Most Sexy Sailor Bo

Pack and I reported aboard our cruiser at about noon on Sunday. Ordinarily, I'd have had all of our professional gear loaded aboard on Friday and we wouldn't have reported aboard with our personal gear until very early on Monday morning before the ship got underway. Because we had to make the trip north up the freeway to Long Beach, where the ship was home ported, I decided to have a third member of our unit drive us to Long Beach on Sunday morning with all the gear we'd be using for that deployment. This would not only allow us to get a little extra sleep Monday morning, a day that promised to be a very long day for us already, but it pretty well insured that I'd have no problem with Pack being late and possibly "missing ship's movement".

I liked this kid personally, but he had a track record for some discipline problems during his short stint in the Navy, and that included showing up for work late an several occasions. So, this ounce of prevention was meant to save me and the command I worked for a lot of potential embarrassment as well as keeping young Pack out of some very hot water. We spent a few hours getting all our gear loaded aboard ship, having berthing assigned, and getting our temporary office (a small storage compartment ordinarily) set up and ready to operate. I let Pack go ashore that evening but made sure that I accompanied him (he'd never been to Long Beach and was totally lost) to keep him out of trouble. I introduced him to IN & OUT burgers and we caught a movie before returning to the ship to make final preparations for getting underway and getting a decent nights sleep.

Unfortunately, things didn't get off to a very fast start as far as getting previously unviewed glimpses of Corey go. I only wish I could say the same for the workload. Corey didn't turn in before I'd already gone to sleep that first night aboard ship. My experience and professionalism combined with my knowledge of what our workload (and the length of our workdays) promised made sleep my top priority ahead of catching some fleeting glimpse of Pack in his skivvies. I was sure this would be my last chance to get a full night's sleep for a couple months and I expected there would be plenty of opportunities to ogle Corey in various states of undress in the coming months. There was one bright side to waking up that first morning. I'd already showered and dressed, and was ready to leave the berthing area when I noticed that Corey was still in his rack, sound asleep. I stood beside his rack (the curtains were closed) and called his name twice, getting no reaction.

So, I drew the curtains aside and placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. The air conditioning was working well and Corey was covered with a sheet and blanket up to his chest, so I didn't get a look at anything I hadn't already seen before. Surprisingly, I had to shake him again, a little harder before I got any reaction at all. It was clear to see that even stone cold sober this kid was a heavy sleeper. He'd either neglected to bring an alarm clock or hadn't bothered to set it last night (I later learned he had forgotten to bring one). Now I understood how he'd managed to be late for work as often as he had, even though he lived in the barracks on base and didn't have a good excuse, such as traffic, for his tardiness. I actually made an excuse to rifle through my locker for a few minutes before leaving the berthing in hopes of catching a glimpse of him crawling out of the rack. It's a good thing I did, although not for the reason I had intended and hoped. Apparently Corey had drifted back off to sleep after I had waken him. I made sure he was propped up on one elbow and seemed to be wide awake before I rushed out of the berthing and up to the office. I simply had too much work to do to wait any longer for the much anticipated unveiling.

I never managed to catch Pack in the shower or see him naked for any other reason for the first week we were on board the ship together. We were working some very long hours, and because there were aspects of my job that required things Corey had to do for me as part of his job, he always finished his work a little before I could wrap things up. I suppose I could have been a jerk and insisted that he work the same long hours that I did just on principle, but that just wasn't my style. So he always managed to finish showering before I got down to berthing. I did get to see him lying in his rack or walking around in just his skivvies for the first time during that week, and that was no small accomplishment. He was a tightie whitie kind of guy and he took both aspects of that to a bit of an extreme. I don't know if his briefs were as bright as they seemed or if there was something about the fact that HE was wearing them that made them seem to almost glow.

I figured a few times through the ships laundry would take care of that. I guess I should have expected his underwear to be tight and so pleasingly form fitting considering how tightly his dungarees always fit him. This kid missed his calling when he joined the Navy instead of becoming an underwear model. Both that sexy bubble butt and that mouth watering mound in the front that were so enticingly encased in that tight white cotton belonged on billboards and in magazines. Corey would have looked extremely hot in any color or style of underwear, I am quite sure, but those tightie whities were just made for him. I considered that since all I was ever going to be able to do with this stud was "look but don't touch", that I had pretty much achieved my goal already except for the part about seeing him completely naked.

I was enjoying my little looks at Corey walking about in his briefs looking oh so sexy. The glimpses were all too brief, but they fueled my fantasies and I'd carefully jerk off to those visions of him that I'd stored away in my head. When we'd checked aboard ship, I got us the best accommodations I could. Pack was actually incredibly lucky. For those of you not familiar with the living conditions aboard Navy ships, you are assigned a rack (bed) that also serves as your primary locker space for all your personal possessions (coffin locker). The whole thing is basically a large rectangular (metal) box with a hinged lid. The box/coffin locker/rack measures about 6 feet long by 2.5 feet wide by 6 inches deep (I never actually measured and am trying to estimate based on memory). The lid has a hasp so that you could use a padlock to store your belongings securely.

There was a small lip around the top of the box (lid) upon which sat a foam mattress that was about 2 (maybe 2.5 inches thick) and that constituted your rack (the bed you slept upon. Most enlisted berthing areas on Navy ships accommodate from 50 to 150 Sailors and in these, the racks are stacked 3 high (I have seen a couple that were actually stacked 4 high). You will generally have another stack of racks attached to the trio you occupy at both ends of your rack unless you happen to occupy a rack located at one end of the aisle. There is generally a hierarchy to certain racks, roughly similar to what I've seen in prison movies concerning top VS bottom bunks. Most Sailors consider the middle racks to be the number one choice and most of them are occupied by more senior ranking personnel or by Sailors who have been living in that berthing longer than others. Bottom racks are generally the next best choice, as they are easy to get in and out of, and relatively easy to access your locker. Most Sailors do not like the top racks and they are assigned to the most junior personnel and newly arriving Sailors.

They are difficult to get into and out of, and it's difficult to see into and get things out of your locker. They can also be dangerous when the ship runs into high seas and people get thrown out of their rack at night during rough conditions. Rarely did I, as a First Class Petty Officer (the highest ranking person living in such berthing compartments), rate a middle rack because I was TAD and just had to take whatever was available, meaning a bottom or most likely a top rack. On this particular deployment I was able to secure a middle rack not only for myself, but for the Seaman (Pack) who worked for me as well. It would have been nice if the two racks we got were directly across from one another (separated by an aisle no more than 3 feet wide) but they were actually 1 set of racks apart. Pack's rack was 1 stack of racks forward of mine and on the other side of an aisle that ran "athwart ship" in addition to being on the opposite side of the aisle that ran the length of the berthing compartment. This gave me a fairly decent view into Pack's rack at night (I'd made sure that he did not have the extra curtain that blocked off the head of his rack). The worst part of the setup was actually that his head lay at the end closest to the head of my rack, but that only really mattered if/when he laid in his rack in those glorious skivvies without covering himself with sheet or blanket. I sometimes wished to have the rack directly below his, which would have been much inferior except that it would have allowed me to look right up his bare legs in the morning when he stood there rummaging around in his coffin locker wearing nothing but his briefs.

Sometime during the second week of the deployment, Pack and I started to leave the office together (thanks to me taking the time to train him further). So, I finally got several opportunities to head for the showers at the same time he did to get a look at what I'd been waiting so long to see. It was definitely worth the long wait and all the anticipation. One of the first words that comes to mind in an attempt to describe this magnificent stud is "smooth". With the exception of a very neat little pubic patch, his body was virtually free of hair except for a little covering the lower half of his legs. Even his arm pits were denuded of hair, and naturally so; not shaved. His bush was as black and curly as the hair covering his head. Pack's pecs were not well developed (he was not a gym bunny) but they suited him well and conformed well to the rest of his body. His aureoles were small and brown with small nipples that looked very suckable.

Some would have mistakenly described him as having washboard abs, but only because so many people abuse that term badly. To be more precise, Pack had abs that were flat and firm. They were mostly smooth, but vaguely showed some slight rippling when he was doing something that would involuntarily flex his abs, but they were far from the deeply cut ridges that I'd refer to as true "washboard abs". A feature that was very appealing was the way the large oval of his abdominal muscle area was framed perfectly. Apparently Pack was a sun worshipper. He had very distinct tan lines that almost made it appear that his scrumptious bubble butt actually glowed in the dark as its creamy whiteness contrasted sharply with the more swarthy complexion of the rest of his body. There was no hair visible on any part of his ass, but that crack was so tight and appeared to be also very deep as to make it impossible to tell if there was any fur lining in that sexy crevice. I particularly liked the way his ass was dimpled on the side of both cheeks. It must be virtually impossible for any Gay man to look upon that ass and not sport an instant hard on. I had to be extremely careful to keep mine hidden from him, and any others that might have been in the shower room while we showered. His cock was also delicious looking, although I was unable to determine it's length or girth since I did not get to see it in anything other than it's flaccid state. He was circumcised and he had a nice, full sack which caused his crank to drape over the top of his balls and make his limp dick point almost straight ahead. I'd say his balls were about the size of large walnuts.

I was thoroughly enjoying my frequent opportunities to ogle the completely naked Seaman Pack in the showers most nights before crawling into my rack for a few hours sleep after a long, hard day of work. I fully understood that it would be futile to expect anything more than the first class shower show I was getting and I was content to thank my lucky stars for that which I'd been receiving. "Look but don't touch" had always been the guidelines I'd had to live by on any Navy ship regarding any number of hot, studly, young Sailors. Well, one evening about midway through the deployment, I returned to the berthing a bit late after being detained on some official business with the Skipper. I figured that my luck was failing me on this date and that I'd already missed Packs sexy display of his wares in the shower. When passing his rack, I was surprised to see his curtains open and his rack empty. Seeing no one in sight, I reached up and grasped the white towel that hung next to his ditty bag (dirty laundry) hanging from the post at the head of his rack (the sign of a real boot camp - hanging his dirty laundry close to his head rather than from the other post near the foot of his rack. His towel was damp, indicating that I had indeed missed his shower that evening. Pack popped up seconds later as I was opening my coffin locker and getting ready for my nightly shower (solo). At least I got a quick glimpse of him in his skivvies as he climbed into his rack.

I bid him a good night and headed for the showers. While saying goodnight, I clumsily stumbled toward his rack and managed to covertly open a small gap in his rack curtains in the hope of being able to get a look inside his rack when I returned and crawled into my own sleeping space. When I returned to my rack, freshly showered, Pack appeared to be sleeping soundly. I crawled into my own rack and alternated lying on my back, jerking my cock, and lying face down, humping the mattress, which offered me a view inside the darkened rack where Pack lay sleeping. I couldn't see much, but just knowing he was in there fueled my sexual fantasy as I labored to achieve an orgasm that would help insure a good nights sleep. I was about to achieve my goal when my concentration was disturbed by what sounded like a brief moan coming from the direction of Corey's rack, followed by the exclamation, "Fuck!". I cautiously rolled onto my stomach to get a look at his rack just in time to see his rack light come on briefly. He quickly extinguished his light and I heard him climbing out of bed. My first thought was that nature was calling and had disturbed his sleep, then I heard him open his locker and rummage around inside. I waited long enough to make sure he wasn't just taking a quick piss, so as not to get caught, then I discreetly climbed out of my own rack and walked over toward where Pack had been sleeping.

I was wondering if he had to take a dump or if he was taking another shower in the middle of the night. A quick check of my watch indicated that we were at that time in the early morning hours between reliefs of the watch section, which meant that it was unlikely anyone in the compartment would be awake. I reached up in the dark to feel for Packs damp towel. I found something damp, but it didn't appear to be a towel. I walked on past his rack and made sure that no one else was stirring in the berthing at this late hour before returning to stop in front of Pack's rack to investigate further. His damp towel from earlier was missing, confirming that he had gone back to the shower, and now I think I understood why. The dampness I had felt was the cum soaked briefs that my studly mate had removed and draped over the top of his dirty laundry bag before heading back to the shower. I listening carefully for any sound of movement and looked over both shoulders to make sure there were no prying eyes before I scooped up this unexpected surprise. DAMN . . . the kid had shot one helluva load in his briefs . . . obviously a nocturnal emission brought on by a particularly hot wet dream, probably about his skank of a girl friend, unfortunately. Despite the copious load of jizz covering the front of his skivvies, Corey must have shot enough spunk into his wiry pubes and who knows where else on his body that he felt another shower was necessary rather than a quick wipe up and a return to la la land.

I hurriedly went back to my rack and crawled into bed with a pair of tightie whities thoroughly soaked in the jizz of my own living wet dream. I inhaled deeply the nutty aroma and ran 2 fingers through the puddle of cum. I licked my fingers clean and the thought of what I was doing and the intense pleasure of that sweet treat almost made me blow a load in my own skivvies. I wished I had time to enjoy this most precious offering in greater detail, but I was acutely aware of the danger of getting caught red handed with Pack's cum stained briefs. I returned his damp drawers to where he'd left them and just managed to crawl back into my rack before I heard him returning to "the scene of the crime". I waited a full minute (all I could bear) after Corey had settled back in his rack before I slowly and quietly started working my cock with the feel, smell and taste of that nutty load of jizz still fresh in my mind. I had to bite my pillow when I started to cum so as not to make any noise in case Pack wasn't completely back to sleep yet.

There were no more nocturnal emissions; at least none that I was aware of. There were no other interesting events to report for the rest of that deployment, although I did continue to enjoy seeing Pack strutting around in his now not quite so white briefs and completely naked in the showers several times a week. It was a very good deployment, professionally speaking, in addition to all the collateral benefits of having Corey along as part of my team. We encountered no problems in providing the services the ship required and the Skipper was extremely pleased. It looked like we would be getting a very good report from him when we got home, and I planned on giving Pack the excellent evaluation he deserved for his professional performance, which he had more than earned. He'd been well behaved, worked hard and learned even more than I thought I'd be able to teach him in two months. His favorable evaluation would have absolutely nothing to do with his studly good looks and the unexpected bonus of getting to sample his creamy spunk on that one occasion where he had so thoroughly soiled his briefs didn't even enter into the equation. I was still able to keep my professional life separate from my personal feelings. As you might understand, there is a considerable amount of anxiety and frustration associated with this "look but don't touch" lifestyle that Gay Sailors aboard ships full of hot young studs face for months at a time with no real outlet for their pent up sexual desires other than a quick and quiet jerk off in the relative privacy of their small rack, but I wouldn't have given up the experience with Pack for anything.

We had a little less than a week remaining on board the ship, and it promised to be a very easy week for us. As a reward for such a successful mission, the Commanding Officer had arranged for a port call up north in what just happens to be one of my favorite American ports. We were to get 2 days of liberty in Seattle, followed by 3 days of steaming back down the coast to Long Beach which would require little from Pack or me since the mission we were supporting was officially over. Being the responsible Petty Officer that I am, I had communicated with the Chief about the ship's schedule, and since there were no deployments waiting for our quick return and he was pleased with the initial reports on our mission, he magnanimously decided that we deserved a couple days of liberty and an easy cruise back to Long Beach for the two months of hard work we had just put in without a single day off, so we were riding the ship back to port and did not have to arrange to fly back home.

Liberty in Seattle presented some situations that I had to be aware of and address. I knew certain areas in Seattle where I might be able to get laid by some good looking local lads, but I didn't feel that I could just run off and take care of my own carnal desires as soon as we docked. Pack had never been to Seattle, and he and I had been so busy working that he'd not had an opportunity to make any real friends on the ship that he could tag along with on liberty; not that I would have trusted him to just anyone anyway. You see; Pack had a little bit of history that made liberty in a strange port a real threat to undo all of the good things he had accomplished during this deployment. The young man had a pretty heavy alcohol problem for someone so young.

I knew about this because of an incident at a party where a bunch of our junior Sailors from the unit had been partying. According to the disciplinary report I had read concerning the incident, he had drunk himself into a stupor long before the party ended and when he briefly came to, he started a fight with another member of our unit who promptly punched his lights out. The other kid got hammered pretty hard for taking advantage of his drunken state and punching out a defenseless drunk; and Pack was evaluated as having a serious drinking problem and was assigned out patient counseling. I knew that if I left Pack to his own devices or trusted him to the care of a group of Sailors that I didn't know and trust, he was likely to have a repeat offense that could land him in serious hot water and possibly even get him busted right out of the service. So, I decided that I would have to take Young Pack under my wing and escort him on liberty to make sure he stayed out of trouble. My hope was that I could get him safely back to the ship early enough to head right back out and still find some sexy local to spend tea night with.

Our first stop was at a hotel to get myself a room for the night. I explained to Corey that I always liked to get a room when the ship pulled into a liberty port so that I could enjoy the simple pleasures in life such as a nice, large and comfortable bed, a bathtub with plenty of hot water so that I can relax and soak as long as I want, and a TV that was all mine so that I can watch whatever program I want to watch. This was the gospel truth; it just didn't happen to be the whole truth. I didn't think he needed to know that I wanted to have the option of bringing some hunk back to my room later in the event that he didn't have a place we could go (I damn sure couldn't take him back to the ship and fuck his brains out). After I registered and dropped my overnight bag off in the room, we headed out to lunch. We had a terrific meal at Ivar's, my favorite in Seattle and watched the ferries coming and going. I was more than happy to pick up the tab when the bill came, and decided that this might be the appropriate time to explain the "ground rules" for today's liberty. I was sorry that I had to say anything at all, but based on Pack's previous alcohol related incidents, I felt that I had to at least let him know exactly where I stood, not so much as to hold him responsible for his actions as to put him at ease and help him enjoy himself this evening. I explained that lunch was on me and I intended to buy the first round and maybe another round or two after that to show my appreciation for the good job he had done over the past couple weeks.

I always tried to take care of my Junior Sailors on liberty since my salary was considerably higher than theirs and after a couple months at sea, I could definitely afford to splurge a little. I let Corey know that I was uncomfortable buying all of his alcohol that evening and that I felt I was already going out on a limb a little bit by just going out drinking with him and buying him any drinks at all (even though he wasn't restricted from drinking altogether). I told him that "off the record" he could drink as much as he wanted to. I also made it clear that while I hoped he'd drink responsibly, for this evening, I was NOT his superior petty officer, but just another ship mate enjoying liberty. With the clear caveat that I would be powerless to protect him if he should be considered too drunk and disorderly to get back on board the ship later, or God forbid, get involved in an incident that required a police report; I promised him that I wasn't going to count drinks and I was going to say nothing to anyone back home about whatever transpired that evening. I just wanted to make sure that he knew I only wanted him to have the good time he'd earned and that I'd do everything in my power to make sure he had a fun time and stayed out of trouble. It was still a little early to get into any serious drinking after lunch so I just showed Pack around the waterfront area of Seattle and we enjoyed the sites and sounds before we eventually stumbled upon a bar and decided to hoist a couple to celebrate the end of a long and successful time at sea.

I bought the first round, and the next couple as well. I won't tell anyone if you don't, but I actually picked up the full tab that evening. I didn't think it was fair to do anything else. If this had been any of my other Junior Sailors on liberty after doing such a great job for me, their money would have been no good in that bar, and I didn't think it was right to make Pack pay for his evening of revelry just because he had a little history of trouble when he drank. Having thought things over, I realized that if he did get into any kind of trouble related to drinking, I was going to hang right along with him for simply having been present with him, let alone buying him any booze at all, so I decided the old "In for a penny - in for a pound" rule clearly applied. Pack actually started out very well, drinking at the same pace that I was drinking. Admittedly, I'm a bit of a pantie waist when it comes to drinking alcohol. I'd never acquired a taste for beer or much of the hard stuff, and what I did drink, I tended to sip slowly. As the evening went on, I slowed down and Corey started drinking faster and faster. I'd originally thought that we'd end up bar hopping and seeing a lot more places than we did, but once Pack got a few in him, he was feeling right at home and hopping from one bar to another would have just slowed him down.

At one point during the evening, Pack returned from a trip to the head and announced that he thought he was going to get laid and asked if he could borrow my room for an hour or so because his "date" didn't have anyplace to do the dirty deed. That on top of the hour getting pretty late really threatened to derail any sexual plans I might have had for the night but I was about to reluctantly give him my room for as long as he needed it to get his jollies. A shipmate is a shipmate, right? When I asked him who his "date" was he pointed to a booth in a darkened corner of the establishment. I immediately started to chuckle and told him that if he was going to fuck that Mahoo in my bed, he'd damn sure better call housekeeping and get me a change of sheets when they were done. Pack wanted to know why I was laughing and he wanted to know what a "Mahoo" was. I told him that it was a word used in Tonga for a male who was brought up completely as a female from birth. Corey blanched at the idea and gave me a quick, "Nuh uh?" and I laughed even harder. I told him I couldn't be sure if his target of opportunity was a transvestite or just a guy in drag, but he was clearly a male. "How can you tell?" he wanted to know.

I explained that I had just been around the world long enough and in enough places to know one when I saw one, but I tried to give him a few specific pointers. I laughingly explained that there were a few things he could check, short of giving him the old Crocodile Dundee test! Besides being "butt ugly" the guy had hands that were much too large and one of the best signs was that this dude had a bigger Adam's Apple than both of us combined. "Oh gross!" he exclaimed and I thought he was going to hurl. I just couldn't resist and had to add, but you're still welcome to use the room if you want to get your rocks off that bad. Pack shot right back with one of those familiar old Sailor refrains, "I wouldn't fuck him with YOUR dick!" I just couldn't let it go yet, so I chuckled again and told him that I guess he'd just have to go back to the ship with a serious case of "blue balls" tonight. "I know he got your dick hard", I laughed. "Hell yeah, he did", Corey laughed back, "but what surprises me is that I still have one helluva bone. You'd think that finding out he was a guy would have wilted my pecker in a fucking nano second, but it didn't!" "That's too bad", I empathized, "it looks like you're just gonna have to go back to the head and do something to relieve that". "Hell No!" he shot back, "I don't jerk in public men's rooms and I don't want to interrupt my drinking schedule right now anyway. I'll just have to take care of this fucking monster when I get back to my rack later". I teased him that he'd probably pass out cold before he ever touched himself and told him that he'd better sleep on his back tonight. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious. "Because if you roll over on your stomach during the night with a hard on like that, you're liable to snap the damn thing right off". He punched my arm and said, "You're a funny fucker, aren't you", and we both shared a good laugh.

I should have stopped Corey a lot sooner, or at least slowed him down some; but I was determined to be "just one of the guys tonight". After two months at sea with this kid, I was just tired of being his fucking boss, and I just wanted nothing more than to let him have a good time. Finally, last call came around, and we each ordered "one for the road". Later when we stood up to make our way out of the bar, it was clear that I had a little bit of a buzz going. Although my pace had been very slow, we'd been at it for a long time. What surprised me more was that Pack was a lot more drunk than I realized he was getting. I mean - I knew the kid was pretty snockered, but his true condition became a lot more apparent once he'd gotten to his feet. We left the bar and initially headed for the ship. The more we walked, the more apparent it became that this kid was totally "shit-faced". I knew there was no way I was ever going to get him past the Officer of the Deck and safely back aboard ship in his current condition, so we altered course and headed toward my hotel. "FUCK!" I thought to myself, "I guess I won't be getting laid tonight either".

We encountered a couple pretty serious "hazards to navigation" along the route back to the hotel. "Man, I gotta piss like a fucking race horse!" Corey announced rather casually. Fortunately (or so I thought) we were passing by a city park at the time. I considered the possibility that the park might be off limits at that hour as some city parks in some cities are, but seeing no signs posted anywhere, we left the pavement and headed out across the grass in search of a rest room. The park wasn't all that large and after just a couple minutes we saw one of those little buildings that obviously held the facilities for men on one side and women on the other. Corey had already started to posture and make comments that indicated his need to urinate was becoming more and more desperate. When it turned out that the rest rooms had been secured for the night and the doors were locked, he started to cross his legs and grimace, looking very much like a young kid who had to go to the bathroom very badly and might not make it. I steered him toward the nearest large tree which was a good 50 yards from the out building, and it was funny to see the crazy little dance he was doing trying to hold back the damn that was about to burst at any minute. I think poor ol' Corey would have made it if he hadn't had trouble with his damn zipper. "FUCK!" he shouted! I shushed him, not wanting to draw attention, especially from any cops that might be patrolling in the vicinity, "what's wrong?" I asked. "My fucking zipper is stuck and I can't get it down and I have to PEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeee!" It was obvious that the combination of being extremely intoxicated and having to pee so badly that he was partially hunched over with his legs crossed and squirming so much wasn't helping the situation.