The Portuguese Man of War

The Portuguese Man of War

It was August and the Portuguese Man of Wars had returned with the warm subtropical waters of the Northern Atlantic Gulf Stream.  For those of you not familiar with the Man of War, it is NOT just a jellyfish.  I learned this first hand when I was 16, and one of their invisible, yet malicious tentacles drifted against the inside of my thigh as I sat straddled atop my little wave board.

The Portuguese Man of War has a blue, gas-filled, bubble-body that floats.   Below the body hang long tentacles that are used to paralyze fish and other sea creatures by stinging the poor things with nasty strands filled with venom.  Even though the darned tentacles can become detached from the body, they still are able to inflict a nasty sting on innocent swimmers who don’t see the hateful things drifting invisibly in the water.

There are people far more knowledgeable in marine biology than me that can explain in detail the differences between a common jellyfish and the Portuguese Man of War.  Suffice it to say, I now believe “Man of War” sounds a lot more vicious for a very good reason.  Jellyfish floating uselessly in the ocean had stung me many times before.  My experience was that the stinging pain from one of these common ocean pests usually passed quickly, more of a nuisance than anything else.

But this time the burning sting scorched me almost immediately, and so much more intensely as I saw through the water three stringy, whip-like welts had been lashed across my thigh.  I began to cry hard in pain and furiously paddled my way to the beach shore.  The pain worsened as I got out of the water and I writhed on all fours on the wet sand.  Jennifer, my friend, who was obviously concerned why I would so suddenly splash away from her in a panic, also came ashore with me.  She freaked out, shrieking while holding both her hands over her mouth when I showed her the welts across the inside of my thigh.

My breath became short with fear as her reaction put me even further into a panic, and I desperately wanted her to shut-up!  But she managed to shout logical, yet grief-stricken instructions that we should hurry to get to the lifeguard station.  She helped me up, and I leaned against her as I tried not to limp along the way.  The warm tidal wind and bright sunshine dried the salt water on my leg and caused the pain to get excruciatingly worse.  I lost the ability to actually hold back any of my tears as pelicans flew over my head.

When we got closer to the stand I could see the lifeguard on duty was the sexy hot guy Jen and I had been fantasizing about all summer.  That momentarily made me focus on something else other than the horrifying burn that I felt had scorched my leg.  We would mock each other previously, as we waited on our boards in the gentle waves; feigning cramps or whatnot, just to pretend to have him swim out to rescue us with his tanned muscles.  I was feeling more embarrassed now though, because I actually needed his help.

He must have heard me sobbing because he turned to see us tottering in his direction before we got to him.  He jumped down with a striking, yet fluid motion, and stood with his bronzed body wide in front of us.  He was wearing his little, red, faded speedo.  His chest was gorgeous, and his arms were long, lean, and strong like a fireman’s.  His dark hair was plastered to the back of his neck, just above broad shoulders that had muscles rippling between the shoulder blades.  He looked at us through silver tinted aviator glasses, but I imagined his eyes to be Caribbean blue.

Unfortunately we were nothing like the calm, cool, and collected girls from our fantasies.  I messily opened my thigh for him as Jen stupidly screamed without any sort of elegance; “she has a bad sting!”  I wanted to flirt, but had absolutely no ability to do so in that moment.  I don’t know what was holding Jen back from it, other than being a true friend in the moment.

He knelt in front of me and put his big, warm hands on my knee and the outside of my thigh to get a good, quiet look at my sting.  I quivered a little bit when he touched me, breathing between little girl sobs.  I so wanted to kick my butt and bury my head in the sand at the same time.  But I also liked him touching me a lot.  He didn’t overreact to my nasty wound, which I found perfectly heroic.  Instead he calmly said that there had been a lot of stings lately, but that this one in fact had packed quite a wallop.

There are a lot of remedies to treat the sting from jellyfish or Man of Wars, some of them more controversial than others.  Some say hot salt water and vinegar are best.  Or even meat tenderizer, papaya juice, or ammonia.  Whatever you do, you must stop the stinging and deactivate the toxin that comes from the offending sea tentacles; and usually something hot works best.  So my hottie turned to climb the lifeguard stand to get his radio, because he said the nearest station with the treatment was about half a mile away.

As he began to climb the ladder, both Jen and I fixed our gazes on his hot little swim trunks, his butt shifting side to side in it, and gaped at what little was left to our imaginations.  We could see the fabric was stretched tightly across his buns, tracing the crease between his cheeks.  His thighs burgeoned from the little leg openings, and the lower edge of the speedo climbed a little bit so that we might have actually seen at leastpart of his butt.  But what really dropped us dead and dumb, was that we could see between his legs; and there was no mistaking at all that we could see the outline of the head of his penis surging hard against the inside of his trunks.  It was like a bullet pressing downward.  As he swung his legs to climb the stand, we bobbed our heads shamelessly to make certain that we could keep our sights just through his legs, and right on the ridge that was torturing the speedo fabric.

He turned to climb back down with his radio, so we then had a direct view of the thickening shaft tucked mercilessly in his tiny swim trunks.  He was about half hard, and we could easily see the shape of the rounded head and where it stopped at its ridge.  The rest of his shaft kind of merged from the ridge and back into his body.  It all blended together in one erotic blur through the sun-drenched speedo material.

He got ready to get on his radio, and I’m sure he noticed how we had just become so stupidly silent as we gawked at him.  I’m also sure he could see my tears but didn’t say anything about them.  He stopped short of pushing the radio button, and he put one bare foot on the ladder of the lifeguard stand to let things shift inside his trunks.  Almost as if he intended to not to stop the show, he told us that there was possibly one somewhat unconventional remedy that might be faster if we were willing to try it.

We both looked at him, basically dumb.  I was straining to fight back tears while transfixed on his package.  I could see his abdomen and bronze, statuesque chest in my peripheral view but was awkwardly distracted by his penis, which seemed outrageously confined in my opinion.

I think he sensed that we were waiting for him to say what the alternative treatment was, so he said matter-of-factly; “human urine.”  He blushed, as it even embarrassed him to suggest it.  He went on to explain that the heat helps to deactivate the toxin, with some possible benefit from any ammonia content in the urine depending on the hydration of the individual.

I blurted my immediate confusion out loud as to how I would get my urine on my own leg right then and there, and just giggled awkwardly through my tears.  Jen let out another nervous giggle, but the burn continued to sear my leg raw, and I looked uncomfortably at it.  The thought of it going on longer made me heave my breath in and out rapidly.

He asked if I was ready for that kind of treatment, and turned to get a towel from the stand.  Jen was almost silent, not believing for the moment what all was about to happen.  I nodded my head, as I just wanted the searing pain to go away any way that was possible.

He gave Jen the large beach towel; holding it up like a large privacy screen and clearly implied to her how to hold it beside him as he stood next to the lifeguard stand.  He told me to sit in the sand next to the ladder.  So I was sitting, down in front of him, with Jen behind me.  She was facing him with outstretched arms holding the beach towel to shield us from any onlookers.

I asked him what I should do next, and he told me to open my thighs so that he could see the stinging burns.  I parted my legs and looked up and saw him thickening even more in his trunks.  It turned me on to think he was getting aroused by watching me open my thighs for him.  My heart fluttered as I considered that I might soon see his penis pop free from his hot little trunks.

I had never seen a stranger’s penis before in person, and was just about to pass out from the excitement.  It momentarily made me forget the pain I was feeling.  I wondered how incredible it would be to see it, and my body vibrated in little laconic pulses as my mind didn’t know what emotion to consider first; the flight or fight reaction to my injury, or my adolescent lust going full tilt.

He reached down inside his speedo to grab himself fully in his hand, and he pulled his penis free for us to see it.  He started talking in basic terms, almost clinically; saying that he would make sure to do his best to aim well.  I definitely think I remember him smiling as he said that, like a reassuring doctor with a comfortable bedside manner.  I saw the stream of urine start to come wildly out of the little hole at the tip of his penis, and his aim was really far off at first.  I had no idea urine could feel so hot, but it started to soak my bikini bottom before he controlled the stream back down towards the inside of my thigh.

Jen giggled behind me clumsily, not knowing if it was OK to look or not; but there was no way she could keep her eyes off what was in front of her.  I felt the hot splash up against the burning skin on my leg, and he was right; the stinging almost began to stop on contact.  He asked if it was working almost exactly when I also announced that it was working.  We all giggled awkwardly together right after I answered him almost exactly at the same time he asked.

I looked up at the penis in his strong, tanned hand and got aroused watching it.  He had grown almost all the way hard now.  His urine was splashing steadily around my leg, and had streamed its way under my now hot-soaked bikini bottom, and into the sensitive folds of my labia.  The burning on my leg subsided, and had metamorphosed into a quiet tingling inside me as I squeezed my kegel muscles tightly without closing my thighs.  My eyelids fluttered dreamily, but I got my consciousness back when I noticed that the towel kind of dipped down a little bit.  I’m sure Jennifer was totally distracted by the fact that the hot lifeguard guy was almost fully hard, and couldn’t control the last several streams of his urine, which completely missed my thigh but hit me in my vagina directly.

When he was done, he wiggled his stiff penis as much as it would move, and tucked it back under his itty, bitty swim trunks.  The head peaked out at the top of the suit though, as he was now almost fully erect.  Jen and I got one last glimpse of the little hole at the tip before he took his hand and shoved it to the side and out of view.  He could clearly see us still staring at his crotch, but he told me to go wash off in the saltwater tide while making sure to avoid any more Man of Wars of course.

I masturbated that night after Jen and I got home; rubbing myself furiously.  And I have pleasured myself many more times since then remembering my Man of War sting, and how the pain was taken away.

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