Page 12 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Unless… Is that the kind of treatment you enjoy?” he asked, his question hanging in the air for a long moment.

“I…I don’t need to be seduced, is what I mean. I like a good fuck, and I ain’t got to be clean to enjoy a man’s prick.”

His face flushed now, and he stopped still, the cloth halfway down my thigh, his hand a length from my standing cock.

“Well, now,” he said after a long moment. “That’s good to know.”

He continued, wetting the cloth every now and then, cleaning me everywhere but saving the indecent bits for the last.

“Turn around.”

“I can do that myself, if you like,” I offered.

“Oh no, I must insist,” he said with the utmost seriousness.

I turned.

“Spread your legs and bend over at the waist. Put your hands on your knees.”

I did so.

The sound of his breathing was loud in the quiet room. His hand landed softly on my arse, and he spread me open, using the wet cloth to clean me. “You’re fresher than I expected, but one can never be too careful,” he murmured as I tried not to moan at the pleasure his actions were giving me.

“Well…I always take some clean hay to the head with me. I’m not an animal.”

I thought I heard him bite back a groan.

When he’d finished, he had me straighten and face him again. I stared down at my still dirty cock and balls, then glanced up. “Left the best for last, have you?”

He smiled and changed the dirty cloth for a clean one, dipping the soft rag into the cold water, which probably had a layer of grime on the top by now. No matter. I was cleaner than before.

“Well, that’s up for debate,” he said, eying my prick and grinning with embarrassment.

“Oh? You an arse man, then?”

“You could say that. I like nothing better than to sink my prick into a soft and willing arse, and I’ve been lucky to find a few aboard this vessel.”

He followed his words by wrapping the cloth around my cock and giving it a hard stroke.

“Oh, fuck…” I groaned, my eyes rolling back in my head. The cloth was cold but the temperature didn’t matter.

I expected him to let go, but he kept stroking me, up and down, gazing at me as he did. They weren’t soft strokes either. He’d taken me at my word. The cloth soon warmed under the heat of his hand and my blood-filled prick.

I put a hand on his forearm to steady myself as I made embarrassingly vulnerable noises of pleasure. I’d been so aroused from the moment he’d commanded me on deck, and throughout the lengthy ‘inspection’, that his rough and direct treatment had an immediate effect.

“Oh! But I’m going to—” I was able to stutter, before my cock erupted over the cloth and his hand, and my body went rigid with the ecstasy of my release.

“Oh, what a good lad you are,” he said, and those words sent further waves of pleasure through me, extending the moment as I hung there with my mouth and eyes wide open, shocked and stunned at the quickness of my culmination.

“Fuck,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

He stroked me, still with the same rough movements, and I squirmed as my oversensitive flesh protested.

“Stop. Please, stop. It’s too much…”

“Is it?” he said, giving me an amused look. “Oh dear.”

My complaints didn’t have any effect, and that made me like him even more. I had to withstand this torment for another few moments. Then he sighed and reluctantly took the cloth away, wiping my spend from his knuckles and throwing the soiled cloth into the bowl.