Date: Mon, 03 May 2010 18:03:49 +0100
From: paxos@hushmail.com
Subject: Ash Cloud - Chapter Two

The Aurora, moored to the dockside, strains easily against the
lines.  Early morning sunlight sends pale ripples of light along
the hull.

The dock is starting to stir.  Boat owners emerge from hatches to
raise sleepy hands of greeting to one another.  A fat man in flip
flops and faded swim shorts waddles past, carrying a can of oil.
High up above the Amalfi coast birds of prey circle, dots against
the morning blue.

As Captain Bob emerges onto deck, shutters are going up along the
front in Positano.  A puttering moped, with a basket of bread
strapped to the back, splutters to a halt at the end of the pier.
Bob yawns and stretches; his stomach flat, his sinewy arms in a V
to the sky.  He takes a bucket and lets it down on a length of rope
into the sea, filling it.  He sluices the deck with the water and
grabs a soft brush to scrub down.  He has hardly covered half the
boat when the kettle whistles in the galley below.

Jack wakes and wonders where he is.  Sunlight from the water
reflects through his small porthole and shimmers against the roof
of his cabin.  He stretches out in the middle of the double bed.
He throws off the tangled sheet to lie naked.  He bucks and bounces.

"Toby!  You Awake?"

A muffled reply.

"Turn the kettle off!"

More muffled expletives.

Jack grabs his cock between finger and thumb and wiggles it till it
is hard.  He scoots down to the end of the bed and opens the door.
Naked he walks casually to the stove and turns the gas off.  A
shadow falls into the galley.  Captain Bob is in the hatch above,
looking down.

"Do you see that tea-pot, Jack?  By the kettle?"   Jack is looking
up at him.  "Pour the water in that would you and let it brew?
We'll have breakfast in a few.  Grab some clothes and come join me
on deck."

Jack stands naked and erect in the galley.  Captain Bob watches him
pour the boiling water then returns to his brush and bucket.

Jack slams open the door to Toby's cabin.  "Whatcha up to?"

Toby is buried under the sheets, a pillow over his head.
"Gorraway!"

Jack climbs onto the bunk and straddles his friend, his bare thighs
against the sheets, pinning him on either side.  "Wake up sleepy
head!"

"Gerroff!"

Jack is poking fingers into tickle spots.

"GERROFF!"

Jack laughs and pokes.  "Is that yer bum!?"  Toby is wriggling.
Jack stretches out on top of his friend, his cock trapped against
the sheet in the cleft of Toby's bum.

"WHAT the!"  Toby wriggles free and pushes Jack off, catching sight
of his friend's hard-on.  "You had that... fuck sake, Jack!"  Jack
sits up and grabs Toby's wrists.

"Fight?"

"NO!  You..."

Jack and Toby start to wrestle on the bed in a tangle of bare limbs
and sheets.  Jack is trying to press his cock into Toby's.  They
grunt and grip hard, come loose, grab each other again, roll and
flail.  Jack finally pins Toby flat.  Stomach to stomach.  Just the
sheet between them.  Jack's hard prick is pressed against the
flaccid cock of Toby.

"GET OFF ME!"

"Boys?"  Captain Bob is outside in the Galley.  Jack lets go and
rolls off.

"Coming Captain Bob!  Toby is just being a dick, trying to fight me
all the time!"

"Well, come on, we'll have bacon sandwiches on deck.  Throw on some
shorts.  Don't bother about showering, we'll do that later."

"Don't be a dick."  says Toby.

Smiling, Jack whispers "Your were getting hard."

"Was not."

"Was."

"Whatever."

A few minutes later, blinking against the sun, the boys come up on
deck to steaming cups of tea, fresh bread and bacon.  Sitting at a
little table behind the wheel, they look out across the marina.

Jack takes a big swig of sweet tea, then flashes a smile at Captain
Bob.  "This is MINT!"

---

Jack stands with the hose, filling the boat's water tank.  He can
feel the sun, hot on his bare shoulders.  Spray from the tap is
soaking the back of his bare legs. Water is puddling around his
bare feet.

Jack turns to see a young man, brown skin, black hair, at the tap.
Twisting.  The spray stops.  "Thank you." says Jack, not meaning it.

"You welcome."  The accent is thick.  Italian.  "Where are you
from?"

"England."

The man is squatting on his haunches next to him.  "You leaving?"

"Yes later today."

"Where going?"

"England.  Going home today."

Brown hands have taken the hose from him.  "Long way."

Jack looks into glittering black eyes and shrugs.  "Ash cloud."  He
points up.

"No is ash cloud.  Blue sky.  Look!"

Jack looks up into the bright blue sky and feels a warm hand rest
on his shoulder.

"See, no is cloudy."

The hand remains.  Water is spraying into the tank.  It seems to
take forever to fill.  A brown thumb is pressing gently on the back
of his neck.  Fingers on his collar-bone.  "Which is team you
support?  Manchester United?"

"Blackpool."

"Blackpool?  Never heard of them."

"They're doing well."

"They play Manchester United?"

"One day."

They both stand silent, watching the hose pulse, listening to the
sound from the tank.  A boat is leaving the harbour.  They watch it
as the crew stow the fenders, ducking under the boom as the sails
start to catch the wind.

"See..., is full."  Clear water is spilling out of the spout.  Jack
slips away from the hand and turns off the tap.  He unscrews the
hosepipe and starts to coil it.

"Lemme help you."  Muscles in the brown arms flex as the hose coils
and loops.  Water spills from the end over the front of the man's
shorts.  The wet material clings to the man's thighs.  To the pole
of muscle.  He lifts the heavy hose, stomach tensing.  "Where put
it?"

"Er... here."  Jack leads the way up the gangplank and opens a seat-
lid.  The green hose slides in, dripping.

The wet man is smiling at him.  Jack looks down at the rivulets of
water running down the man's legs in little hairy streaks.

"Cup tea?"

"Oh er..." Jack is at a loss.  He looks to see if Captain Bob and
Toby are in sight.  Expects to see them returning with the
shopping.  He shields his eyes from the sun.  "I'll have to put the
kettle on.  I won't be a minute."  He escapes into the cool below
decks.  The smell of wood and varnish and the bacon from breakfast.
 He looks up to see the hairy legs following him down the ladder.

"It's nice boat, no?"

"Er, yes.  Yes it is."  He is looking for the matches.  He fills
the kettle.  He slides the match-box open between trembling fingers.

"Oh!"  He drops the matches.  They scatter everywhere.

There are lips upon his hot neck, still red from the sun.

"You got nice neck, no?"

He slides down and starts gathering the matchsticks.  He is
blushing beneath the sunburn.  The man's bare feet are arched and
veined.  Black hairs along the tops of the toes.  A high instep.
Perfectly cut nails.

The man is kneeling down next to him.  His chin is in the man's
hand, being tilted back.  He cannot avoid the man's eyes.  Black
eyes smile nervously at him.  The man whispers "I like you. You
like me?"

Jack is wide-eyed.

"No worry."  The man holds his chin, his jaw.  Rubs a thumb along
it.  Stares at him.  Into his eyes.  "You beautiful."

Jack swallows.  The man stands, and pulls Jack upright with him.
The man's brown hands are around his slim waist.  The fingertips
nudge under his waistband.  The man presses down and pushes the
shorts down around Jack's knees.

Jack feels extraordinarily naked.  He clutches a handful of matches.

The man kneels.  He sees thick black hair.  The brown back.  He
feels the nose bump.  Feels his flaccid cock sucked into warmth.

His knees buckle.  Strong hands under his buttocks, behind his
legs, keep him standing.

His cock stirs as it rolls.

Twitches as it is nibbled.

Lolls as it is licked.

It slowly arches and swells.  The tongue flicks and long hard licks
along the shaft tease it.

Jack's back is against the cabin wall.  He clings to the matches as
his fists press against the woodwork.

He looks down.  The black eyes are looking up at him.  His cock is
ludicrously hard above his almost invisible cluster of blond pubic
hairs.  The man's fingers are peeling back his tight foreskin.
Hurting him until the cherry head pops out.

"Blackpool is it?"

Jack nods.

"Good team?"

"Yeah."

"I look out for them play Manchester United."

"Okay."

"You beautiful boy.  Lovely cazzo."

Looking down, he sees his cherry glisten.  The tip of the tongue
approach.  He sees and feels the lick around.  Feels it engulfed.
Feels his balls being gripped.

"What colour they wear?"

"Sorry?"

"What strip?  Manchester United red."

"Oh.  Oran..."  He strangles the end of the word and bangs the back
of his head against the wall.

He drops the matches and they scatter in a hundred heads and shafts.

---

comments really appreciated.  paxos@hushmail.com