Denny wanted some of Martinez, too.
Let the lore of the ship tell it, I was fucking and sucking on everything that was in a khaki uniform. I couldn't help that male E7 and above personnel attached to our vessel made time on their "busy schedules" to link with me, and have me either blow them, or get them to blow my back out. The rumor was partially true (Terry was breaking that cock off in me once a week, a month after we returned from deployment), but I always kept it professional on the surface, for I was advanced to E4, but I worked my ass off to get it as I endured off-duty education when we returned (pursuing a degree in business), did community service out in town (nursing home escort for residents), and earned qualifications left and right, reserved for above my paygrade. Surely Terry, Ed and Jose "pumped their octane" inside of me, but I had my own fire and desire that didn't always involve sex.
"That ambition of yours drives me up the wall. You get off watch tonight, meet me and Captain Slayton in my stateroom," Terry emailed. "I want some of that tight, little enlisted pussy of yours."
Terry being the commanding officer took "I do what I want, when I want," to another level. Captain Slayton, or Denny, was the chief engineer, and a close friend of Terry's from what I found out later, as the both of them were fellow graduates of the U.S. Naval Academy. I was on duty on a Friday, the ship already empty save the 200 or so personnel required to stay behind to endure watches and being on stand-by for any emergencies, and a few others that just loved being aboard. Terry and Denny were two of them, looking to get their rocks off before they headed home to their "happy, little lives."
"I'm not off watch until 1930," I messaged.
"1830. I told the section leader to relieve you early with someone else, for you have some other 'duties' to tend to in my stateroom," he responded.
No one would verbally question Terry, especially for personal business in his stateroom. He was bold to even say that, but he was 'Terry.'
I stood my sentry as brow watch, donning my dress whites as I reviewed I.D. cards when people entered and exited the ship. I wasn't alone, for there was a chief petty officer and two other petty officers as we all wore white, and I tried to mask my nervousness by laughing and joking with folks, as well as the fellow sentries. I knew Terry would run that cock of his inside, and impose all sorts of pleasure for me, as well as himself, but I was curious of Denny, who like Terry, had a runner's frame, but was every bit of six foot five, maybe six foot six, and from what I saw at times in uniform, had a cock that resembled a hex wrench in length (he carried a serious bulge that made me once wonder if he was "permanently hard"). I got relieved off watch and my phone went off.
"Prep good, but make sure you come to us in your dress whites. We're both super horny, and super hard right now," Terry messaged.
Of all the women, and all the fags that were on the ship, Terry was fixated with me, a YN3, a slender bottom slut that tried to prove viable to the mission. I could blame Tannebaum for turning me out, for my love for senior ranking cock, was undeniable. I went to the berthing to "prep," taking a shower and cleaning out as there wasn't anyone around to see me carrying my "bag." I freshened up, and put on my dress whites again, cover and all, then headed out of the berthing, then up a ladderwell to go in the forward direction of the ship. Five minutes later I was knocking on Terry's door. The stateroom was dark aside from his desk lamp, and his television. He came to the door wearing nothing but a robe, and it was open, showing off that long cock as it spilled precum to the floor. I looked to the side, seeing Denny at Terry's bunk, naked and that big, white cock standing up straight.