Personal Pride
PERSONAL PRIDE
"Never gets any less breathtaking for you aye Captain?" the polecat sailor asked, panting as he pumped his dick sticking hard and erect out of his gleaming black waterproofs. His weasel lover was stood next to him with his arm around his shoulder, similarly dressed, similarly exposed and similarly stroking himself. Both were hung like treetrunks, and inbetween teasing and tormenting their captain they liked to kiss deeply
On the little stool in front of them was the barrel-chested warthog who was their captain, dressed in slick yellow rainsuit and black rubber boots of his own. Standing, he would've been close to a foot taller than them. Now sat in front of them with his own cock on show, he could only look down, glancing up at them but mostly focusing on their hard, masculine meat. Right now he was telling himself how ridiculous it was for him to be their captain when he should've been bottom rank or lower, probably licking seasalt off their rubber boots or even sucking their cocks instead of waiting humbly for their cumshot
"Aren't you going to stroke your little pecker with us Captain?" the weasel mocked, the hog nodding and beginning to tease his own flesh at last. He certainly needed it, prick stiff and throbbing. He kept his eyes focused on their thick shafts as he did it, feeling humiliated to be reminded of the three inches he had to offer. No matter how huge or proud he was at his post, the warthog was always made humble when he was reminded of his unmanly dick size. These two skinny queers were better hung than he could ever hope to be
Back home the boar's wife never once complained about his small cock. She never seemed like she wasn't pleased with him in bed, but he was always self-conscious of it regardless. Partly he was convinced she was simply being polite. He was always faithful to her on land, but at sea he'd long since reconciled himself to being comfortable with homosexual affairs. It started by accident almost. At a particular port he couldn't resist trying wearing his waterproofs to a seedy fetish bar for the evening just to see what it was like. Sitting by the bar, he found himself approached by a rat with a German accent, a long yellow slicker and black rubber boots. He'd let the guy buy him a few drinks, figuring he wasn't obliged to do anything in return for the rat's attempt at seduction. A few beers later and he was softened up enough for his new friend to begin stroking his thigh suggestively. This, ironically, hardened the warthog up again and suddenly allowing the rat to have his way didn't seem such a bad idea after all
Elsewhere, in a dimly lit hotel room, the warthog drunkenly boggled at the experience of lying next to another male and kissing him passionately, feeling his hand slide down the slick raincoat to his crotch and finding and stroking a hard, twitching cock instead of sliding his fingers into some moist pussy. Holding it in his hand was almost hypnotic, and the rat pressed his muzzle to his ear
"How well do you suck cock?" he asked bluntly as he massaged the warthog's balls
"I've uh, never tried"
"I want you to try"
The warthog made no resistance as the rat straddled his chest, feeling the heavy cock sliding into his snout and almost gagging him as he tried to suck it. The strong taste didn't bother him, he was feeling giddy about the prospect of making the raincoated male cum in his mouth as if he were watching himself do it at the time. The rat did cum, and cum hard at that, making the 'hog swallow most of it before pulling out to squirt the last down his rainjacket with a grin. After that the rat had settled back down next to him and jerked him off to add to the pool of spunk, whispering something lewd in German that the warthog's limited grasp of the language couldn't translate
The morning panic at realising he'd given another guy a blowjob, not to mention the infidelity, was quickly rationalised away as he eyed the mess left on his waterproofs. The rat had left early, casually explaining he had to get back to the boyfriend he was also cheating on, and left the warthog with the bill for the room much to his annoyance. But from then on he let himself be swayed into queer adventures when he needed release. He couldn't go without, the idea of a forty-something ship's captain retreating to his private quarters to masturbate like a teenager for six months was an offense to his pride. He didn't know if he was doing it with other guys because he was bisexual at heart or simply because he felt less guilty about cheating. He didn't really pick his lovers for their looks so much as because they were willing to join in with his fetishes or even shared them. They ranged from the cute girly mouse who loved calling him "Captain" and "Sir" when they fucked, to the rather fat and gnarled gator from his last trip who, the warthog quickly learned, considered it a waste of a good orgasm if he didn't get to piss or be pissed on by his partner during the climb. The warthog's love of slick gear came in handy then. He had to admit he found it a lot easier to open up to another man that he wanted to have sex wearing his waterproofs
His previous gay flings didn't bring up his small member either, but these two mustelids were different. From the moment he'd inadvertently inserted himself into their relationship as a little menage á trois entertainment they'd enjoyed ribbing him over his cock. The weasel especially loved to ask when they started letting boys run ships. And the captain realised he loved it. He let them lord it over him, let them do things to him that couldn't possibly be good conduct such as encouraging him to do his day's work with nothing on under the slick yellow suit. Like the mouse they called him "Sir" and "Captain" and told him to keep his cap on when they were having sex, but unlike the mouse he knew they did it to further ridicule him. Far from avoiding ending up fucking his own hand, the warthog seemed to masturbate more than ever for their amusement whilst they pleasured each other or passed a craftily hidden joint between themselves in front of him
Disciplining them was next to impossible: how could he reprimand the polecat for arrogance towards a superior officer when almost upon entering the Captain's office he was in the chair behind the desk and the boar was under the desk, wanking his sailor off furiously until he got a good sloppy bukkake over his snout? It had been a blissful cumshot though, and when the mustelid was done the boar even stood and bent over the desk with his pants around his knees as the polecat idly probed his asshole with a finger or two, casually suggesting the warthog was overdue to get a sound buggering
Now he was about to get hosed down by the two males in front of him. "I want your mouth on my cock," the polecat hissed, and the warthog obeyed. Still rubbing his own prick, he leaned forward and accepted the dripping meat as the male casually snatched his hat off his head and wore it instead. Both mustelids laughed at that, polecat now fucking the captain's snout as the captain in turn reached up to jerk off the weasel at the same time
"Yeah that's it... keep sucking it Captain," the polecat moaned in between hungrily Frenching his lover, "god you love to suck a real dick huh?
"Just like a good boy should," the weasel added with a laugh, flecks of precum splashing the warthog's cheek. He closed his eyes, thoroughly shamed and struggling to keep from popping his cork too soon as the polecat all but gagged him. He felt the male's fingers dig into his scalp, and a moment later the sailor bent over him as he cried out, hot spunk filling the captain's snout. At the same time the weasel came, both he and the captain aiming his dick down to spray cum over the smooth yellow rainjacket just as the warthog loved. He spluttered around the shaft filling his mouth as he felt his own climax arrive, some gobs of cum splashing his jacket and raintrousers, most of it flowing over his hand. He released the polecat's well-sucked prick and humbly turned his head to lick the weasel clean as well
Spent, the warthog looked down at the spunk on his fingers and dripping down his slick jacket as his two subordinates walked around him and flopped loudly onto the bunk behind him, not bothering to speak. He felt one of them casually resting the sole of their boot against his back, making no attempt to protest against it until he finally rose from the stool, made himself presentable, thanked them and left