Date: Tue, 7 Mar 2023 18:46:50 +0000 (GMT)
From: Peter Brown <badboi666@btinternet.com>
Subject: After Inverthrum: Chapter 10

After Inverthrum by badboi666

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If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away.  If, as is much more likely,
you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex
with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right
place.

Don't leave, however, without doing this:

Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to
eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

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Chapter 10

I knew that once Mick got busy on my cock I might not last as long as I
wanted, so I told him just to use his lips and tongue. "No
deep-throating. Not yet anyway."  He nodded. It was as well he got no
further, because when Finn's tongue started to lick round his arsehole Mick
lurched forward. "Fuck!" he groaned, "no-one's done that before."  I was
surprised - he'd implied that his brothers had done everything, but
evidently their fucking him had not been preceded by any of the preliminary
warm-ups that were second nature to Finn and me. "New that, is it?" I
whispered. "Mmm. Nice." "Then let him carry on - there's no hurry. Forget
about my cock for a while." "Can't. It's too hot and sexy. But I'll keep
you on the brink if you like." It was my turn to say `mmm'.

Finn and I have played tongue music on and in each other's arse long enough
for me to know what he was doing out of sight to the happy 13-year-old
stuck between us. I was able to reach forward to feel the 13-year-old's
cock (he lurched again) and gather the drop of precum Finn's tongue had
produced.  I brought it to my lips. "You taste good, Mick, and there's more
to come if Finn's got anything to do with it." "Mmm. Fingers too."

Finn greased his hands and put a finger of each hand slowly into Mick's
arse. "Don't worry, Finn, I can take it. Get them in."  Finn shrugged: if
Mick wanted to be invaded he wasn't going to hold back. The two fingers
were joined by two more. Finn now had two fingers of each hand inside Mick
as far as he could get them. Mick was purring happily. "Good?" I
whispered. "Mmm." Mick's conversational skills were going to be on hold, I
decided, for some time. Still, speech wasn't what his tongue would find as
its main task while he was with us. Just so that I wasn't left out of it he
opened his mouth and took my cock in. His tongue lashed my glans, gathering
a fair amount of precum. I gathered more from his cock.

Finn gently separated his hands, producing another deeper, more intense
`Mmm'. "Like that?" "Mmm." "Push then," and when Mick did so a beautiful
rosebud began to appear (so Finn reported to us). "Lick it," I said, "it'll
drive him up the wall. It won't be shitty, don't worry." "How do you know?"
"Well, he's no beginner (a muffled `mmm' from the mouth in which my cock
was being bathed), and no-one's said that shit games were on the
cards. Therefore he'll be clean back there and if what you can see is red
then go for it." It was Finn's turn to say `mmm'.

"Ah fuck!" moaned Mick, "that's so fucking hot." "No-one licked you back
there before?" I said. "Nope. But the buggers will be told, don't worry."
Finn broke off from his ministrations to advise Mick that he, Mick, would
be licking out his, Finn's, arsehole before the night was out. "And mine,"
I whispered.

Finn's tongue was busy, as were his fingers, and I knew that Mick would
come, when he did, with very little warning. His first cum had been
squashed between us and I was damn sure that his second wasn't going to be
wasted. "Off you get," I murmured, "I need your cock where it'll be nice
and safe and warm."  He wriggled a couple of feet forward - with Finn still
attached - and fitted his cock - his lovely hard still-cummy 13-year-old
full of promise cock - between my lips. "Mmm," deeper and more contented
than ever. "Take me to the moon," he moaned, "I'm loving every second."

Finn and I knew that there was no hurry. We also knew that Finn was in the
driving seat: my mouth was merely a receptacle for cum, rather than the
means of its production. This time, anyway. What might happen later wasn't
important. Finn's tongue lapped at the rosebud, occasionally pushing in, so
that Finn's face was pressed hard against the tender wet insides of the
boy. His fingers were still pulling Mick's arse as open as they
could. Suddenly a new sound. "Aaah!" Finn immediately pushed one index
finger deep inside and found Mick's little prostate. Two seconds later I
felt cum spurting onto my tongue. Five strong spurts, so intense that Mick
had been silent while his balls fed me. It was only when Finn allowed his
fingers to slip out, and his tongue to give a final lick of the rosebud
that speech returned to a spent Mick.

"Jesus."

It was a good three minutes before Mick felt able to say more about his
experience. "What were you licking, Finn? It was really sexy." "The red bit
inside your arse, but I've no idea what it is. I've not seen anything like
it before. It obviously didn't hurt, but it looked raw and sore. What was
it, Stewart?" It was always nice to be regarded as the fount of all
knowledge.

"One of my grandfather's soldiers loved having his arse done things to, and
the more stuff he had shoved up there the happier he was. One day - I must
have been about your age, Mick - I was dragged in to see what went on. I'd
heard about what he liked, and the other boys had discussed what might
actually have been involved, so as my grandfather's son I was lucky to be
the first to see it for myself. Billy - that was his name - was a skinny
bugger of about 30, and when the other one and I went into his room he was
lying on his back stark naked. His cock was huge, or it seemed huge to a
13-year-old. The other man - John - stripped off. 'You too, lad,' he said,
'you'll want your cock out for a good wank once you see what Billy likes.'
You don't hang about when an order like that is given, and I was out of my
clothes in seconds. 'Nice cock,' said John, giving it a stroke. 'Gets hard
quickly too. Now watch. wank if you want. Can you shoot yet?' I nodded,
bright red. 'Well, squirt on him when you cum. Anywhere you like.' I
nodded, my hand already busy. 'Not too quick, son,' John said kindly,
'unless you can manage three.' 'I'll try.' 'Good lad. Now watch.'

"By this time Billy had his knees by his ears - you know how it works - and
his arse was completely hairless. Like mine, but I knew that men got hairy
arses just like they got hairy balls. I said nothing: questions could
wait. John knelt down and started to lick Billy's arsehole. I was startled
because arses were all shitty, weren't they. John reassured me. 'It's
clean, Stewart, he keeps it nice for me, don't you, Billy?' Billy didn't
reply - well, not with words. Just a sigh. After a couple of minutes
fingers went in - another surprise, but still I said nothing. More sighs
from Billy. If he was enjoying his arse being invaded this much, I thought,
it's something I'm going to try as soon as I can. 'This is the best bit,
lad, watch,' said John. He leant back so that Billy's arsehole was
visible. Billy put two fingers of each hand in his arsehole, pulling it
wide open, and I saw what I thought were his guts falling out as he
pushed. 'Fuck! Is he OK?' 'Oh yes, he loves it, trust me,' said John and he
bent down to take what was hanging out of Billy's arse in his hand."

"What was it? said Finn. Mick grinned, but said nothing.

"Part of his guts, according to John. And it didn't hurt at all. It was
about four inches long, like a tube. Well, it must have been a tube because
it was the last few inches of the pipe he shat out of. It was an angry red
colour, glistening with juices, and before you ask: no sign of any
shit. Billy was moaning as John took the thing in both hands, milking it
almost. Then he put his lips to it ..."

"Just like Finn did to mine," said Mick happily.

"... and stuck his tongue as far inside it as he could, still milking it
with both hands. Billy's moans got louder and suddenly he groaned and shot
the biggest amount of cum I'd ever seen. It went over his head - the first
squirt - and the rest splashed onto his face and chest. By this time my
hand was working overtime and I knew I was near. John saw that I was red in
the face. 'On his rosebud, Stewart, he likes that.' My cum was the biggest
I'd ever done, and when I opened my eyes I saw five good stripes of
white-hot lava criss-crossing Billy's insides, still red and glistening,
but glistening with my cum now."

"And that's what Mick's arse was like?" I asked Finn. "No, well, a
bit. Mick's rosebud didn't stick out four inches, but it looked like what
you described. Red and raw-looking, but not sore when I licked it." Mick,
silent until this point, said that it wasn't sore, "but it felt really hot
when you licked it. Next time Stewart can see what he can do." This with a
wicked grin. "I think you need an hour or two to recover," I
said. "Bollocks, Stewart, I'm ready right now. My brothers go one after
another." "Bollocks is what I'm thinking of, Mick - I want the little
beauties to have time to whip up another decent cum." Mick grinned. "Yeah,
you're right. So what will we do while they're busy down there?"

Before I could suggest anything Finn surprised me by taking Mick in his
arms, giving him a big cuddle and whispering, "just let's lie together and
enjoy being naked and spent. Stroking's a great way to feel really happy."
I was impressed: at his age I don't think I had worked out that full-on
fucking wasn't the only thing you could do with a naked teenager. I lay
back on the bed and beckoned the two of them to lie beside me. "We don't
have to do anything," I said, "but while we're all hot and cummy it would
be fun to think of what we might do when we've got our strength back. I've
told you about Billy, and what I saw hanging out of his arse - why don't
you tell us a bit more about what you and your brothers get up to, Mick?"
Finn put his oar in too. "And all the things you wish they did that hasn't
occurred to them. Stewart's taught me so much that I'd never dreamed of."
He leant over to kiss me. "In case I die of an overdose of lust, Stewart, I
love you."

We must have stayed there, the three of us wound closely together, for
ages.    Mick's breathing was slow and regular, and
when I looked I could see that he was asleep.    I
caught Finn looking at him as well and we shared a smile. There was no
hurry, after all.    Mick was with us all night and
there was another night before we reached Newcastle.

I should have known that it was too good to be true.

Suddenly there was a great banging and shouting. Our door was flung open
and a voice told us to get out on deck.    Luckily
whoever it was didn't look in or he would have seen Mick. "Quick," I said,
poking him, "something's wrong. We have to go on deck." 
  He was awake in a flash. "Fuck," he muttered, "I bet it's
bloody pirates," and less than a minute later he had flung his clothes on
and was gone. "Pirates?" said Finn.    I
shrugged. "No idea, but he's got more experience of being out at sea than
we have. As soon as we're dressed we'll find out."

When we got on deck it was a clear star-lit night. No moon; little
swell. Had it not been for another ship some distance away it would have
been perfect. We joined David and the others. "What's going on?" I
said. "Don't know, but we got called out on deck a couple of minutes
ago.    You too?"    "Mick
bolted - he wasn't seen - but he said he thought it was pirates." David
snorted. "So it wasn't the crew hearing his screams and coming to rescue
him." "Any screaming was of pure pleasure, David, as you well know. Whether
his brothers are as gentle as we were ..." I got no further as the captain
approached.

"That ship spells danger," he said. "It's about 15 minutes away and we
can't outrun it. It may be innocent, but out here we don't run risks. We
need to be ready to defend ourselves. Unless you are skilled with weapons
you'd better stay safely out of sight." "And if we're skilled, does that
mean we can be useful?" I said. The captain looked at me. "Can you fire a
rifle?" Finn told him that I was the best shooter possible, and that he
wasn't bad either. The captain smiled. "Very well, we can use an extra
couple of you. What about you other three?" Andy put his hand
up.    "I'm not bad, sir." "That's good." He turned
to Robert and David. "Are you happy with these lads joining my crew for
half an hour? It may come to nothing - that ship may be just like us, but
if not, well ..."    Robert said that they weren't
responsible for us. "Stewart is in charge of that side of things; if he's
happy then we're happy." The captain looked at me. I nodded. "We'll serve
willingly. Tell us what you want us to do."

He told Robert and David to go back below and gather all our stuff in one
place. "Just in case," he said, although what anyone would do with our
stuff if things went wrong wasn't clear. "You three, follow me."

Below decks there was a small armoury with enough small rifles and machine
guns to equip a small army. "Do you use these often?" I asked. "No, Thank
God. But enough seamen have seen how well armed we are for word to get
around, and I take good care that this isn't a secret. Now, if these
bastards are pirates what they want is the ship. They're not after the
cargo, but if it's worth selling they will keep it. 
  If not it'll go over the side.    As
will all of us, dead already if we're lucky. So if I decide it's pirates we
shoot to kill, OK?" We all nodded. "Have you killed before?" "I have, many
times," I said, "but the others haven't, though they've seen me
kill. They'll be OK, trust me, captain." He nodded. "In that case I will
rely on you. Don't shoot until I do. If I fire once then it's all out."
Choose your guns. I took a machine gun for myself and two rifles for Finn
and Andy. I wasn't happy with them firing machine guns in an enclosed space
like the ship. Machine guns kick and neither of them had any
experience. Rifles would have to do, though I didn't think that they would
be at a disadvantage. This didn't seem like a fire fight which was going to
last very long. If the other ship really was a pirate ship it was bound to
be armed with better weapons than small arms.

By this time the other ship was less than five minutes away. It was dark,
but so were we - the absence of lights meant only that each captain was
wary about the other. "What will happen?" asked Finn. The captain turned to
him. "He's the smaller ship so it will be up to me to call to him when
we're about two hundred metres apart. If he's innocent and he believes that
we are, then that's room enough for us to steer away. If not ... well
... let me worry about what happens."    He put his
hand on Finn's shoulder. "Don't worry, lad, I've done this before and as
you can see I'm not dead yet." Now, Stewart, you're in charge here," and he
went away forward.

A minute later his voice boomed through a loudspeaker. "Ahoy! We are Nimrod
bound for Newcastle. Who are you?" Silence. He called again. Again
silence. I tightened my grip. "Down," I whispered, "don't shoot unless you
can see someone to aim at. Let me do the frightening stuff with my machine
gun."

The captain called again, this time adding a warning that he would open
fire unless there was a reply within ten seconds. That produced an
immediate response. "No, no, we are peaceful. Our captain is ill. I am the
second mate." Our captain gave a hand signal and I felt the ship change
course away from the other. I relaxed. "Who are you and where are you
bound?" he shouted.

"We are a fishing boat out of Esbjerg." A voice beside me said "bollocks."
Mick had crawled along out of sight. "They don't fish this far from
Denmark. Either their captain's too drunk to steer or they're pirates." I
looked down to see Mick grinning, a gun in his hand. "Use that thing, can
you?" He gave me a dirty look. "'Course."

Two things then happened. A searchlight suddenly illuminated us from the
stern of the other ship and the captain fired at it. Less than three
seconds after that several more things happened. I let off a couple of
dozen shots into the searchlight, killing it. After the brilliant glare
everyone on both ships was blinded for some seconds, but that didn't stop a
brisk exchange of fire. "Don't shoot blindly!" I cried to my two - three,
if Mick was now part of my little command. Machine gunfire cam from two
points on the other ship, whom we could now be sure were pirates, and
therefore worth shooting back at. I raked the stern one, but without
stopping incoming fire. We four were crouched down, and I hoped that what
we were hiding behind would stop bullets.

While we were all still night-blind someone in our ship had climbed as high
as he could and fired a hand grenade onto the forward machine gun of the
pirates, and the explosion put a stop to them. The rear gun was still
firing, but now swung up to wherever the grenade had come from. That
allowed me to stand and fire another couple of dozen rounds in the right
direction. They must have been armoured, because my fire had no effect. I
ducked down and changed my magazine. "Stay down, you stupid bugger," hissed
Finn. I patted his shoulder. Mick had disappeared. "Where did he go?"
Neither Andy nor Finn had seen him crawl away. Not my responsibility any
longer: he knew the ship far better than we did, and for all I knew this
may have been a familiar process for him and Nimrod's crew.

There was a lull. The ships were now no more than 50 metres apart, moving
slowly in parallel. Each was completely dark. Sporadic fire broke out from
the forward part of Nimrod. "That's not going to do any damage," I
whispered," but it will keep their heads down. We're up to something. Keep
your eyes peeled."    Almost as soon as I'd finished
a light flare was thrown from our stern, high over the pirates. "Don't look
at it," I yelled. Two grenades were flung in quick succession from high up
ahead of us. Before they exploded there was a burst of machine gun fire
aimed high. Then two sharp explosions a second apart at the stern of the
other ship, a scream, silence. The other ship started to ease away. "That's
over," I breathed, "are you both OK?"    "Yes." "Me
too."

When the ships were 200 metres apart the pirates had swung so hard that
they were stern-on to us. A huge roar from our bows; a flash; two seconds
later a direct hit on the pirates' stern; an explosion inside her; a minute
later she was gone - nothing to be seen apart from driftwood. 
  I wasn't aware that Nimrod carried a four-inch gun with such
deadly shells.

Whistles blew; feet came running. "All OK here?" "Yes." A cry from
forward. "The boy's hurt, get the first aid."    'The
boy' could only mean Mick, but there was nothing we could do. If there was
first aid on Nimrod there must be someone trained to use it. The fewer
people clustered around Mick, wherever he was, the better. David
appeared. "Come down below. There's nothing we can do. There's bound to be
food and drink - we've all earned it."

Five minutes later we were huddled together, each with a whisky-laced mug
of cocoa and a doorstep slab of cheese sandwich from the galley. In the
circumstances the most welcome meal imaginable. Andy couldn't stop
shivering, and Robert was doing his best to comfort him. Finn and I were
more worried about Mick - there had been no news of him: was he dead, or
injured, or what?

Paul came in with the captain. Mugs were thrust in their hands. "How is
he?" growled the cook. "He's lucky to be alive, but he'll be fine in a few
days. Won't be able to wank for a while though," chuckled Paul, "his right
hand's lost three fingers. It wasn't a bullet though. It looks like a
bullet caught the edge of the crow's nest and the shard of wood flew off
and took off his thumb and two fingers. Four inches higher up and the
bullet would have hit him, and who knows what might have happened. Peter's
fixed him up and he's yelling blue murder, but that's shock. He'll
mend. It'll help that he got some of them with his grenades." He
paused. "Brave little bugger. Insisted Dad let him go up topsides to fling
hellfire down on them."

"Can we see him? Cheer him up?" asked Finn. "Unfinished business, eh, young
lad?" said Paul with a grin. "Peter's in charge of his recovery, but if he
says it's OK I think you'll see him before long." Another pause. "You might
have to ... help him, you know."

This was becoming too surreal. Clearly Paul, and presumably everyone else
on board, or at least Mick's family, knew that he had been with Finn and me
earlier. And equally clearly Paul at least wasn't bothered. I caught his
eye: he winked. I relaxed: we weren't about to be thrown overboard.

The whisky-laced cocoa was having a markedly restorative effect on us
all. The cook thrust another plate of sandwiches towards us. "More grog,
lads?" Mugs were refilled and an air of contentment filled the room. Paul
asked if that was the first time we had been under fire. Before I could say
anything Andy, assisted by Finn, had begun to give Paul and the cook a
condensed history of what had happened in Lairg. Paul eyed me
thoughtfully. "They're lucky to have you, I think, Stewart." I studied my
cocoa, at a loss for any reply. I knew how lucky I was to have them - Finn
in particular, but I was, after all, responsible for both of them.

My examination of the cocoa was interrupted by Pater's arrival. "At least
he's stopped yelling and swearing," he said as the cook shoved food and
drink towards him. "I've patched him up as best I can, but we'll need to
get someone to fix him properly in Newcastle. He'll do for 36 hours till we
get there." He turned to me. "He wants you three to see him. He's in no
state for any fun and games - yes, I know, it's no secret - so hands off
him, eh? I've given him a painkiller and it'll take effect in twenty
minutes. When he drops off one of you come back here and get me and I'll
put him to bed. On his own." This last with a broad grin.

"Go on, tell him he's a hero."


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The fun continues in Chapter 11 as we reach Newcastle.

Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped
nifty a few quid.

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