearing leather and with a high opinion of themselves. I can’t believe that women would want to be with a man like that or be kissed by him (except perhaps between the legs for the “tickle factor”). But we were going off to a cold, hostile place and the Captain thought that a beard-growing contest would add a bit of fun to the trip. You don’t just stop shaving in the Navy, you must put in a formal request to “discontinue shaving,” then when you wish to shave it off you must request again to “commence shaving.” So most of us on board started to get hirsute.
I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised with my effort and decided to keep it when we returned to Portsmouth. Naturally Margaret hated it and ordered me to get rid of it just as I was getting used to it. I did try to “tickle her fancy” a couple of times first though and she enjoyed that, especially as she had shaved just for my return (or so she claimed; I think one of her lovers asked her to). However, I did put in my request and shortly after shaved off. Needless to say, as soon as I did Margaret said that she preferred me with the beard. I have never succumbed again though.
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