A gay story: Thrown Back by the Sea Note; this story uses the analogy of an ejaculation/orgasm being a type of death.
Down. Down. The subsurface wave of turbulent water the ship created as it tumbled over pushed me down. Deeper and deeper.
I flailed about helplessly against the huge powerful weight of it, not even knowing which way was up, and then after what seemed an eternity of struggling, I couldn’t hold my breath any longer.
The precious bubbles exploded from me, blending with the churning water around me as I spun ever deeper, my mind lost to the ending of it all.
Only gradually did I become aware of them; slowly I felt something, something delicate, almost tugging at my arms. Then it was stronger, and I opened my eyes, curious. Amazed that I could feel anything still, that I was even aware, for I knew I had drowned. The water was still cloudily and turbulent, and my white shirt flapped about in front of my face, but I still caught glimpses of them. Of pale ghostly men swimming about me, their clothes in rags or gone completely. Their faces were so white they were like marble, their lips blue and their eyes milky lensed, or closed, as their hair floated about them like wild halos.
They were tugging at me, and I knew they were dragging me down to the graveyard for souls lost at sea that lies at the bottom of the ocean. I struggled briefly, but my body didn’t seem to want to obey me and simply went where they pulled it, their hands now tight on my arms as they swam below the turbulence generated by the sinking cruise liner that still rolled and struggled with the storm. Dying, but not yet dead, somewhere high above us.
When we arrived at the ocean floor, it was to enter an expanse of swaying seaweed. Giant ribbons floating up and waving in the gentle currents. They pulled me into it, and I felt the stems cling at me as if they were alive and then wrap about my limbs, catching me and finally trapping me in their grip so that I lay bent over, floating just about the forest of waving weed. My arms were pinned wide, with my torso floating up but held level by the tendrils that trapped my ankles below me.
And I understood then. The ghosts of the long-dead mariners began to nip at my body, at my thighs, my belly, my ass. Began to stroke my dick, which I realised had gone hard already as I was drowning, and nuzzling at my balls. My floating sac was caressed as I had never felt it caressed before, and the water was swirling arousingly at my hole, stirred up by the ghosts.
My ass twitched as it was rimmed by I knew not what, but it drew sighs from my open mouth. And my cock was surrounded and pressed firmly along its entire length, then released, then again compressed and released, and something dragged along its entire length, across my cockhead to the glans, and down my shaft to press on my sac. Then it rose up to the cap again and stirred at the slit there, seeming to breath into it rhythmically. Opening and stretching it, then leaving it to run down my shaft again.
Something, some dead ghost, covered me from behind and pressed at my entrance. The soft puffs of water and stroking gone now, and instead a firm hard object entered me and whoever was covering me behind began a steady plowing of my ass.
I moaned, giving myself over completely to the pleasure of this ghostly ride of the dead I was receiving. Arching back and then forward and seeing a strange burst of my own seed shooting out into the water, then another, weaker trail.
A ghostly form swam before me and a cock, pale and hard and cold as ice, was slid into my open mouth and I willingly gave it entrance. It slid down to my throat, not choking me though it was buried deep, right into my throat before it was withdrawn almost entirely and then plunged back.
I closed my eyes so as not to see the ghostly pale form before me, as both dead mariners worked me. Then icy water filled my channel as the one covering me behind jerked and came deep inside me. And icy salty water filled my throat as the one at my mouth spasmed and came deep in my throat.
The grisly, ghostly crew who had captured me all took their turns with me. I don’t know how many times, for I was past caring as I came again and again, what seemed to be hundreds of times after I was captured in the seaweed’s grasp. My death seemed to have become an endless ejaculation, such as no living man could have endured, but which I embraced and welcomed.
Then I became aware of a moving and shaking and shivering among my molesters and a murmuring in the water as if they were talking among themselves. And I opened my eyes wide and looked about. For a few moments I saw nothing, but then I saw a churning of the water far to my left with a school of flashing silver fish surrounding it and swimming rapidly towards me. The ghostly seamen seemed to shrink back behind me and under me into the forest of seaweed that lay everywhere below me.
The churning water and the school of fish arrived and surrounded me, and suddenly the water calmed and I saw what approached me at the heart of it. He must have once been a man, but he had become something else, not a ghost as the others had, he was no simple drowned seaman. This half man of the sea had his eyes covered with huge golden coins, his hair was floating weed and his body was a sleek silver form and overly large too, almost fishlike it was so long and round, with two short legs. And when he opened his mouth to speak, there seemed to be far too many teeth set in rows inside it.
“You are a prize, they say. A man who may die a thousand deaths and live again. And they have enjoyed you so they would like you to come again to this place. There are few times they dare to call me to satisfy some desire of theirs,” he said, as I observed that the school of fish that had arrived with him were worrying the dead seamen’s ghosts and taking small bites of their pale bloodless flesh.
As the ghosts dodged the fish that accompanied him, he approached me more closely, and I saw there was a flaccid dick where his short legs met his long silver body. “If you can give me a death worth having, I may free you,” he said and held his pale, white meat out to me and moved it to my lips.
I sucked and tongued him and gradually he grew and hardened in my mouth. “Ah, the heat of life,” he murmured, “Even in death it can revive us.”
He continued to grow, and his long arms reached for my head, and his sharp pointed fingers tangled in my hair. He moaned and a rush of water buffeted us. He grew too big for my mouth to hold all of him, and he pulled free, then moved behind me, and I arched back and widened my thighs, knowing what he would do. He groaned, and the sea began to tumble and swirl about us as he pressed the head of that long, still-human organ of his to my entrance and forced his way into my channel.
I cried out, my voice silent in the water, but the sea about us becoming increasingly rough as he drove deeper into me and slowly I accepted him. When he began a rhythmic pumping in and out of my ass, I rocked on the restraining bands of weed that held me and met his thrusts with my own. He was powerful and filling and deeply satisfying.
The ocean grew increasingly turbulent about us, and as his fucking pace increased I could see little but the wildly churning water that tried to tear me from me bonds. He went wild inside my ass. And one of the seaman must have taken my own organ up, for I felt it stroked wildly as the strange man of the sea stroked ever more wildly inside me. The ocean grew to a furious churning mass, and if I had not been completely taken and on the point of coming, I may have been afraid. Then I came and yelled out at its intensity, as a burst of cold fluid escaped from me and an even colder rush of liquid invaded me inside. The half man riding me jerked and writhed as he came, and I arched and spasmed and let another load loose.
Suddenly I was fighting the sea. It tossed me about in a turbulent seething mass of foaming water, and I seemed to surge through it, not knowing if I was rising up or going deeper. Until suddenly my head broke the surface and I gasped for air and swallowed air and salty water and rolled about in choppy waves.
A rope brushed my arm and I grabbed for it, and in moments I had been pulled up beside a life raft and strong hands were reaching down to pull me in.
Voices jabbered around me as I vomited salt water up everywhere, icy cold salt water that looked oddly milky on the floor of the life raft as I felt icy liquid running from my ass.
Someone lifted my head over the side of the life raft, and I vomited the cold milky liquid into the turbulent ocean. And looking down into the water I thought I saw a pair of big golden eyes on a long, silver body that was the half man of the sea with seaweed for his hair.
I knew then that I would die at sea and the half man would take me again that day when my time had finally come to join the pale ghosts for an eternal death, among the swaying ribbons of weed on the floor of the ocean.