Sex Starved Seamen: 4 Stories of Sex-Pass Sailors and Shore-Based Cock Sluts

By Tosh Turner

A collection of four short stories centred on uniformed hunky, sex starved marines and seamen: Fit young guys imprisoned onboard ship for months at a time and literally climbing the walls to get laid.

Horned up, frustrated and ready for anything they can get their hands on, these guys are desperate for 'man-on-slut' action, relieving themselves the best way they can when alone at night on board ship, and then making the most of every opportunity that cums their way the moment they get a sex-pass and hit shore!

This is 'Military Muscle' hardcore at its hottest, most explicit and most riveting; definitely not the normal 'hearts and flowers' type of read, Broadminded adults and over 18's only please, due to the extreme and graphically descriptive sexual content. Looking for something special? Something that won't disappoint? You just found it!  One handed reading guaranteed. Scroll down to order now.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tosh Turner
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393127529

Book preview

Give Me a ‘Sex Pass’ Before My Balls Explode

Every time we make port, it's the same shit as before, the same excitement that rolls through the ship. The guys are talking about all the things they're going to do once they get off the ship, once they step foot on that good, old American soil and have two whole weeks to do whatever they want, to go wherever they want and not have to answer to the big, hulking commander who seems to think it's his job to make us as miserable as possible when we're out at sea. Maybe he'll get promoted during leave and we won't have to deal with him anymore. Well, I can home anyway.

More likely, I'll spend the two weeks at home and come back to find him as surly and determined to crush our morale as much as usual. Maybe he hates being on a Marine ship as much as the rest of us or maybe he's just bitter that he has no one to come home to like a lot of the guys with their families and newborn kids, the photos of which get passed around until the edges are wrinkled and someone is making a joke about winning the ugly baby contest.

Being stuck on a ship for months at a time with a bunch of guys can have its disadvantages. It can also have advantages too, but those seem few and far between, especially when the thought of shore leave comes up and the guys realize that they won't have to spend the next two weeks with the same people they've been seeing for months on end. There aren't many places to be alone in the ship, and I've come to learn that you are never really alone even when you might think you are.

Shore leave comes around every few months, though, sometimes longer. Sometimes it takes so long that I swear we're all going to die out on this godforsaken ship and no one will even notice when we don't come back.

The only one who'd really notice I was gone is my dog at my parent's house, but he's getting pretty old these days. The last time I was back, he barely wagged his tail and then flopped back down. I don't suppose he'll make it much longer.

Land ho! someone shouts from up above, although it's not as if they have to. We've known land is coming for a few days. It's been all over the radar, and Tripp likes to announce how much closer we are every time he checks. He's a young kid, though. He'll stop doing that after a while, but I will admit that I get more and more excited, more eager to get off that damn ship with each passing day.

The shore is actually in view now, and it will only be another few hours before we're finally on solid ground.

I go up to the top, pausing at the railing and gazing in at the New York City harbor. I haven't been there in a while, and I'm not really expecting anybody to be there waiting for me. My family lives down in the Midwest and they can't really afford to fly up to meet me.

I know there will be plenty of other people waiting for the boys on the ship. There will be wives and girlfriends and mothers and fathers all happy to see their sons back safe and alive. Our jobs aren't that dangerous most days, but sometimes you never know what the sea will decide to do to you or where the president might decide to send you without a bit of warning ahead of time.

I've only got a few more years before I can get out, although I have no idea what I'm going to do after that. Once you're in the Marines, it's hard to do anything else.

That's not something to worry about right now, though. Now, I can see the bay, the harbor opening up to greet the ship.

The day is nice, beautiful blue skies and a few puffy white clouds greeting our arrival as the ship steers towards the harbor.

I can't wait to have a hamburger, Tripp says from beside me, joining me at my elbow and gazing out at the shore, the tall buildings of the city jutting into the sky as if trying to tear that perfectly blue fabric and expose the mechanics underneath. That is the first thing I'm doing.

Get your land legs first, I advise him, although now I am thinking about hamburgers too, although that is certainly not my first plan once I get into the city.

Tripp barely nods, not paying attention at all, too eagerly focused on the approaching shore, practically vibrating with excitement.

I wish it was longer than two weeks.

I agree with that. Two weeks isn't long enough.

It never is, and it's always over way too soon. There isn't much we can do about that, though. We're in the Marines. You leave when they tell you to and you come back when they say so. Anything else will get you punished and not just sent to bed without any supper. The US Marines are not your mother.

All I can think about, though, as the shore looms closer and closer, is getting off that ship and as far away from everyone on it as possible.

It isn't that I don't like most of the guys I'm stuck with, it's just that being stuck anywhere where you can't even walk farther than a couple hundred feet in any direction gets old fast. The guys are generally cool and most of the time I don't want to punch them in the face, but when shore leave comes around, it's all I can do not to trample over their bodies to get off the ship first.

Maybe that's why sailors have such bad reputations. They've been deprived basic needs for months and months so once they get to land, they just go crazy. I don't plan on going crazy, but I do plan on getting my basic needs met, one way or another.

Picking up a quickie isn't hard when you're a Marine, though, especially with girls. Women just fall over themselves to sleep with you, as if that will somehow count as helping the soldiers. Or maybe it's just because we all look like we could be in body building contests, but aside from aiming guns on ships, what there is most to do is work out, and we're kept in top shape.

Picking up women is not hard at all, and most of the guys on the ship will be heading to the nearest bar to find some girl to take care of business. Me, on the other hand, while women can be appealing, I tend towards the other end of the scale and I have no desire to drop into some flea-bitten bar to hit on whatever guy happens to be there at two in the afternoon.

Tripp has been talking about some girl for months and I swear if he doesn't get some during this leave, I'm going to smack him if I have to listen to him talk about her anymore.

The shore gets closer and closer, and I can feel the excitement vibrating in the air all around me. The commander is trying to keep order, but even he knows that the prospect of getting on shore is making everyone a little crazy. We try our best not to get cabin fever, but it can be one of the most boring things some days, being stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

Straighten up there, soldier, the commander snaps at me as he passes where I'm leaning over the railing watching the water, trying not to itch out of my skin as we go so slowly.

I straighten up immediately. Yes, sir.

He may be a giant dick, but he's still the commander, so I salute and he walks on by as if he doesn't even care. He's just shouting out orders to make it seem as if he still has some element of control over the ship, but we all know he doesn't. Not as the shore looms into view, the harbor jutting out as we pass inside.

I stay straightened up in case he comes back, but I'm not listening to the sounds of people behind me, of the other orders being shouted at people. I'm just focusing on the docks coming up to meet the ship.

It takes too long for everything to get tied up, for the ship to dock and be inspected and everything that has to be done before we can leave, before we can step off and finally touch the ground we've been missing for so long. Some of the younger Marines even