Subject: 
          REP: The Captain's Log 1/2, TOS, K/S [NC-17]
    Date: 
          Sat, 14 Mar 1998 19:02:36 EST
   From: 
          Judygran <Judygran@aol.com>
      To: 
          ascem@earthlink.net




I apologize to the list moms and goddesses for 
increasing the volume of posts, but several people
told me they didn't get part 1. So I'm reposting it.
If you also need part 2, let me know.

This story is my contribution to various rant threads.
I wrote it a while ago for a group of K/S fen who were
spending an inordinate amount of time online chatting about 
the size of our Captain and First Officer's respective 
members. But it seems to fit in with recent threads.
Specifically, size and Kirk's women are addressed, 
and lubricant gets a nod. 
 
Criticism and comment are welcome and, indeed,
eagerly solicited. I tolerate flames well so don't be
afraid to send them. Posting comments to the group
is encouraged. You can e-mail me if you want, of
course.

This story contains explicit sex between two men.

Disclaimer: 

We praise thee, O Paramount; we acknowledge thee to
be the Copyright Owner. 
All the fans doth worship thee, the Studio everlasting.
******
We believe that thou shalt come to judge our infringement, 
We therefore pray thee, treat this as fair use.

 
            The Captain's Log
      Copyright 1998 by Judith Gran

     Captain James T. Kirk cradled the brandy snifter in
both hands, warming the glowing amber liquid, inhaling the
fragrant bouquet with a contented sigh. He held up the snifter
and studied the glinting liquid appreciatively. *One of Bones'
better selections,* he reflected, filing the brand name and
vintage away in his mind for future reference. He was already
feeling a little tipsy from the heady liquor. 

     Kirk leaned back in his chair, wishing his Chief
Medical Officer were there to join him. But McCoy was in
surgery, had been for the last several hours, and probably
wouldn't finish this evening. 

     Kirk prayed silently that the surgery his CMO was
performing would be successful. McCoy's competence was
without equal, but he'd never had to perform surgery that was
so ... delicate ... before. Kirk was going to have an
exceptionally unhappy crewmember on his hands if the surgery
didn't work. 

     *Thank God I have the best chief surgeon in the
Fleet,* Kirk sighed fervently. He pictured himself forced 
into the role of the French officer in *The Sun Also Rises,* 
giving the young man a condolence speech, expressing 
his regret for the supreme sacrifice he'd made for 
Federation and Starfleet. The thought made him shudder. 

     *God damn that pompous martinet of an Ambassador,
dragging me and my crew into a bloodbath of genital
mutilation*, Kirk swore silently. Involuntarily, he found
himself looking down at the good-sized bulge in his own
trousers, thankful that at least his own private parts had been
spared. All things considered, they were damned lucky that
only a single crew member had lost the family jewels before
Kirk had persuaded the religious militants to back off and let
him negotiate. 

     Still, Kirk was worried about the promising young
officer who lay in Sickbay, his romantic and reproductive
future dependent on McCoy's skill in microsurgery. Morosely,
he drained his snifter and rose automatically to refill it from
the bottle on his credenza. He hated to drink alone, but
Scotty, his other drinking companion, was pulling a double
shift tonight in Engineering. And Spock -- Kirk sighed and
shook his head hopelessly. His body flushed with a wave of
desire, heightened, he suspected, by the liquor. His errant
mind conjured up a vision of Spock,  lecturing him on the
effect of liquor on dilation of the blood vessels.

     Better not to think about his First Officer and how
much he wanted him. How much he wished he were here in
this room, not just sitting in the chair across from him or
locked in concentration over a chess board, but -- he shut the
door of his subconscious abruptly, before the wisp of fantasy
could escape. Spock hadn't come to play chess tonight, so he
was probably still at work, mopping up the details of this latest
mission. 

     Kirk wondered idly what was taking Spock so long.
He'd finished his own log hours ago.

     He had just refilled his glass and sat down again when
his intercom whistled. He pressed the button and the screen lit
up with McCoy's image, tousled but happy.  "Isaksen's fine,
Jim," his CMO grinned in obvious relief. "He's in the recovery
room now. Everything's working. I'm going to have a cup of
coffee and start on Ambassador Stasko in a few minutes."

     Kirk nodded his approval. "Good work, Bones," he
grinned and sank back in his chair, filled with relief of his own.
Try as he might, he found it hard to be as concerned about the
state of the Federation Ambassador's genitals as he had been
about his own officer's. What kind of bloody fool would sneak
away  for a *menage a trois* with *both* Prime Ministers --
the highest male and the highest female elected representatives
of their people -- and choose, as the place for their libidinous
interlude, the rival religious faction's  most sacred shrine?
Perhaps the Ambassador was unaware that he'd placed his
cock and balls at risk, but certainly he should have foreseen
being captured and imprisoned.  

     As ever, Kirk and his crew had been called in to bail
out the Ambassador and the two Prime Ministers. No one had
told the Enterprise crew how strongly the militants felt about
the violation of their shrine, and how prepared they were to
fight for the privilege of castrating their victims.  Kirk and the
landing party had beamed down to find themselves surrounded 
by a forest of sharp, sharp knives. 

     Then, after Kirk had applied his most soothing
diplomatic balm and they'd gotten the Prime Ministers out
undamaged and the Ambassador and crew member back to the
ship, Stasko had had the gall to insist that he be the first to
undergo reattachment surgery. Kirk had taken considerable
pleasure informing His Excellency that on his ship, priority in
medical treatment was dictated by medical factors, not rank or
status.

     Kirk leaned back, put his feet up, took another sip of
his brandy, and willed himself to relax. It wasn't hard--the tart,
complex liquid he swirled in his mouth was quite soothing.
He glanced down at the bulge in his pants again. Brandy was
nice, but sex was a hell of a lot better. Christ, he could use a
good lay.

     As if obeying his silent thought, his cock stiffened
inside his uniform trousers. Kirk looked at it appreciatively.
The outline in his pants left no room for doubt that he was
extremely well-endowed. "Hung like a stallion," he could
almost hear the voice of the sexy young woman he'd romped
around the bed with during his last shore leave on Erogenus
III. "Really packing." What was her name--Joy? Yes, that was
it. Joy of the million-credit mouth. He smiled as he
remembered the look of surprise and pleasure on her face
when he took his clothes off and stood in front of her, erect
and throbbing. "That's some serious wood," she'd whispered,
awed. 

     Dreamily, Kirk drifted into fantasy. He conjured up the
memories of other recent Shore Leave flings. Fondly, he
remembered the daughter of the High Presbyter of Arcadia
IV--Ciki, she had asked him to call her, knowing he couldn't
pronounce the strange combination of consonants and vowels
that made up her full name.  Being with Ciki had convinced 
him that everything they used to say back in Iowa about
preacher's daughters was true--and then some. It was Ciki
who had christened his cock with her special name for it, "the
Captain's Log."  Kirk grinned, remembering some of the
exciting things she had done with his prize member.

     Dreaming of Ciki led to fantasies of Ruth, whom he'd
met on Hyman's Planet when they stopped there to repair the
ship's mainframe computer. He seemed to have a thing about
women named Ruth. And *this* Ruth had, quite simply, the
most magnificent tits he had ever seen--or felt. Lying on top
of them was like lying on a pneumatic feather bed buoyed up
by anti-gravs. He'd always liked women with good minds, too,
and Ruth had an A-1 computer rating, just like Spock ....

     Suddenly Ruth's image was erased from his mind, to be
replaced by a vision of Spock, working industriously at the
ship's library computer. *Shit. Can't I fantasize about a
woman who doesn't remind me of Spock?*

     *Think about a blonde*, he ordered himself firmly.
Blondes had never let him down. He closed his eyes and
dreamed of Celestina, the blonde Amazon he'd met on Hubris
V. She'd towered over him, of course, but he hadn't minded
that a bit. Besides, height didn't much matter in the activities
they'd engaged in. He sighed blissfully, remembering her great
gobs of wavy blonde hair--how he'd loved gathering it up in
his hands when she lay down on top of him. *A bit of a
dominatrix, he reflected, but great God, I loved it.*

     *I suppose I ought to look at that part of my sexuality
more closely,* Kirk admitted to himself sheepishly. *That
must be why I  have ... those dreams ... about Spock ....*

     "Shit!" he groaned aloud. Couldn't he find a sexual
fantasy that didn't remind him of Spock?

     He reached down and touched his cock, trying to
conjure up a new erotic image. But his mind refused to
cooperate. His shore leave memories drifted, and he
remembered the evening he'd spent on Starbase III with that
lovely psychologist, Fern. The most empathic woman he'd
ever met. Under the spell of her sincerity and interest, he'd
broken down and confessed to her everything he felt for his
First Officer and friend. She'd encouraged him to follow his
heart. And he wanted to. She had him half-believing that
Spock returned his interest, too.

     Well, it wouldn't hurt to dream a bit, Kirk sighed to
himself. He took another sip of his brandy and surrendered to
fantasy, not of a beautiful woman this time but of the austere
Vulcan who tugged at his heart strings. 

     He pictured their bodies together. Their two
cocks--one pinkish-gold, the other greenish-dun. The
Captain's Log, he thought with a lopsided sort of mental grin,
and the First Officer's Log. Pictured the two hard rods of flesh
connecting, rubbing against each other. Matching each other
end to end.

     Giddy from the brandy, he played out the metaphor.
*The Captain and the First Officer, comparing their logs.
Putting them together, reconciling them .... whatever*. God,
how he'd love to feel that huge, hot Vulcan cock tight against
his own.
     
     He was hard now from the fantasy. Just then the sound
of the buzzer broke into his fantasies, and he jumped. 
Quelling his rampant member, Kirk got up and answered,
"Come."

     The door slid open and his First Officer stood in front
of him. Kirk smiled tentatively, embarrassed that he was still
in the grip of his erotic fantasy, but overjoyed to see his First
Officer. Spock, too, looked uneasy.

     "Captain," the Vulcan said hesitantly, "I need to
consult you about my log."

End of part 1

*****************************************************
 
     Kirk stared at his First Officer, struggling to keep his
composure. The deep voice seemed to curl around the phrase
"my log," driving all of Kirk's lascivious associations with the
word deep into his mind--and groin. An image of his friend's
cock, stiff and green, hovered before him, and it was all he
could do to keep his eyes from sinking to look at that part of
Spock's anatomy. 

     "Ah, come, in Spock," he finally said lamely, ushering
the Vulcan into the room with an awkward gesture. "What's
the problem?"

     Spock strode into Kirk's cabin and took a seat near
Kirk's desk. "I am rather uncertain how to address some of the
facts about our most recent mission," he said slowly. He was
frowning slightly and Kirk could see that he was troubled.
"Certain aspects of the situation were rather .... delicate."

     Kirk returned to the chair he'd been sitting in nearer
the credenza. Just listening to Spock's voice made his cock
stiffen and he tried heroically to make it subside, without much
effect. Clumsily, he realized he'd been inhospitable, and rose
again to offer Spock a drink. Uncharacteristically, Spock
accepted.

     "Ah -- I suppose you're concerned about how much
we should say about Ambassador Stasko's ... indiscretions,"
Kirk murmured, handing Spock a glass of brandy. 

     "Precisely, Captain," Spock nodded tersely. "I
recognize that we have a duty to report the facts, but I am
concerned that the Ambassador may not only dispute our
account, but allege that it is defamatory, as well."

     "Spock,  you're right, as usual,"  Kirk frowned, picking
up his own brandy snifter. "Stasko has shown a remarkable
ability to avoid taking responsibility for his own actions. But
that's exactly why we have to report this incident as fully as
possible."

     "The Ministry of State will do its own investigation,"
Spock pointed out, clasping his brandy snifter in both hands.
Kirk thought about the heat radiating from those hands and
found himself --irrationally--envying the glass Spock held. "It
is possible that investigation will be influenced by an interest
in protecting one of the Ministry's own officials," Spock
added, pursing his lips together. Kirk thought of those 
lips tightening around his throbbing staff. 

     *Control yourself,* Kirk ordered his cock sternly.
*This is a professional conversation with your First Officer.*
Aloud, he said, "We can reduce the likelihood of that by filing
a report that's factually unassailable. That's why I asked you to
have the Anthropology section of your department interview
as many of the participants as possible."

     "Understood," Spock nodded, but he was still
frowning slightly. "Captain ... " he said hesitantly, "I recognize
that it is not our usual procedure, but -- I believe it is
imperative in this particular situation to make certain that our
accounts of the incident are completely consistent. I would
like to suggest that we compare our logs."

     At this echo of his fantasy thought of a few minutes
ago, Kirk's internal organs dissolved into a pool of desire. All
he could think of was his own pink and gold cock and Spock's
green one, resting stiffly end to end. *Oh, yes,* he groaned to
himself, *Let's compare.*

     Keeping his face from betraying his erotic fantasies
with all the control he could muster, Kirk looked at his First
Officer quizzically. "Spock, I hardly ever even look at your
log," he reminded him. The double entendre made his groin
throb. 

     Spock took a sip of his brandy, paused briefly, and
looked back at Kirk in obvious appreciation. "Excellent
brandy, Jim," he said. It was plain from his expression that the
drink had the same relaxing effect on him as it had on Kirk.
"That is true," he continued, returning to the subject of
discussion, "however, as you know, the Captain has automatic
access to the logs of all crew members, including, of course,
my own."

     *Don't I just wish* Kirk said to himself. The throbbing
in his cock intensified. Despite himself, he could not keep his
eyes from Spock's groin. Why did he think the bulge he saw
there was distinctly larger than usual? A sad commentary on
his lustful imagination, he decided.  He crossed his legs and
tried to maintain his increasingly tenuous control. 

     "I'm sure yours is longer than mine," Kirk said. *Where
had that come from?* He listened to his voice, disembodied,
as though it had come out of nowhere. 

     Spock was looking back at him, levelly. "I see no
reason  to assume that, Captain,"  he said in his usual solemn
voice. "Perhaps our respective logs differ in detail, but apart
from that ..."

     Kirk's imagination conjured up a vivid picture of
Spock's "log" in splendid detail, including the famous double
ridges he had read so much about. With a huge effort of will,
he forced himself to get back to business and continued
calmly,

     "I've already finished my log, Spock. Would you like
to look at it before you finish yours?"

     Spock considered the idea and nodded. "I would
appreciate the opportunity."

     Thinking what he was thinking, Kirk just couldn't look
at Spock any longer. He felt as though he were loudly
broadcasting his desire for all to hear. He rose and turned to
the credenza to freshen his drink, gesturing toward his
computer. "Help yourself. It's the most recent file logged on
my terminal."

     His hands shaking with lust, Kirk opened the decanter
on the credenza. Behind him, he could hear Spock entering a
command into his terminal. As he poured a finger of brandy
into his glass, he heard the Vulcan say, "Captain, it is keyed
under your new confidential code, which I have not yet
memorized. It would be easier if you opened it and showed me
your log yourself."

     Suddenly Kirk knew, intuitively, what he had to do. He
didn't care if the desire singing in his blood had driven all
rational thought out of his brain. He knew, with the certain
instinct honed by long practice, that the time was now or
never with Spock. 

     Kirk reached down, opened his fly and let his cock
burst free. He turned around and faced Spock, erect and stiff,
letting those twenty-two centimeters of engorged flesh say
everything he was having so much difficulty putting into
words.

     Wordless, Spock rose from the desk and took a step
in Kirk's direction. He stared at Kirk's cock solemnly, almost
reverently. "You are showing me your ... log," his voice trailed
off as though he'd suddenly recognized what had been on
Kirk's mind throughout their conversation. 

     Kirk nodded, light-headed with the adrenaline surge of
risk. In a saner moment he would have said this was
foolhardy, but he knew--he *knew*--that he had done the right
thing.

     "Then I believe I should show you mine so that we can
... compare them."

     With a swift, graceful gesture Spock opened his fly,
and a hard, olive-tinted organ leaped out of his pants. It was
fully erect, as large as Kirk's and quite simply, the most
splendid thing he had ever seen. The color and the flaring
double ridges gave it a gorgeous, ornamental quality that
made Kirk ache to touch it even more.

     "Come here, Spock," he commanded, and the Vulcan
closed the distance between them in two paces. Kirk reached
out, took his shoulders, and pulled him close. He reached
down between their bodies to touch Spock's cock and his hand
met Spock's. Plainly, his First Officer had had the same idea. 

     Spock was taller than he was, and when Kirk brought
their cocks together, the tip of his organ nudged the
exquisitely hot, velvety softness of Spock's plump balls. He let
Spock tip him back on the credenza so that their cocks could
meet base to base, length for length.

     The feeling of Spock's hot, hard organ against his own
was incredible. Kirk's cock ached with sexual tension. He
looked down to view the sight, noting with absurd pleasure
that their two members were approximately the same size.
"You're twenty-two centimeters too, Spock?" he chuckled
breathlessly.

     "Twenty-two point oh four, to be precise," Spock
murmured, "As I estimate you are." 

     Kirk brought his hand back to Spock's shoulder and
urged him down on top of him. He couldn't wait for
preliminaries; he needed to come. Spock obeyed, thrust
against him hard, and their cocks exploded in a burst of pure
sensation.

     When Kirk came back to consciousness he had slid
down off the credenza and was lying on the floor, his pants a
mess, his tunic covered with semen. Spock, equally
dishevelled, sat near him. "Perhaps we would be more
comfortable if we adjourned to your bed?" Spock asked, his
voice deep and thick with pleasure.

     "An excellent suggestion, Mr. Spock," Kirk grinned,
thinking that voice could make him hard again in a minute. 

     By the time he'd pulled himself up, made for the
sleeping area, and turned down the bed covers, Spock had
procured some wet cloths from the bathroom. He laid Kirk
down on the bed, pulled his boots and pants off, and cleaned
him up expertly. Kirk returned the favor. They shouldered off
their tunics and lay down in each other's arms. Kirk was
incredibly turned on by the sight of Spock, naked. Feeling his
hot body next to his own was surely the most erotic sensation
he had ever felt. 

     Kirk tried to put his feelings into words, but words
failed him. "Spock, I've wanted you for so long," was all he
could say. "I would have said something about it before, but
I was afraid you wouldn't be -- interested."

     Spock pulled Kirk's head against his shoulder and
caressed his hair gently. "I, too, found it extremely difficult to
speak to you of my sexual feelings. I admire the risk you took
tonight."

     "Spock, nothing about it was particularly admirable--I
was just so turned on by you tonight I couldn't wait any
longer."

     They lay together quietly, touching each other,
stroking each other's bodies. Kirk reached down and cupped
Spock's genitals in the palm of his hand, noting with pleasure
that Spock was beginning to get hard again. He moved down
on the bed for a closer look. 

     "Spock, has anyone ever told you what a gorgeous
cock you have?" he asked, looking up at Spock happily.

     Spock leaned back into his pillow, his face impassive.
"Affirmative," he replied laconically.

     Kirk started in surprise. He quelled the twinge of
jealousy he felt by reminding himself that he couldn't possibly
have been the only admirer of the gorgeous Vulcan organ.
Still, he was curious. "Who?" he asked.

     Spock's featured focused in concentration, and Kirk
realized he was probably going to get a complete and literal
answer.

     "Listing the persons who have made such a statement
in reverse chronological order ..." Kirk stifled a groan. Did
Spock have to be so truthful? 

     "A young lady from Hyman's Planet whom I met when
we repaired the computers ...."

     "Ruth?" Kirk rolled over on his stomach and looked at
Spock in shocked surprise. 

     Spock nodded without a trace of embarrassment. "We
worked closely on the computer repairs, Jim, and one thing
led to another, as you are fond of saying."

     Kirk tried to keep the chagrin out of his voice.
"Anyone else?'

     Spock nodded. "Perhaps you remember the High
Presbyter's daughter on the planet Arcadia?"

     Kirk put his head in his hands. "I do indeed, Mr.
Spock. Next you're going to tell me you got it on with Joy,
that woman we met on Erogenus III?" 

     He looked up at Spock again and caught the look of
appreciation that flickered briefly in Spock's eyes. "A most
perceptive guess, Captain," Spock replied. 

     "I don't suppose she told you you were hung like a
stallion, did she?" 

     Spock shook his head calmly, and Kirk felt an
irrational surge of relief that ended abruptly when his First
Officer clarified, "The simile she used was that of an animal
found on Vulcan rather than the Terran horse."

     Stoically, Kirk told himself that Spock was simply
testifying to the good taste of the women they'd both made
love to. But it was clear that Spock wasn't finished yet.

     "Before that, the young woman who instructed us in
the native language on Canopus III."

     "The teacher? That quiet, intense woman with the
heart-shaped face?" Kirk asked, incredulous. Spock nodded.
His face was opaque, but Kirk was sure he'd caught a look of
remembered pleasure in his eyes. "Spock, I couldn't get to first
base with her," he confessed ruefully.

     Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Really? That is
most unfortunate. She has an extremely vivid imagination." 

     Kirk rolled over on his side and pulled Spock close. At
least, Spock hadn't mentioned Celestina. She'd remain his
little secret for the time being. But he'd heard enough
revelations about Spock's past erotic adventures for tonight.
Right now, his cock was aching again.

     "Spock, I certainly don't blame those women for
appreciating what you have to offer. And I won't ask you to
give up other partners--at least not yet. But I want you to
know that this--" he clasped Spock's rapidly hardening cock,
"is all I'm ever going to need sexually from now on."

     Spock hugged him tight. "I am honored that you have
chosen me. I would say the same about you--" he gave Kirk's
throbbing organ a loving squeeze, "except that I know I will
want something else, as well." His hands fell to Kirk's ass.

     A hot bolt of lust and anticipation coursed through
Kirk's body at the touch of Spock's hands on his ass. "Would
you like it now?" he rolled over on his stomach again and
raised his ass slightly to give Spock a proper view. He sensed
the Vulcan's gaze, boring into him, penetrating him as Kirk
hoped he would soon penetrate his body.

     Kirk heard Spock swallow and when the Vulcan
spoke, his voice was harsh with barely-leashed desire. "Do
you have any lubricant?" was all he said.

     "In the drawer," Kirk gestured to the bedside table,
and Spock reached over and pulled out the small tube. He
opened it, squeezed out a large dollop of satiny gel and
warmed it in his hand before reaching between Kirk's legs. 

     The feeling of Spock's touching him there was so
intense Kirk nearly came at once. He contained himself as
Spock pressed the sleek fluid into him, stroking him with
skillful fingers. He groaned with pleasure when Spock reached
into him to touch the sensitive gland at the base of his cock.
"Oh please, Spock," he moaned tensely. "Give it to me now."

     Spock mounted him, straddled him and then Kirk felt
the exquisitely hot, blunt tip of Spock's cock pressing into his
ass. He spread his legs further, wanting to be open to Spock,
wanting him in as deep as possible. "Deeper, deeper," he
panted as Spock thrust into him. The hot hard organ filled
him, stretched him to kingdom come, giving him more 
pleasure than he'd ever felt in his life. The heat of it radiated 
into him, turning his ass into jelly. 

     Spock reached down and grasped Kirk's cock in a
warmer-than-Human hand, and Kirk's pleasure was complete.
He groaned with each thrust, pleasure building and building
until they both came in the same instant.

     Spock rolled off him, gasping, and they settled into
each other's arms for the night. With his last remaining shred
of conscious thought, Kirk remembered Ambassador Stasko
and the problem that had brought Spock to his office in the
first place. "Spock, if you don't mind I'd like to wait till
tomorrow to read your log of the incident," he murmured,
giving Spock a squeeze. "Your *other* log has kind of ...
wiped me out for the night."

     "Understood Captain." Spock squeezed him back,
"But I am pleased we compared our logs, nevertheless." And
they both slept.

The End