First Draft, Ho!

This weekend I finished the last story for my pirate anthology. You have no idea how nice that felt. I originally wanted this book ready by May but reality and work kicked that idea in the nads. As I kept missing my own deadlines, I wondered if this was ever going to be written.

Which I think is an important lesson to all you amateur hobbyist writers out there - Don't give yourself deadlines. It is good to have goals and a schedule but seriously, I beat myself up emotionally for deadlines and I am my own boss. What is up with that? You know what is a better deadline? Write it till it is good. That's your deadline.

Speaking of good, one of my original goals was to have twenty-four stories set on this pirate ship. Why twenty-four? No good reason. It just seemed like a round fat number. Around story 18, I realized that I was about out of good ideas. I had four plots that were doable, but they were not exactly exciting. I started writing a few of them before I realized that they read like filler. I was trying to reach my own self imposed goal of twenty-four stories instead of just tying it up when I was out of good stories. Don't pull a Shon and do that.

Once I decided to stop at eighteen stories, I came up with two more. For story nineteen, I recycled an old favorite of mine about a pirate named Lucky John. I rewrote it a bit and added him to the crew. I wanted to have only new stories for this book but screw it, this is a good story. It deserves a second read.

For my twentieth story, I hacked and whittled at an idea I had till it was a story as good as the other nineteen. I like it. It has an orgy. It centers on the Captain and is from her point of view, something I carefully avoided throughout the whole anthology. I like Captain Kate O'Plenty and I think you will too.

I would like to go on the record and say that my biggest regret with this anthology is that I never wrote a story for the cook of the ship. I had a few character ideas in mind but no story to go with it. BDSM cooks are a favorite of mine but in six months, I couldn't come up with an angle that brought anything new to the genre. Oh well. Maybe now that the stories are written, my brain will relax and come up with an idea.

Just because the stories are written doesn't mean they are done. I need to go back through each one and rewrite them so that all of the characters remain consistent from story to story. I also need to polish and fine tune the three sea shanties I had written and see if I have it in me to write the Pirate Code for the ship.

The funny thing is that after all this, it goes to my lucky charm proofreader, Bridget, and the real editing and rewriting begins.

In the meantime, I can start writing about another ship, this one set in space and where everyone is a Hell of a lot meaner.

The picture was drawn by Joe Gravel. The guy makes wonderful pirate sketch cards and I wanted something epic from him. He certainly delivered.

Spoiler Free Thoughts on POTC :On Stranger Tides

I saw this POTC: On Stranger Tides on opening day because I was terrified of spoilers. I am also a big fan of pirates in general and I am pretty sure I would be there on opening day even if they remade Treasure Island starring Sarah Palin. I have a fondness and some may say weakness for pirates, so I understand that I am not an unbiased person.

So I watch this movie and I had a pretty fun time. More importantly, I think I felt a sense of relief that it did not suck. I liked POTC: at World’s End when it came out but within the week, my brain started poking holes in it and I found myself wondering why a pirate movie seemed to be 90% talking with little daring action. I think relief is the best way to describe how I feel about the current movie. It was good. It did not suck. It was fun.

A few days later though, I feel like the current movie is missing something. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Jack Sparrow is awesome in his not quite the best pirate/not quite the worse pirate ever. Penelope Cruz and her astounding beauty brings a mature sex appeal that Keira Knightley never had. Iam Mcshane is hilarious as Blackbeard, playing pretty much a supernatural Al Swearengen. Geoffrey Rush is back, and I really enjoy how he may sometimes be the villain, but he is arguably a better pirate than all of them. Everything about the movie was good.

But yet, it feels to me like it lacked something.

I think it lacks the sheer surprise of the first movie. The POTC movie was a shock. A movie about an amusement ride wasn't supposed to be that much fun. Jack Sparrow was an enigma in that first movie. Now he is a favorite uncle. You are always glad to see him, but he is not the amazing pleasant surprise that he was in the first movie. You couldn't imagine Jack Sparrow ahead of time, so when you saw him, he blew your mind. He is the same character now, but now you are just happy to see him. The joy that comes from the surprise can never be recaptured.

Which is what I think is what holds this movie back. It is a sequel and even if it is as good as the first movie, it is what we come to expect. It fails because it can not possibly surprise us unless it surpasses the original. That's a tough fucking thing to do.

I've spent the past year working on a pirate anthology. I am pretty much hip deep in pirates all the time. I worried a little that I might be burnt out on pirates when I saw this movie. Instead,, I enjoyed this movie and it had quite a few bits that I wished I had written. It is a good movie. It is a fun movie. I don't think there is a single thing I would change. The mermaids alone were worth waiting for.

It just can't possibly be as good as we want it to be.

The Mermaid Question

This lovely sketch card was drawn by Joe Gravel and you can try to buy it on ebay. There is a lot to love about this image, from the crab to the pouty look on the mermaid, but it brings to mind a problem I am experiencing. I am not sure whether to include such supernatural hijinks in my pirate anthology next summer.

When one writes about male and female pirates on a ship together in the 1500's, you are essentially writing science fiction. That kind of stuff didn't happen and the kind of sexual pleasure orgy ship I am envisaging would have trouble sailing much less looting with all the fucking they are doing. Porn trumps historical accuracy in this book.

Yet I find myself holding back when it comes to adding things like mermaids and sea monsters. They are such a rich part of the lore and yet once I have mermaid sex in the book, I cross a mythical line on the deck. That would be the point where readers expect Captain Long John Cock and singing pirates.

(Pirates did sing chanties and I plan to have some in the book, but you know what I mean)

Suspension of belief in porn is a funny thing. By funny I really mean it is a pain in the ass. Perfect tits can break suspension or they can make a story. Simultaneous orgasms can make readers roll their eyes or cinch the moment in their memory for the rest of their lives. It is a question of taste, style and execution and sometimes it can be just plain dumb luck. I have written stories about clone women fighting giant lobsters and it was the improper gun safety that one reader complained about. You can't predict these things and if you try to head off every possible problem you can go insane.

Which is what makes writing such an adventure sometimes. Even when you write about zombies, witches and mad scientists, you don't have automatic license to throw in a ship swallowing whale. You have to make that judgment with every story you do. If you do include the fantastic, you have to see how it fits with the rest of the story. Just like perfect cocks and buoyant tits, they might sound great but they don't fit with everything. I wish I had a hard and fast anwser or guide to refer to but the truth is that you just start to develop a sense over time. It doesn't feel right to add mermaids to my book so I probably won't. Only you can tell if weird shit is right for your story.

Pirates however, are always okay.

Fiction: The Three Pirate Captains

Once upon a time there was a beautiful Island. It was filled with many great treasures. Oyster Bay was overflowing with pearls. The old volcano regularly belched forth not lava, but gold nuggets. The very trees themselves grew many rare and exotic spices. The wealth of the island allowed the Island King to spoil his Island Princess in many extravagant ways.

The Island Princess herself was the greatest treasure. She was the most beautiful Princess in the world. She had long black color the color of the night sky. Her breasts were as plentiful as grandest pineapple. The color of her skin was the same as rich Island chocolate. Never had such a gorgeous Princess ever been born before.

She was so beautiful in fact that her father refused to allow her to sunbathe naked in public. The last time she did; three island villagers fainted from the pure glory of it. To accommodate her father’s wishes and prevent fainting spells on the Island, the Island Princess would go to the far side of the Island to sunbathe. There she would strip down naked and stretch herself out on the pristine sand.

One day while the Island Princess was sunbathing, a terrible pirate ship came to distant side of the Island. The ship was known as ‘The Ass-Fucker’ and it was the most dreaded ship on the seven seas. It used to be captained by the great woman pirate, Bloody Penolope, but she passed away. Now she left the ship to her three sons who co-captain the ship together.

You may think it odd that three brothers would be co-captains on the same ship but you didn’t know their mother. Bloody Penelope ruled her children with an iron fist and a firm leather boot. She made all three of them swear a vow to share all treasure equally and to never lie to one another. It was on this promise that the three brothers were able to keep their ship and their successful careers as marauders of the ocean.

So when the three brothers found the wonderful island, their first thought was to plunder it equally. They could tell from their spyglasses how beautiful the island was but not until they landed on the beach did they realize just how perfect it was. Why, the sand itself was quite valuable in certain aquariums around the world!

The three pirate Captains walked on the beach and made their plans.

“I shall scout the beach to the west!” snarled Captain Big Cock Chuck.

“I shall search the forest in front of our skiff!” growled Captain Bigger Cock Dirk.

“I shall search the beach to the east!” sneered Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank.

And so the three pirates split up. Now it just so happened that the Island Princess was sunbathing in a little cove to the west of their landing skiff. The sun’s rays were baking her body to an even shade of glorious brown. The gentle waves of the ocean splashed against the fragile sands of the cove. Because it was so quiet and restful, the Island Princess could hear the swearing pirate, Captain Big Cock Chuck long before he reached her.

Because she was quite bored, she decided to see what the fuss with the pirate was. She could tell he was a pirate because he had an eye patch, a big hat and shiny buckles on his boots. Better yet, she could tell from his tight pants that he was very well armed indeed.

“Ahoy, Pirate!” the Island Princess cried.

“Holy shit,” the Captain said. “She is plum stark nakers! Who are you, lass? I am Captain Big Cock Chuck!”

The Island princess liked the sound of that name. “I am the Princess of this Island. What are your intentions here, Captain Big Cock Chuck?”

“We are going to steal all the pearls out of oyster bay! We are going to mine the gold out of your old volcano! We are going to have dirty sex with your men and womenfolk depending on the sexual orientation of our individual crewmembers!”

“Oh my!” the Island Princess said. “I assume I am to be violated as well?”

Captain Big Cock Chuck leered at her with his one good eye. “Aye! Me and my brothers will do you something special!”

The Island Princess blushed with imminent humiliation. “All three of you? How terrible!”

The Captain chuckled at her terror. His chuckles died as she crawled over to him in the sand. She got up on her knees and looked at him with her beautiful eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use me terribly right now?” the Island Princess asked.

“Uh, well, you see, I can’t,” he replied. “My brothers and I swore an oath we did. Share and share equally so help us God.”

The Island Princess leaned back. She presented her sex for his questing eyes. Her fingers played with her moist cove that was hidden between her thick bush of hair.

“Oh I’m sorry,” she said with a moan. “I thought you were the kind of Captain who knew how to turn a princess into a woman.”

Captain Big Cock Chuck looked down at her fingers. He looked down on her large heaving bosom. He licked his lips and looked at her body as she bent backwards.

“Damn the oath!” Captain Big Cock Chuck yelled. He dropped his trousers and pulled his manhood out.

“By the volcano!” the Island Princess said. “It is a big cock!” Although in truth, the Island Princess had seen bigger.

“Damn right!” he said.

Captain Big Cock Chuck dropped down on her nude body. The Island Princess happily fell on her back and opened her legs for him. She grabbed her ankles and spread herself very wide and since she was a princess, it was a very wide spread indeed.

The Captain sunk his cock into her. He was surprised when she took every inch of his monstrous cock. He was more surprised when she beamed the biggest smile at him.

“Don’t hold back on me,” the Island Princess said. “Make me a woman before your brothers have me!”

Captain Big Cock Chuck obeyed. He fucked the Island Princess on the beach like a man two years at sea. In and out, he pounded away at her sex like a cannon barrage. He watched every bounce of her magnificent breasts as he fucked. He couldn’t believe how the Island Princess kept holding on to her ankles the entire time.

“That’s royalty for you,” he said to himself. “A real lady keeps her legs open when a man is working.”

It had been so long since he had a woman all to himself, he made sure to enjoy every thrust inside her wonderful cunt. In time he finally climaxed. Captain Big Cock Chuck released his seed inside her with a pirate’s yell.

One minute later, he was fast asleep on the beach.

Now you would think the Island Princess would use this lucky nap as a chance to go back to her people. She could warn her father so they could prepare a counter-attack. She could run to the Island Witch and watch her cast a big spell to sink the pirates.

You would be wrong. An Island Princess takes care of her own problems. Especially if there is cock involved.

The Island Princess walked in the direction that Captain Big Cock Chuck came from. She found the skiff he landed on and she saw the other two sets of footprints. She decided to go into the woods first.

It wasn’t hard to track the second pirate. He chopped down bushes, pushed over slow moving monkeys and carved dirty words into the trees. Eventually she found the second Captain sitting on a fallen log and resting his one good leg. His other leg was a big firm peg leg.

The Island Princess stumbled over a branch in a very dramatic manner. She landed right in front of the pirate with her ass high up in the air. When she looked up at him, she screamed in terror.

“Ah!” she cried. “Who are you?”

“I am Captain Bigger Cock Dirk!” the pirate bragged,

“Are you going to grope my breasts and molest my mouth?” the Island Princess whimpered. “Are you going to take away my innocence with a savage fucking of my face? Are you going to make me swallow every drop?”

Captain Bigger Cock Dirk groaned. “Well, I plan to lass as soon as I take you back to my brothers. We share everything!”

The Island Princess let out a sigh of relief. “Oh goodness. I thought I was about to be disgraced by a pirate but I see now you are as tame as a land dwelling sales clerk.”

The fierce Captain let out a roar of indignation. “I’ll show you who’s tame!”

The Island Princess squealed as the Captain stood on his peg leg and pulled down his pants. Out came a kraken of cock, already engorged with lust.

“By the volcano!” the Island Princess said. “It really is a bigger cock!” Although in truth, the Island Princess had seen bigger.

Captain Bigger Cock Dirk barked a nasty laugh as he grabbed the Island Princess by the hair. He rammed his cock at her mouth at full speed. He was surprised when not only did she part her full lips for his cock, but she had no trouble taking every bit of his massive weapon. She even had enough room left over to stick her tongue out of her mouth and lick his balls!

The lusty Captain was amazed as the Island Princess didn’t need him to hold her head. She moved up and down his cock like a seaport whore working for breakfast. He reached down and grabbed a handful of her magnificent breasts. No matter how hard he squeezed, the Island Princess didn’t slow down a bit.

Captain Bigger Cock Dirk had a momentary flash of doubt. It was wrong of him to take this woman without his brothers. He realized that he should stop her now before it was too late. Unfortunately for the Captain, the Island Princess was looking up him with her big brown eyes. With his cock still in her mouth, she smiled at him.

Captain Bigger Cock Dirk climaxed like a cannon blast. His peg leg shook as he tried to keep his balance. The Island Princess clung to his cock and swallowed down every drop. He was a Captain after all.

“Oh lass, that was good,” the tired Captain said. The Island Princess helped him sit back down on the log. “You wore me down.”

Twenty seconds later, Captain Bigger Cock Dirk was snoring on the log.

The Island Princess licked his seed from her lips and went back to the beach. There she found another pirate Captain waiting by the skiff. He looked to be the most dangerous of them all. He had two hook hands and a lack of a shirt to show off the naughty tattoo of a mermaid on his chest. Like his brothers, he wore very tight pants that revealed a very impressive bulge.

“Hello!” the Island Princess called out. “Are you a friendly sailor come to sunbathe on the beach?”

The lusty pirate looked at the Island Princess’s nude body. He ran a hook through his thick beard.

“No, pretty lass!” he yelled. “I’m Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank and I will make you my wench!”

The Island Princess kept walking towards the pirate. Her hips swayed with every step on the soft sand. Her long black hair whipped behind her in the wind.

“Oh no!” the Island Princess said. “Are you going to make me wrap my big breasts around your cock till you shower me with your dirty seed?”

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank shook his head. “Nay, I have to share you with my brothers. We will wait till they get back.”

The Island Princess pouted. “You mean you won’t make me take your big cock in my mouth and suck you till you come?”

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank shook his head. “I promised my dear old mom to share and share alike.”

The Island Princess stood before him. The sun shone down on the sweat on her body and gave her a bright shine. “You mean you won’ bend me over and fuck me in the ass like a real scoundrel?”

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank bit his lip. “Well, maybe just a little bit.”

“Oh please be careful!” the Island Princess said as she threw herself over the side of the skiff. She reached behind and cupped her round ass.

“I have never been fucked there before,” she lied.

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank laughed as she dropped his pants. He took his galleon sized cock and placed it at the tip of her ass.

“By the volcano!” the Island Princess yelled. “That is a fucking big cock!” she said and this time she was telling the truth.

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank pushed inside her tight ass. The Island Princess groaned as her bottom was slowly opened wider and wider. Her toes dug into the sand and her hands clenched the wooden skiff for dear life. She gritted her teeth until he was finally completely inside her.

That’s when Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank started to fuck her. His hooks scratched her back as his hips increased to ramming speed. The sound of her ass being slapped by his thighs drowned out the roar of the ocean waves. The Captain was ruthless as he plundered her booty.

The Island Princess moaned as she was mauled in such a thorough manner. Her nipples grew hard and her sex flowed with desire. She reached between her legs and within two strokes; she climaxed with a delicate scream of passion.

The scream was enough to send Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank into bliss. His cock burst forth and filled her ass with his seed. The Captain trembled as he felt the Island Princess’s ass clench hard around his spurting member.

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank slid out of her ass with a satisfied grin on his face. He sat down beside the skiff and fell asleep in five seconds. He enjoyed a wonderful dream about a girl dancing under the moon when he was rudely awakened by a kick to the chest.

Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank awoke to see his two brothers standing before him. They both had a strange look on their faces. It was something like content on their faces.

“What are you doing sleeping with your pants down?” Captain Big Cock Chuck said.

“Arr. and why do you have that goofy look on your face?” Captain Bigger Cock Dirk said.

“I have a goofy look?” roared Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank. “You two looked like you did when we fucked our first damsel.”

Captain Big Cock Chuck’s face turned red with anger. “You fucked an Island girl by yourself! I know it!”

“Oh?” Captain Bigger Cock dirk said. “And how would you happen you know that pray tell?”

“Like you wouldn’t know!” snapped Captain Fucking Big Cock Hank. “It is as plain on your face that you know exactly what that is like!”

The three brothers squabbled and swore at each other. They got back in the skiff and rowed back to their ship, swearing never to work together again. They eventually returned to the mainland where each of them took over a major telecommunications company and they still wage their feud to this day.

As for the Island Princess, she watched all of their fighting from the trees nearby. When they had safely sailed away, the Island Princess went back to the beach and stretched out on the soft sand. She watched the sun set on the ship as it sailed away.

The Island Princess reached down between her legs and idly played with her sex. Today it was pirates, yesterday it was resort developers and tomorrow it might be armed contractors looking to liberate the island from royal rule. It didn’t matter. The Island Princess would do anything to protect her home.

Especially if it means she gets to fuck a lot.

Scarlett Drake Commission by Alex Dai

This commission was done for me by Alex Dai. I had his site bookmarked for close to a year but it wasn't till recently that I broke down and bought a commission from him. He has a naughty style that I just love. When I decided to get a commission of one of my favorite characters, I knew he would be perfect for it.

Scarlett Drake is a character of mine that is roughly 15 years old. I first used her as a villain in a superhero campaign I ran and she was everyone's favorite. She was a high tech genius with a pirate fetish. So, she had a flying galleon, a laser sword and crewmen who dressed up like pirates, but she suffered from seasickness and had an inappropriate relationship with an underage guy she called 'Cabin Boy'. My players loved her because there was something both cool and a little lame about her. She was a fangirl and she was a bad ass.

I recycled the character off and on until City of Villains came out and she was my first character for the game. She was a Robots/Traps Mastermind, which meant her crew was made of robots and she had high tech gear designed to hurt people. I lost so many hours playing her. In fact, I enjoyed her so much, that I wrote a blog told from her point of view.

When I first started Erotiterrorist, I often had no idea what to write about. The blog floundered till I got the idea to write Scarlett's blog. After writing her for a few months with literally no one reading me, I developed the semi daily discipline needed to blog. It takes a different mindset to blog and it was easier to devolp that mindset from a fictional character's point of view rather than my own. So in a round about way, Scarlett Drake is why you're reading this blog today.

Scarlett's blog was about being a supervillian. She fought other characters of my creation and hardest of all, there was no sex. Well, she had sex, but it was a very PG blog. I think I just wanted to stretch myself and at the same time, not require myself to write sex. I limited myself to just writing about crimes and fights and it was a lot of fun. Eventually though I started to feel constrained. I always wondered if I could write non-sex stories and I had proven I could but I also proved to myself that I didn't want to. After six months, I had to write erotica again.

I quit City of Heroes when I divorced but lately I have been spending a lot of time thinking about the characters I made. I don't miss the game itself, I miss the characters I made to inhabit the game. Humiliatrix, Frost Sting and Johnny Mars are all characters that I am proud of for their stories and their personalities. I am most likely going to start writing about them but I wonder about my readers sometimes. Most people know me from my normal world BDSM stories and here I am writing about mad scientists and volleyball tournaments. I wonder if writing superhero porn might be just a smidge too geeky.

Oh well. If a story pops into my head, it's not like I will have a choice.

Fiction: Lucky John and the Ladies of Port Royale

Lucky John loved Port Royale like a Spaniard loved thumbscrews. It was a very bad town for very bad men. It was a pirate town, from it's blood soaked streets up to it's four story high brothels. After a long voyage of pillage and plunder, there was no better place to spend your ill-gotten gains.

Unfortunately for Lucky John, that was yesterday. He and the rest of the crew had blown their money on beer, pussy and tobacco. Normally they would ship out when the money ran out but Captain Three-Legs was still fucking through his share of the treasure and wouldn't be done till the morning. That meant sorry poor crewmen like Lucky John had to kill time dead broke in a city of sin. That didn't bother Lucky John much. It gave him time to practice his charm.

He passed a washwoman struggling with her load of laundary.

"Excuse me Miss," Lucky John said. "Would you mind cleaning my drawers too, after you wash my cock with your mouth?"

Her arms were full but her legs were stout and healthy. She almost kicked him in the valuables but Lucky John twisted enough so that her powerful leg only bruised the shit out of his thigh.

"Right, fair enough," Lucky John stummled along.

He came across a wench with an ass so perfectly fit, The Dutch would have insured it.

"Excuse me, Miss," Lucky John said. "I just wanted to say that your arse is a pretty treasure and I wouldn't mind burying some of my own treasure in it."

The woman's ass was fine but her hands were finer. She unleashed a broadside on his cheek with the flat of her hand. Lucky John spun around from the force of the blow like a compass on Halloween.

"Right, fair enough," Lucky John said through the non stingy part of his mouth.

Battered and stumbling, Lucky John found himself outside the Shaky Plank. Coming out of the bar was the bustiest woman he had ever seen. She had tits the size of barrels and they barely stayed within her bodice.

"Excuse me Miss," Lucky John said. "If I had your twin moons to guide me, my ship would never be lost at sea."

The busty wench blinked. Lucky John leaned a little to the right so she would kick his good leg. He also closed his mouth so he wouldn't bit his tongue if she punched him.

"Thank you so much!" the top heavy lass said. "My husband said I was too fat and he ran off with some skinny bitch! What's your name?"

Lucky John slipped an arm around the busty wench and gave her tit a squeeze. "Truth be told, I am so hot and thirsty, I have forgotten my own name."

"Well let me buy you a drink," the wench said as grabbed his hip. "And you can talk about my moons some more."

Across the street sat two of Lucky John's crew mates. Young Stumpy and Bald Frank leaned against a wall, both very sober and very unhappy. They saw Lucky John come around the corner, walk up to a total stranger and slip his arm around the lass. They watched in amazement as Lucky John and the curvy wench go into a bar. Young Stumpy felt tears rise to his eye as he saw the wobbly shake of the woman's assets.

"God damn them all," Bald Frank wailed. "Lucky John always has it easy!"

Pirate Week: The End

Pirate Week draws to an end with a very pretty end provided by my wife. I hope we all learned something from this week of piracy. I hope you learned to make your own luck. I hope you can help a cabin boy fuck his first whore. I hope you found your way to the Cleavage Islands. Most of all, I hope you had some silly fun.

Pirate Week Map

Fair warning, this map is not to scale.

Fiction: The Confession of Lucky John

“Looks like your luck has finally run out, Lucky John,” Captain Mangebeard said. The crew laughed at this statement of the obvious. It wasn’t a funny joke but bloodlust can make the simplest things hilarious.

Lucky John nodded in agreement. This was pretty bad. His hands were bound behind his back, his boots were loaded with old biscuits and his pants had been doused in fish blood. This was not how he wanted to take a long dive off a short plank. As for the plank, it was already bending from his weight. Down below in the warm waters, he was pretty sure he saw the fin of a shark. The only bit of land to be seen was too far to swim to and a complete unknown even if he could get there. This was as bad as things could get but then again, they didn’t call him Lucky John just because he had never picked up the French pox.

“Come on boys,” Lucky John said. “We’re brothers of the sea. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

To read more, click Whole Post


“Forgive you?” Captain Mangebeard yelled. “You had my father’s compass stashed away in your pack! That was the only thing he ever gave me and you stole it!”

“You had my good dagger stashed in your boot!” Itchy Nuts Ned said.

“You had a bottle of good rum in your bunk, when everyone thought we had drunk the last of it a month ago!” Salty Rob said.

“You always snore and swear you don’t!” yelled Good-Ears Charlie. “What? He does and that pisses me off!”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Lucky John said. The plank creaked under his weight as he wobbled above the water. “It is clear that I have wronged you. Although we are all vicious pirates who once spent a wonderful afternoon making Spaniards die a slow death, I see now that I may have gone a bit too far.”

“That was a good afternoon,” Salty Rob said. The crew agreed.

“Right, but don’t let that pleasant memory sway you,” Lucky John said. “I have been a bad crewmate, and this certain death is a just reward. I only wonder though if you could indulge me before I meet my maker. I would like a chance to confess my sins. Although I have never sat in a pew a day in my life, I find myself getting a sudden craving for religion.”

The crew muttered among themselves. They were a band of dirty nasty cutthroats who would bugger their grandfather for a bottle of rum, but they were religious boys. A man shouldn’t die a drowning shark biting death without a chance to save his immortal soul. Besides, one day they themselves will face the Lord’s judgment and it might help their cause if they can say they once helped Lucky John save his soul.

“It’s only right,” Captain Mangebeard said. “Confess your sins, Lucky John and may God have mercy on your damned soul before he commits you to the eternal hellfire you deserve.”

Lucky John looked out to sea. When he looked back at the crew he had once called brothers, the sadness in his eyes was gone. The chance to unload all of his secrets had actually brought a smile to his sea chapped lips.

“Let’s see,” Lucky John said. “Dear Captain it is my sad duty to inform you that when last we were in Port Royale, your wife gave me a send off that I know for a fact lasted an hour longer than yours did. I know this because she said me your stamina was as long as the tiny dagger you call a cock.”

“I wouldn’t snicker if I were you, Salty Rob,” Lucky John said. “I buggered your wife too, as well as Fred’s, Tommy and Bart. They were all fine lasses but really guys, you need to spend more time with them. A kind smile and a saucy word was all that was needed to part their legs. Itchy Ned, I didn’t fuck your wife for obvious reasons, but I fucked her mouth and her ass, and not in that order.”

The crew muttered darkly but they let Lucky John continue. Despite his perilous situation Lucky John was getting into it. He bounced a little on the plank as he kept talking.

“Well, this feels good. Remember the virgin daughter of the governor we kidnapped and returned with her virtue intact? Well, she didn’t exactly go back with her treasures untouched if you get my meaning. Aye, I knew we all swore to not touch her but the pretty lass begged me seven times and I am ashamed to say I gave in seven times as well. It probably ain’t safe for you to go back to Martinique.”

“Parrot Pete? Your parrot didn’t fly away; I took him to the hat maker. There was this beautiful Spanish whore with the biggest tits you ever saw, and she wanted a hat made of feathers. I know he was your lifelong companion but by Christ I swear her tits were bigger than cannonballs. She was worth every feather let me tell you.”

“One Leg Larry, your last leg wasn’t stolen by street urchins while you were asleep like I told you. I stole your leg and used it as a dildo on a rather deep whore in Trinidad. I made her a bet I could reach her deepest waters so to speak and for winning that wager, I had her three daughters. I guess I could have cut you in for a share of the wenches but it had been two months since I fucked three wenches at one time.”

“What else? That missing cask of Amontillado? Sold it to a whorehouse in St. Kitts for an all night orgy. The pearl necklace we hung Hook Hand for stealing? I gave it to a whore in Monserrat in exchange for letting me give her another pearl necklace of a more personal sort. Oh, and the bag of emeralds? Sold to whores and I can’t quite remember who or what but rest easy boys in the knowledge that I fucked the Hell out of them.”

Lucky John stood taller despite the wobble of the plank. “This does feel good. I see why the bloody Catholics like this confessing business! What else can I remember?”

“Eric, I put my dick in your mum and I’m sorry about that because she wasn’t as nearly as good as she promised she would be.

“Manny, I am the one who shot my spunk in your fine French shirt but honestly it was a slow week of wenching so you can’t blame me.”

“Oh, and remember Dandy Dan? Well his real name was really Dana and he was a she, I swear to God. She ran off to be a pirate and kept her gender a secret. I found out her secret and I should have told you lads but damn, she had the prettiest cunt of any wench I had ever seen. I kept her to myself and we used to fuck every night in the crow’s nest. I feel really bad about that boys because she used to say she wouldn’t mind servicing the entire ship. I was a little too jealous to let her do that though and for that I am real sorry. She left when her belly began to bulge and now you know why Dandy Dan decided to dessert us when we reached Jamaica.”

Lucky John paused and looked back out to sea. “Sorry about all that. I think my soul is purged now.”

“How the fuck did you do all that?” Captain Mangebeard said. “How the fuck did you betray us, steal from us and in Dandy Dan’s case, fuck us without even a hint of remorse?”

Lucky John shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

He jumped off the plank before the crew could rush him. He sank into the water with barely a splash. Knives, spit and a cutlass fell into the water around him as the crew gave him their own version of absolution.

“See? See? That’s what I was talking about!” Captain Mangebeard yelled. “God, what a dick! I only wish we could kill him again!”

The crew muttered in agreement and went back to the business of sailing. They hoisted sails, swabbed decks and talked about that bastard Lucky John whose luck seemed to come off the sweat of other men. Some of them wondered if Lucky John had told them every sin, while the others tried to remember if Lucky John had meet their daughters, mothers and wives. All of them however wondered if there was a way to get Lucky John’s luck.

The crew was too busy to notice a certain bastard break the surface of the water. Lucky John’s rope was cut and gone, freed with the help of a hastily thrown knife. A stunned shark floated nearby, not used to having a cutlass rammed down its throat. Within an easy swim lied an island shore that was much closer now than it was before Lucky John’s speech. Confession did little for Lucky John’s soul, but it did wonders for the distance he needed to swim.

Lucky John began his lazy swim. He didn’t know anything about the island and he had no idea if he would survive the night but that was okay. Lucky John realized long ago that luck wasn’t something that happened to someone. Luck was something you took and when it came to taking, few people were as eager to take what they want as Lucky John.

Pirate Week Career Choices

Just in case you are a young man or woman debating your life path, please listen to this career advice from Tim Curry from 'Muppet Treasure Island.'



I am not embarrassed to say this song is on my daily rotation.

Pirate Week 2007 Begins!

Oh I know. It's Thursday. Special week long events don't start on Thursday, that's just crazy. Well that's just how Pirates sail. They do crazy unexpected shit all the time. Here's a hint; Pirate Week might not even last seven days. It might be short, it might go long. You never know with those crazy bastards.

For those of you landlubbers who were not around for last year's Pirate Week, let me explain it to you. This is a special time when we give in to the lusty pirate inside us all. We tell authority to walk the plank, we relish the freedom that comes from bad English and we celebrate the inherent sexiness of a class of scoundrel that has captured the imaginations of people for hundreds of years. Instead of 'Talk Like a Pirate Day', think of it more as 'Fuck Like a Pirate Till You Get Tired'. Trust me, it's more fun.

In these troubled times of endless war tours, rising gas prices, global warming and everyone running your life except YOU, we need to be pirates more than ever. We need to set our own course. We need to defy society and do what really makes us happy. We need to dress in ill-matching but fancy clothes. We need to tell a lovely wench or a pretty lad just exactly what we would like to do with them. Life doesn't always make us happy, and sometimes it takes thinking like a lawbreaking, morality free spawn of a bitch to get the courage to do the things that make us happy.

Pictured is Beth wearing a very lovely pirate outfit you can't quite see. You are however getting a closeup of Beth's mouth and her awesome biting skills. Like any good pirate, Beth knows when and how to bite down on something. She also has a well packed treasure chest. Just look at that smile. She was giggling as she pulled something sharp from her tits. That was one happy pirate. She knows what she wants and I have no doubt that she will one day get it.

What do you want to get?

Ships Sail Away But Hearts Stay Fierce

Pirate Week draws to a close. It’s time to lock up the rum, hang up the cutlasses and put the wenches’ tits back into their over flowing corsets. I thought about changing my avatar back but damn, that flag is fucking cool. I really need a life size version to hang on my wall.

Although Pirate Week is over I hope you now have a little bit of piracy in your heart. It’s not about saying ‘arggghh’ or wearing an eye patch as much as being a Pirate means you never settle for what you want. Be bold, be daring and be ruthless. Go seduce that certain someone. Go be the porn star you know you secretly are. Don’t settle for anything less than you fucking deserve. Don’t sit around waiting to be rescued, go fucking rescue yourself.

Keep that in mind as Captain Tempest raids strange ports on the Astral main with a very exhausted Cabin Boy. Remember that when Captain Jane visits some feminist wrath on the Caribbean. Think of No-Pants Wally and the little piece of paradise he carved for himself. You don’t have to take on the world, but if the world is getting in your damn way, give them Hell.

Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum.

Fiction: The Booty Lounge

Come with me on a voyage into depravity that I make every weekend. Deep in the woods of Georgia, there is a dirt road made of blood-red clay that twists and turns through an uninviting forest. There are signs posted to warn trespassers with legal violations, some tongue-in-cheek threats and on one tree, a simple skull and crossbones made of lifelike bone-white ceramic. At the end of the road, you will eventually find a two-story house made of dark wood that sports a crow’s nest on the very rooftop. Across the side of the house in gold letters repainted every month is the name of this very private clubhouse. It’s called The Booty Lounge.

Cars of all kinds and all financial capabilities are parked around the house. A pristine Mercedes sits next to a falling-apart Escort. Two hardy pickup trucks flank a dainty little sports car. A motorcycle is parked alongside a soccer mom’s SUV, while nearby a vintage Corvette sits shimmering with chrome. Rich and poor, old and young, the vehicles outside are the first clue of the wild diversity inside.

The smell hits me as soon as I walk in. I’ve been coming here for three years, and I never get used to the mixture of liquor, rope, wood, semen, meat, cunts and sweat. It soaks into me and I know from experience that it will take an hour of showering to truly cleanse it from my body. For now, though, it soaks into my clothes, my hair and into my very soul.

To read more, click Whole Post

My eyes adjust to the electric lantern light that fills the main gathering area. The walls and furniture are all made of the darkest woods we could find. A giant bar dominates one wall, stretching out to offer a seat to every man who wishes to lift a glass of rum tonight. Paintings of every sex act possible hang on the walls. Pirate paraphernalia fills the places paintings can’t go: Anchors, peg legs, flags depicting Jolly Rogers, cutlasses and anything else we could scrounge from eBay, flea markets and trend shops. It is both overwhelming and terribly inspiring.

The decorations imprint upon us, and it is reflected in our clothes. Polo shirts and slacks have no place here. In time, our wardrobes shifted to more practical and yet fantastic fare. Men wear open shirts no matter whether they have beer guts or muscular abs. Women wear skirts that are easy to lift or tight, tempting pants that beg to be ripped apart. In the dimness of the electric lanterns, we wear bright clothes decked with stripes or flashy adornments. Bandannas hold back long hair or simply collect the sweat that comes from being in a room with fifty bodies. Corsets push breasts up to be nibbled, while men wear loose shorts roomy enough for an easy grope. We dress like pirates out of fetish but also out of the same reasons pirate dressed this way. Loose clothes make for easy movement and fucking.

Smaller tables and benches dot the room. At some tables, men and women drink, talk and gamble, while on other tables, people are fucking, spanking and just making out. There is no shame here. We have had orgies, beatings and wedding nights in this room. I have watched a man take a woman’s virginity while a crowd of thirty cheered. I have seen a woman fuck a man’s ass with a monstrous dildo while another woman took pictures. We have lost all sense of modesty within this dark walls, and we look at sex as something we are either doing or watching.

For me, especially, this is true. You don’t build a place like this without every man and woman having a job to do. Tito mixes the drinks and maintains the bar. Busty Linda carves fresh paddles for us to use when we break her old ones. We all have a job to do as our price for being in the club, and my job is the hardest. I am the recorder. I watch and witness every act, and on Monday night I write it all down and add it to our secret Web site. There, our club members read and recall the decadent things they might not remember themselves because of the rum they had drunk. They read my writings and not only remember but also rekindle their lust and build their excitement ’til the next weekend, when they unleash their frantic sex drives on each other once more.

I go to the bar and request a mug of beer from Tito. He fills my mug and makes a mark of how much I drink. You can’t get a liquor license for a place like this, but you can buy liquor for a private house and make sure no one mooches too much. Tito is smiling at me, and at first, I am confused till I see that he has Evelyn on her knees behind the bar. She is sucking his cock, and I know from personal experience that she will insist on making him cum down her throat. Evelyn likes to drink, but her favorite chaser is cum.

I take my mug and wander over to Jerry and Ned. They are gambling with dice that use sexual positions instead of numbers. I sit with them but decline their offer to join. I can’t play with their stakes. They are gambling swings of the chain flogger Jerry bought. Right now, Jerry is in debt for fifty lashes with the cruel stinging chains, and Ned offers him double or nothing if Jerry can roll higher than two doggy-style fucks. Jerry licks his lips. The two men are both sadists but the chance to whip another sadist is worth the indignity of being whipped in turn. No matter who wins, I know that an ass will be fucked and that any hard feelings will be soothed by morning.

Jerry rolled double hand jobs, and Ned howled with greedy delight. I got up and patted Jerry on the back in sympathy. He flinched, perhaps already feeling the relentless lashes to come. I made a note to myself to ask him later how it felt so I could record it come Monday.

I wondered over to another table where Janice had been strapped face down spread-eagle to all four points of the compass. She was completely nude except for a red bandanna wrapped around her eyes for a blindfold. I had no idea what her husband was punishing her for tonight but when I slipped my fingers into her cunt, I found her already wet. She moaned as I finger-fucked her, and afterwards she cleaned my fingers off with her mouth.

“What was your crime tonight?” I asked.

“I dropped an entire tray of food.”

“On purpose?” I asked.

There was a pause before she said, “Yes.”

“And how many men have taken advantage of your helpless state tonight?”

“Three,” she said. Her smile was shameless.

“Would you like me to fuck you right now?”

“Yes!” she said.

I nodded and walked away. This, too, would go into my notes.

The sounds of laughter drew me to towards the buffet table. Red Yolanda, that fierce black woman with her red streaked braids, was showing off again. She had scorned tables and chairs in favor of volunteers and personal slaves to her whim. Two men were down on their hands and knees, forming her chair and dining table. A third man stood to the side, fetching her fresh mugs of rum while the heavy weights around his balls jingled. Red Yolanda herself sat in her magnificent red corset that displayed her wonderfully ample tits. She entertained the crowd that assembled around her with observations about the virility, strength and size of her lovers. She told a few scathing jokes that brought blushes to the faces of both her slaves and her listeners. I wrote down a few of those jokes in between bites of fish tacos. Truth be told, I also spent a good bit of time watching those magnificent chocolate breasts and wondering what price she would extract from me if I asked for just a minute of nuzzling.

I tore myself from Red Yolanda’s humiliation of her willing men to use the bathroom. In The Booty Lounge, there is no division of the sexes when it comes to the restrooms. There are also no doors on the stalls. Kenny was fucking a woman from behind in one of the stalls, while Ian watched casually, masturbating. I took out my cock to piss at a urinal and didn’t flinch when Ola looked over my shoulder to watch. She whispered several naughty things in my ear and laughed as my cock grew harder as I pissed. She offered to let me piss on her, but I was tapped. Don’t cry for poor Ola, though. The rum was flowing, and I knew she would get her wish from someone tonight.

Back out in the main room, Rope Master Charlie was giving another demonstration. On a real pirate ship, he would have been a master of sails and a great sailor, but here he was a teacher to us all on the proper knots to tie. The beautiful Belinda was suspended from the ceiling stark naked in a web of knotted rope. Charlie drew our attention to the mess of knots clustered around her sex and showed how every twist of Belinda’s body was forcing the knots to stimulate and arouse her.

We watched as Belinda struggled, climaxed and then struggled some more. Over and over she came ’til the ropes were soaked with her juices. Charlie stood there filled with pride, and I knew the sight of a bound woman was better than the actual sex for him. The reason Belinda struggled was that she knew this was all the fucking she would get from him.

“Tom! Where’s my fucking writer?”

I smiled and excused myself from Charlie and Belinda’s show. The captain was calling for me. I worked my way towards the back and into the captain’s quarters, where I knew he would be. It didn’t bother me to be summoned. The captain calls only when he knows there is something worth watching.

No-Pants Wally is the founder of our club, and we call him Captain with real affection. He is a madman but of the good kind. He bought this house and his vision has delighted us for three years running. No-Pants was pacing around wearing nothing but his captain’s hat and a loose-fitting vest that clung to his six foot six frame. , His foot long brown beard was stained with pussy. Of course, he wore no pants. He never did. It wasn’t that his cock was huge or particularly spectacular; it’s just that No-Pants didn’t see the point of ever having anything in the way of his cock.

Tonight, his cock was fully erect and pointing towards the sight on his bed. The massive four-poster bed was holding three beauties sharing some sort of dildo among their three cunts. The dildo was shaped like an anchor, and the women moaned as the dildo bobbed between them. Their legs had crossed over and they were engaging in some lovely Sapphic love right there on the captain’s bed.

“Have you ever seen such a sight!” No-Pants yelled. The Captain didn’t talk, he boomed. “Three sirens fucking an anchor!”

“It is truly something,” I said.

“Fuck! You’re a writer and that’s all you got!” No-Pants yelled. “My God, Tom, did you get your dick cut off? Look at that and tell me you’ll ever see this again!”

As my captain requested, I looked. One of the women was Diana, our oldest member actually. She was sixty-three with gorgeous silver hair and a wicked smile like an evil grandmother. She was a larger woman, but the weight helped make her beauty timeless. Even her extremely well-fucked pussy was struggling to contain the dildo, for she was impaled on the head of the anchor.

To her left was Jessica. That wasn’t her real name, but it was what we all called her because of her similarity to a certain pop star. She was gripping Diana’s leg for dear life as she humped against her end of the anchor. Those lovely young breasts bounced and jiggled with every thrust. She tossed her head back and let loose one of her famous screaming orgasms. It was a sound we never got tired of hearing.

Completing the circle was tiny Susan. Barely four feet tall, she was the cruelest dominant of us all. I have watched her reduce grown men to sniveling tears, so it was strange to watch her surrender her body to the bliss she was so obviously enjoying. Her immaculate black hair was over her face, almost as if it was trying to protect her mistress from being seen as the dildo-hungry slut that she was.

The three women fondled one another as much as arm’s reach would allow them. Their legs intertwined around the strange anchor dildo and each other. To see three women of such different ages, body types and sexual identities merging together on the captain’s bed just seemed right.

“Which one should I fuck?” No-Pants said. His voice caused fresh moans from the bed.

I didn’t hesitate. “Why, all of them, captain.”

“Damn right!” He took my suggestion and waded right in. I watched for a little bit and then withdrew. I had enough for my writings, and somehow I don’t think of the participants were going to be forgetting that night No-Pants Wally and an anchor fucked three women.

It occurred to me that I have seen enough. My notes would carry me through and provide enough of a log for this day. I was horny and ready to take my share.

There was a girl I had seen last week, and I sought her out. Round and curvy in all the right places, Katie was at the bar flirting with Tito. Her long brown hair was tied in a braid under a saucy little pirate hat. Her round ass peeked our from under a black miniskirt. Her ample bosom was straining against a frilly blouse that had more cleavage than material. I had seen her get fucked by five men last weekend, and I decided it was time to board her myself.

I reached for her braid and gently tugged her head back ’til my mouth was at her ear.

“I wish to fuck you, Katie. Do you surrender to my terms?”

A swallow before she answered. “Yes.”

In leather dungeons, there are formalities and negotiations to be addressed first. In even sex clubs, there are procedures of caution and seduction that must be met. Here at the Booty Lounge, we had already satisfied all the requirements needed. She surrendered to me, and for that, I would do what I wished.

I reached around and grabbed one of her breasts. My fingers squeezed ’til Katie shuddered in pain or pleasure. I suspect both. I spun her around and ripped open her blouse. She gasped in shock, but the gasp soon turned to a smile as I bent down and bit her nipples.

They tasted of sweat, liquor, wood, rope and sex, just like everything here. I took my fill and bit her breasts until my teeth marks were all over her curves. I heard whistles and cheers as I plundered the fair Katie, and my cock grew harder. Let them watch me for a change.

I came up for air and spun her around. I bent her over the bar and hiked her skirt up. There were no panties, but a small skull and crossbones tattoo did smile at me from her ass. She spread her legs for me without being asked just like a good slut. A moment later my cock was inside her. I swear it was the slickest pussy I had ever entered, but then, aren’t all cunts at the Booty Lounge that way?

We fucked. Well, I fucked her. Just because it amused me, I pressed her head down to the bar, knowing that Tito never cleans the bar till the morning. It made me harder to know that her face and tits were soaking in spilled rum, beer, cunt juice and semen. Katie didn’t struggle at all, and considering how tightly her cunt squeezed around my saber, I’d say she liked it.

Frustration builds when you watch debauchery all night long. Frustration, as well as delight and pure excitement, swell with us as we engage in our secret place away from the eyes of the world. It pushes us to be bolder, to take what we desire, and it encourages us some nights to just fuck the shit out of another body. My thrusts were like those of an animal. There was no art or technique, just the pounding of desire. I fucked Katie on the dirty bar of a very dirty club while dirty men and women looked on.

Katie climaxed. She reached behind and grabbed my shirt to hold onto while she came. The bar muffled her cries, but I could tell by how tightly she pulled me into her that she wanted more. No matter which end of the fucking, spanking or degradation one finds oneself on, we all want more.

I came in her cunt. The orgasm made me a little weak in the knees, but eager Katie held me up with her grip on my shirt. I cried out my climax, and thirty people returned my cry with cheers of their own.

When I pulled out, she stayed slumped over the bar. I grabbed her by the braid and pulled her to her feet. The look of lust and satisfaction on her face was going to earn her a poem in the morning.

“That was great,” she said.

“We’re not done,” I said. Her eyes sparkled with the promise of more pleasures. The beautiful Katie and I were just getting started tonight. There were paddles, food , blowjobs and threesomes to be had, followed by a long nap in a cozy hammock till we recharged enough to fuck tomorrow. Only on Monday would we slink back to our lives and feign normality ’til we met again on Friday. Such debauchery can never last, and we all know that one day the Booty Lounge will close its doors, and we will be stuck in your world of boring bedrooms, prudish bars and rule-ridden leather dungeons.

But for now, with Katie’s hair in my hand, her cunt still slick with juices and my teeth on a nipple, it’s a pirate’s life for me.

Half Nekked Thursday Pirate Guest Treasure Chests

My own HNT was lost in the chaos of getting my wife home after her accident. Luckily a reader sent me this delightful picture to brighten my day. Arrrggg, that is a chest worth owning. Everytime I see that picture it makes me smile.



Pirate Week HNT apparently is about me raiding other people's assets for my posts. Pirate Barbie volunteered her services in exchange for a teaspoon of rum.



Once the rum got flowing, things got out of hand and well, click Whole Post to see what I mean.

Ask Pirate Barbie

Ahoy! I'm Pirate Barbie. I'll be spending the day with you while Shon goes to the pool and leers at Stay-At-Home-Apartment Moms in bikinis. Below you'll find some smut that Shon promised you. I don't see the appeal. I mean Amaya is hot and what she does today is very naughty, but I prefer my porn to have more pirates and strap-ons. Oh well.

Since I'm minding the blog today, ask me anything. I'll give love advice, tell you the best way to scrape barnacles off your ships or tell you where the best rum is in Tortuga. We'll sing a few songs and when someone gets drunk enough, we'll strip them and have our ways with them! So go ahead me hearties, ask away.

Fiction: Duel

It was a bad day for the crew-sisters of the Angry Cunt. Christ’s balls, it was a bad day for me. This morning a Dutch sloop loaded with pirate hunters and chainshot had killed half the crew and torn the hell out of the sails I spent so many hours keeping pretty. A fire in the galley had taken out our meager supply of ale, and our last good barrel of dried meat was floating off into the horizon. To top it all off, my tits were killing me from where a horny Dutchman had tried to get a last grope when I skewered him with my cutlass. The bastard scratched me up good as he thrashed through his death rattle. I know I shouldn’t fight topless, but damn, with tits like these, most men are too busy staring to fight.

I knew we were hurting like hell, but I was proud of my crew-sisters. As an all-female pirate crew, we often get underestimated. Traders will try to cheat us on the goods we smuggle, and shipwrights often think we are damn ignorant when we come to sell ships. By the Jolly Regina, men learn to respect us when four feet of steel is at their throat. And bloody stupid pirate hunters who thought we would be an easy kill soon learn the error of their estimations while they feed the sharks with their useless male carcasses. Women who take to the sea for a living don’t remain soft for long, and the Angry Cunt has been stalking ships going on eight years now.

To read more, click Whole Post


“Jane, we got a problem.”

I sighed and turned in the direction of Anna’s voice. “I know, Anna. The sails are a mess, and the captain is going to want them fixed before nightfall.”

Anna’s pretty face was frowning. “I don’t think Captain Teresa’s going to want much of anything anymore,” she said. “She’s in hell now. Two pistol shots and three knives in the back saw to that.”

“Cock-sucking sons of a thousand fathers!” I spat. “Assholes had to hit the captain from the back because there was no way the bitch would let anyone kill her head on.”

Anna nodded. “But there’s the matter of who’s to be the next captain.”

I snorted. “Fuck that. I don’t need to be captain. I’ll stick to being sail mistress, thank you kindly.”

Anna was about to say something, but I interrupted her. “I don’t care how good you think I’d be at it. Being captain is hard work. Christ’s piss, it’s like being a mother to a hundred daughters. I have a hard enough time dealing with all the shit I have to do now. Let someone stupid enough to want the job have it.”

A cheer went up from the other side of the ship. Considering how much we’d had the shit beat out of us, I wanted to see what the cheering was about. Anna followed me as I made my way aft. I pushed through my crew-sisters to a sight that made me tits shake with rage.

It was that no-good Portuguese daughter-of-a-bitch whore, Camila, and she had already pinned Captain Teresa’s hat onto her head. The bitch was posing for the crew, shaking her long curly black hair in that affected way I hated so much. I noticed she didn’t have a scratch on her body, and I had to wonder if she’d hidden behind her stockier lovers during the fighting again.

Camila had always been a problem. She had that knack for being the best friend of other women. Always knowing just what to say to make others feel bad, but she said it in such a way that it sounded like she was looking out for them. Lazy and greedy, she was the kind of gal you wanted to help strip a body for loot, but she would never be around to kick the man in the jewels to bring him down in the first place. The thought of her being the captain sickened me worse than a plate of rotting fish.

“Fuck no!” I yelled. I am not an articulate woman, and that was the best I could do.

Our crew-sisters looked at us and parted. Two of Camila’s lovers tried to step forward, but good old Nkiru half drew her sword. The African woman might have come here a slave, but she was a huntress in her old lands. Nkiru looked at me and smiled. She turned to the two and hissed. She was as good with words as I was.

“What’s this about, Jane?” Camila said. “You can still be sail mistress. I have no problem with that.”

I shook my head. “You got no problem with that cause you don’t know shit about being captain other than taking first pick of everything. Just because you are willing to eat every woman on board the ship is no reason you should be captain.”

The crew-sisters growled at that comment, but I ignored them. Christ’s bleeding ass, women on board a ship can be a sensitive bunch.

Camila was the most sensitive of them all. “Bitch,” she said.

“Cunt.” I responded.

“Fat cow!” she yelled.

“Spoiled whore who has less sense than a man!” I yelled back.

That was it. “Fuck you, Jane. If you don’t want me to be captain, then fucking challenge me already.”

I looked at Anna. Her damn eyes were just about glowing, she was so eager. I looked at the rest of the crew. Nkiru wanted me to. So did old Elizabeth and one-eyed Kateryn. Some of the crew weren’t so eager, but I think they were more afraid of losing Camila’s favor. Damn, that woman must know how to eat pussy.

Fuck!

“All right, I’m challenging you, Camila, for the right to be captain! Anna, go get our weapons!”

The crew cheered. I started to strip right there. Camila did as well while the crew backed away. I sized up Camila while she shucked her clothes. Holy Mother Whore of God, when did she get so muscular? I thought she was a thin waif under those clothes she wore, but the damn bitch had been hardening into lithe wiry cords of muscle. The bitch was going to be trouble. It’s a good thing she didn’t have the sense to cut that fool long hair.

I couldn’t help comparing her body to mine. Where she was smooth hard lines, I was a bit rounded. Shit, I was pretty damn fat. I would never fit into those corsets back at the brothel now; my waist was a nasty 24 inches. It ain’t all fat, though, there’s muscle under there. It does give me some huge ass tits, though I doubt they’ll bewitch Camila like they did those Dutchmen this morning. Instead of corded muscles, scars lined my body, something I didn’t see on Camila anywhere. And I was a little jealous of her hair. My blond hair was cut smart and short and looked more like a man’s. Oh well, this wouldn’t be a fucking beauty contest.

Anna brought forth our weapons from the captain’s quarters. Eight long, nasty inches of ivory cock dangled from cleverly constructed belts. Anna helped me put mine on. It fitted over my cunt like a false phallus and cinched around my waist. I was just amazed that whoever had crafted these weird things had made one in my size. The belt went around my waist up around my ass though it left my actual asshole exposed. The ivory jutted in front of me like a horny sailor. The belt fit snugly over me, and I was surprised at the way the base of the phallus rubbed against my cunt. Just the slightest nudge of the ivory sent strange and exciting shivers to my pussy.

Camila’s phallus had been fitted on her as well. We looked at each other in a little wonderment. Naked except for the fake cocks that projected from us. We were undeniably women but something else right now. We were as dangerous as men, maybe more so.

“Remember the code of the Angry Cunt,” Anna cried. “Once the fight begins, no crew-sister can help on threat of having her hands cut off and being sold to a brothel! The two will fight ’til one is fucked by the other, for it is written in the code that no woman who cannot defend herself from a cock has any right to captain the ship. The duel will go on for as long as it has to. No surrender will be accepted.”

“Agreed,” said every voice on the ship.

I lunged at Camila. The stupid bitch was actually surprised. I punched her across her jaw and kicked her leg out from under her. To my dying day, I will treasure the look on her face as she took the first punch I think she has felt since coming aboard. It was a look of shock and indignation. She reminded me of the first man I ever killed.

As soon as she went down, I tried to fall on top of her. I thought my weight would bring her down, but the slut was too strong. She braced herself and actually stood back up. I was a bit surprised and a little unprepared when she elbowed me six or seven times in the gut. I let go of her and stumbled back.

I have to credit that bitch, she didn’t let up. Camila charged right at me and reached for my tits. She dragged her fingernails across my sore breasts hard enough to draw blood. I screamed and backhanded her real good. Watching that long black hair snap around was almost payback enough.

The blow didn’t stun her like the first one had. The whore kicked me hard in the stomach and when I bent over, she grabbed what little of my blond hair she could and pushed my head hard into the side of the ship. I saw stars for a moment and then I saw a whole damn constellation when she rammed my head into the side again.

I was trying to blink away the darkness when I saw a white shape come ramming for my head. I dodged the ivory phallus just in time. The cunt had tried to make me choke down her weapon and win the duel! She grabbed my hair and pulled me back to it. I braced my hands on her sweaty thighs and fought with all my might. For a long painful minute, I watched that wicked cock come closer and closer to my mouth. I knew if she got it into me she would face-fuck me while the crew watched. Knowing Camila, that would be a very long fuck.

It was my hair that saved me. Already sweaty from the long day, Camila couldn’t hold onto my short hair for long. I slipped right out and banged my head on the ship wall for the third goddamn time that day. The cunt actually laughed at me! I paid her back with a swift kick to her cock. The laughter stopped, replaced with a wonderful gasp of air. Woman or man, no one likes a foot jamming ivory into their crotch.

I stood up while Camila bent over. Her exposed ass taunted me. I grabbed her by the belt and pulled her to me. Camila responded with an elbow to my tit. I let go of her and cursed myself. Now it was me that was too eager.

We circled each other. I was tired from the Dutch ship earlier, while Camila was pretty fresh. She saw how hard I was breathing and smiled. Christ’s balls, I hated that smile.

She charged me and aimed low to tackle me around my waist. I think she meant to slam me up against the ship side again, but I was onto her. I grabbed her around the waist and just fell backward. She struggled, but gravity favors the fat, and we went down. She landed headfirst, which was good, while I only had to worry about the pain of a hard ship on bare back. That’s a lot of pain in case you were wondering.

We rolled a bit. Camila was strong, and she punched and kicked as much as she could. That was all right. I let her. It’s exhausting work to fight on the ground, and I’d rather take her hits than wear myself out fighting back. I just wrapped as much leg and arm around her as possible and held on. At one point, she bit my arm and I almost let go, but a quick grab of that curly hair and she wasn’t going anywhere. Next time she bit me, I let her. Like I said, I let the cunt wear herself out.

A curious thing happened while we wrestled. Our phalluses were jammed up against one another and that awful rubbing kept stroking my pussy. Every jolt, punch, kick, roll and hair pull was stimulating my phallus and making my pussy as wet as the sea. I hated Camila, but damn, I was getting horny and I think she was, too. Some of our grunts sounded more like groans, although we both would have sooner died than admitted it.

The piece of shit got tired. It was hard enough fighting without having to deal with my weight, too. My body was a mess of bruises and bites, but I was holding onto my strength. When Camila was panting and her punches got weak, I sprang into action. I got on top of her, and I rolled her over onto the deck floor. She cried out as her phallus jammed in an uncomfortable way, but that was too bad. I had her arms behind her back, and her Portuguese ass was right under my own weapon.

I was a little disturbed by how easy it was. I trapped her legs between mine and aimed my phallus for her ass. One quick adjustment with my hand, and I was aimed true. Camila struggled, but as tired as she was and with my weight still on her, she was as easy to hit as a galleon with all her sails down.

Camila screamed. I couldn’t see it, but I felt as every inch of the ivory entered her hole. I was inside her and the pressure against my cunt was amazing. I could feel my juices trickling down, and I knew that those juices were going into her ass.

“We have a winner!” Anna cried.

Fuck that. I couldn’t stop now. I lifted up and slammed back into Camila. She screamed and I kept fucking. My blood was up, and my pussy demanded satisfaction from this bitch. I fucked her. I fucked her like the sailors used to fuck me in the brothel. I fucked her like she was my wife, bought and paid for with a fat dowry. I fucked her like the pirate hunters, the soldiers and all the King’s Navy would fuck us if they ever had the chance. Women were hunted and enslaved all over the world, and that is why we the women of the Angry Cunt fought back, but for just this one day, I will fuck this stupid lazy bitch who wanted to be captain just because she saw it as an easy way to glory.

I had my orgasm. I came with a loud shriek that doubled as my claim over this cunt and as my claim over the ship. My crew-sisters cheered. Their cheer wrapped around me and brought me out of my battle lust. My body felt like it was on fire in a very good way but I stopped. I slowly pulled out of Camila. Eager hands helped me to my feet. I grabbed Anna and kissed her hard. The crew cheered again. These were my sisters.

Nkira brought me Captain Teresa’s hat. I put it on for another cheer. I was damn happy to have won, but I wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet.

“Look at her!” I yelled. I pointed at Camila’s crumpled body. “Look at her and remember that this is what we are here for! If you are weak, if you are lazy or if you are a coward, then the world will fuck your ass! Never forget that this is what waits for us if we are ever weak! Do you want to be ass-fucked by the world?”

“No, Captain Jane!’ the crew cheered. I shuddered. “Captain Jane” had a nice ring to it. Anna was right after all. Maybe I was meant to be captain.

Camila stood up. Damn if I knew how. She looked at me, and there was none of that smug look anymore. Her face was pale, but her eyes were enraged. I think she understood once and for all just what it meant to be a female pirate.

For that matter, I think I finally did, too.

Fiction: The Treasure of Wenches’ Cleft

“Relax, Hopkins, and have a beer,” the sheriff said.

I took the beer without thinking. Before I opened it, I said: “Oh, crap, I’m only twenty. I can’t have a beer.”

The other men laughed. “Son, there’s no law here tonight,” Sheriff Stevens said.

I opened the beer and took a deep drink. No one had offered any explanations for what we were doing here, and I was getting nervous. Mr. Meyers and Mr. Wickman hadn’t said a word to me Mr. O’Neil had just said that it had something to do with my father. Dad had passed away last year, and Mr. O’Neil said I should come in his place.

What a place it was. We were hunched around a fire on the shore of Wenches’ Cleft. This small bay was named, so it was said, after a local legend about a ship of barmaids that sunk during the Revolutionary War. I was eighteen before I realized that it was more likely named after the shape of the shoreline. On a map, this place looked downright vaginal. There were no marinas, no houses and not even a road to this beach. The town fathers of New Daland had years ago outlawed any development, and each town council elected afterwards had agreed. This resulted in a beautiful spot, but one that was deserted and creepy — especially on Halloween night.

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It didn’t help that a cold Atlantic wind was blowing and threatening to extinguish the fire with every gust. There was a bright harvest moon, and the waves looked odd under the orange glow. This far away from civilization, you could see all of the stars in the sky, and they crowded the night so fully you almost expected one to fall down for lack of room. All of this sounds picturesque when you read it on the screen in your safe home, but living it was disconcerting. I felt like I was in one of my father’s favorite movies.

I shook my head. I didn’t like thinking about Dad. He always resisted my desire to leave this town. When I got out of high school, he got me a well-paying job doing errands for Mr. Wickman. He wouldn’t even hear of my going out of the county for a vacation. Now that he was gone, I had sold the house and packed the car. I planned to leave in the morning and see what the rest of the world was like. I should have been in bed sleeping, but at Mr. O’Neil’s request, I was freezing my ass off on a log in the middle of the night.

“Your father was a good man,” Mr. O’Neil said out of the blue. The other men nodded. I said nothing. Dad was a good man if a little strange. He was New Daland’s doctor, but he also collected books, movies and anything to do with the supernatural. By the time I was twelve, I could set a broken bone and knew the three ways to test for poltergeists. Mom left us when I was ten, and although she never wrote or called, Dad never said a bad word about her. He was a good man.

“You said I needed to come in my father’s place?” I asked.

The men looked at one another, and finally, Mr. Wickman said, “All right, all right, I’ll tell the boy.”

Mr. Wickman owned the only restaurant in New Daland. He was ancient, easily over eighty. I’d only seen Mr. Wickman in his rocking chair back in town, and it was unsettling for me to see him sitting on a log. The wind blew through his wispy, long white hair as he turned his excited eyes to me.

“Years ago, when New Daland was founded, the settlers here found a hidden treasure,” he said. “The treasure came from a group of pirates that used Wenches’ Cleft as a port.”

I started to laugh. “That’s ridiculous. We’re inside the Outer Banks. They don’t call this part of the coast the Graveyard of the Atlantic for nothing. No pirates came this far north. Blackbeard was the only pirate cocky enough to try, and they’re still looking for his ship.”

“Shut up, kid,” Mr. Meyers said wearily. “Just shut up and listen. God damn, you are your father’s kid. I bet you’ll keep talking when they —“

The sheriff’s elbow silenced him before he could finish. Mr. O’Neil chuckled but didn’t add anything. Mr. Wickman took this opportunity to keep talking.

“As I was saying, boy, the founding fathers found a treasure. The thing about this treasure is that there wasn’t a lot to go around. So the twelve men swore one another to secrecy. Only these twelve men were allowed to enjoy the treasure, and when they passed away, the secret would pass to their oldest sons. Over the years, some families have died out, and some have moved on to other towns. We five are the remaining descendants of the original founding fathers.”

“Treasure?” I said. “Dad never mentioned any treasure. In fact, we had to eat tuna casserole for two weeks one spring when no one got sick. He certainly didn’t leave me anything really valuable in his will.”

Mr. Wickman snorted. “It’s not that kind of a treasure. This kind of treasure can be collected only every ten years. Believe me, we’ve tried to collect it sooner. One year, Bill camped here for six months and never saw the treasure.”

“Shut up, Olin,” Mr. Meyers said. “Look, every Halloween you bring that up, like I don’t feel stupid enough. It was after Sally divorced me. I was desperate, OK?”

“Keep telling him the story,” Mr. O’ Neil interrupted. I noticed that he looked out to the water while he spoke, and it reminded me of when I first sat down. I had tried to sit with my back to the wind coming from the water, and all four of the men had yelled at me to move.

“Why are we watching the water?” I asked.

“What your father should have told you is that the founding fathers were visited by ghosts,” Mr. Wickman said. I smiled and he scowled. “I’m dead serious. One hundred and ninety years ago, the founding fathers saw a ghost ship. Now this wasn’t one of those sorry-ass sightings you hear about nowadays. The ship didn’t disappear and reappear, and it sure as hell didn’t make a sail into some mist and vanish. No, this was a real honest-to-Christ ghost ship, and it landed here, right at this very spot.

“The founding fathers talked to these ghosts and found out they were coming back in ten years. They also found out these ghosts were pirates and that were loaded with treasure the fathers wanted. The pirates may have been ghosts but their treasure was real. The pirates and the founding fathers came to an understanding. The founding fathers agreed to always greet them here on Halloween night every ten years to make the pirates’ voyage a little less lonely.”

I was openly laughing until all of the men scowled at me. “You’re serious?” I asked. “I mean, really. Ghost pirates? With real treasure? Where do they get it from?”

“Told you he wouldn’t believe us,” Mr. Meyers grumbled. “His dad was the same damn way. ‘Pirates didn’t have galleons; they used smaller boats.’ Or ‘Why are their clothes so modern?’ Jesus Christ, the man was always happy to take his share, but he always debated them like he could reason them out of existence!”

Sheriff Stevens stirred the fire. “Don’t mind Bill,” he said. “Your dad was a smart man, and some of his questions could get disturbing. It was strange enough dealing with ghosts without someone pointing out how impossible they were. I think your father suspected they might be something else. It didn’t stop him from fucking them, though.”

I nearly fell off my log. “What? He fucked the ghosts?”

“We all did,” Mr. O’Neil said. “It’s why they keep coming back. We’re a port of call for them.”

“I … I ... didn’t know my dad was gay.”

They all looked at me in stunned silence before breaking into laughter. Even Mr. Meyers was laughing. Mr. Wickman was laughing so hard I thought his head was going to fall off. Sheriff Stevens recovered first.

“Shit, son, they ain’t guy pirates,” he said. “These are lady pirates.”

“What? There’s no such thing.” The old men just kept laughing. “Really, there is no such thing as women pirates. There were a few in the Caribbean but they posed as men. There weren’t enough female pirates to even fill a ship.”

“We know that,” Mr. O’Neil said when he got a hold of himself. “Your dad and I did years of research. The ship the ghosts sail is all wrong. The English they speak is anachronistic. Last time they visited, one of them was wearing a leather jacket. It doesn’t make any sense of all, but we do know one thing. Every ten years, on Halloween night, they sail to Wenches’ Cleft and have a party on the beach.”

“You guys are having me on for some reason,” I said. “No disrespect, but you guys are full of it.”

“Then what’s that, Mr. Know-It-All?” Mr. Meyers said. There was triumph in his sarcasm.

I followed his pointing finger and saw it. It was a ship. It had a white glow that was as bright as the moon, and it gave me chills to see it. The sails were full and headed straight for us. I watched it move straight through a sandbar without pausing. It stopped about thirty feet off the shore, and I saw people moving on the decks. The ship was glowing white, but the people looked normal. We watched as they loaded four glowing rowboats and rowed towards us.

“You can leave if you want,” Mr. Wickman said. “No one’s going to force you.”

I said nothing. I tried to imagine my father standing on this beach while ghosts rowed towards him. Did he collect ghost stories because he needed an answer to this weirdness, or did he collect them try to repeat the strange feeling I was having? Although the glow of the unnatural ship disturbed me, I found myself oddly elated. This was exciting. Ten years was almost short enough to justify living in this small town.

The pirates landed on the beach and disembarked. God, they were beautiful. They were a mixture of races: white, black and a few Asians. All of them were as pale as their ship as if they had never felt the touch of the sun. They smiled at us with knowing, confident smiles that were a little disturbing. They were hungry to see us.

Their clothes were a mix of colors and styles. Some wore bikini tops, while others were ragged shirts that blew in the bay wind. A few wore tight pants, but most of them wore torn shorts, small bikini bottoms or worn dresses. The colors were bright and festive with the occasional white skull-and-crossbones motif. They looked as though their clothes came from a pirate musical, rather than like the rags worn by real pirates.

The pirates stayed by their boats while their leader came to us. She had to be their leader. Tall and arrogant, she carried herself with a regal demeanor that wasn’t used to being denied. Her long red hair flowed out from underneath a black scarf that covered her head. Gold hoops hung from each ear and caught the moonlight. The black bikini top she wore had two white skulls on each breast. Other than leather boots and a belt with a scabbard, she wore no other clothing. Her sex was hairless, and I couldn’t help following the lines of her powerful thighs to that bare treasure.

“Greetings, Captain,” Mr. Wickman said. “Congratulations on your promotion. Our last meeting was with Captain Winter.”

The redhead smiled. “She fell during the sacking of The Green City. I am Captain Tempest. Are you ready to honor the pact we formed so many moons ago?”

Mr. Wickman nodded. “Gladly. Did you bring the special ale?”

“Why, of course,” Captain Tempest said. “We have sailed through many oceans, and I wouldn’t want to exhaust you all in a single hour.”

She waved to her women and they brought forth a curious keg. The barrel glittered and made a metallic sound when they set it on the log we were sitting on. Captain Tempest tapped the keg and poured a bubbling liquid into a mug. She handed the mug to Mr. Wickman who drank it all in one long tip of the cup. When he finished, the pale ladies actually cheered.

“Cannon squad, here you go!” Captain Tempest yelled. A group of women cheered again and dragged the happy Mr. Wickman away to molest him near the rowboats. I didn’t know what was stranger: seeing Mr. Wickman happy or seeing a group of young women ripping off the old man’s clothes in frenzied lust.

One by the one the rest of my father’s friends took a drink from the mug. After each drink, another group of women would drag them away to happily assault their bodies. When my turn came, I was surprised to only see four women left with the Captain. I took the mug from the Captain’s hands and drank the fizzy liquor. It tasted like cherries and garlic.

“As Captain, I claim the finest cut of the spoils and the largest division,” the redhead gloated. “I also claim first cut. Come here, boy!”

I tried to object to being called a boy, but there was no time. The Captain pulled me to her and crushed my lips to hers. The boots made her taller than me, but it was still a bit embarrassing to be dipped and kissed like a movie heroine. I couldn’t say a word as her lips breached mine and her tongue plundered my mouth. When she finally broke the kiss, she dropped my breathless body to the sand.

“Take off your pants,” the Captain commanded.

I tried to sit up, but the heel of her boot pinned my chest to the sand. She forced me to wriggle and shift my hips lewdly as I tried to remove my pants. The other pirates laughed and then clapped as they saw my erection spring from my underwear. My cheeks burned with humiliation as Captain Tempest appraised me.

“My, my, your sword is indeed worthy of note,” she said. “A little thick for my tastes but it’ll help compensate some for your lack of experience. Don’t act so surprised. You kiss little better than a virgin.”

I was going to deny her but something told me she would know better. She stood over my body and swayed her hips back and forth. Her companions urged her to drop down, and Captain Tempest enjoyed teasing them as much as she enjoyed teasing me. She danced above me as light from the fire flickered on her pale skin.

“Damnation, it has been too long,” she said at last. The Captain fell to her knees and made me cry out as her firm bottom landed on my cock. I gripped the sand in my arousal, knowing somehow that actually touching her would not be allowed.

Captain Tempest grabbed my cock. She slipped me inside her, and my moan was lost in the night wind. She rode me with a vigorous need. Back and forth she fucked me, and her face transformed into a savage grimace of desire. Her expressions frightened me, and I could see her swinging across a deck and dealing carnage to some victim’s ship. I don’t know how my father could ever doubt that these ladies really were pirates.

She fucked me. Her hands grabbed my shirt as if they were reins. The redhead’s thighs gripped my waist, and the heat of her sex convinced me that she couldn’t possibly be a ghost. No ghost could be that wet. No dead woman could be warm inside. No spectral entity could have breasts that jiggled so much within their tight bikini top.

“Yes!” Captain Tempest cried. She looked down at me and laughed heartily as she brought herself to another orgasm and another and another. I could only clench the sand as my cock came so achingly close to its own ejaculation but strangely never did. I hadn’t lasted this long in my two previous experiences with sex, and yet tonight I was stuck on the edge of my orgasm.

After a long, sensuous ride, Captain Tempest finally stopped. The other ladies were quiet as the redhead tried to catch her breath. I was only interested in the rise and fall of her bosom.

“I’m done for now,” the redhead said. “You can have your turn now.”

Captain Tempest rose from my cock. What she said didn’t even register with me. I was so turned on from not climaxing; I wasn’t able to think straight. Only when I felt the grab of a dozen hands did I realize that I was now at the mercy of the other pirates.

Two mouths fought for my mouth while hands and mouths roamed over the rest of my body. I shared a kiss with a demanding black woman and a hot-breathed blonde that left my lips tingling from the assault. A hand cupped my balls while a mouth consumed my cock. I cried out from a pinch of my nipples, but the blonde bit my lower lip and choked my cries.

The black woman pushed the blonde away and pressed me to her abundant breasts. I took her nipple in my mouth as her breasts smothered me. The blonde wouldn’t be stopped. She nibbled on my neck, biting around the base of my scalp as the black woman kept me pinned to her breasts. Eventually, the black woman pulled me away from her tits but only so she could push me into the bosom of the blonde. The blonde’s breasts were smaller, but I did my best to please her.

Back and forth I was traded between their breasts until one frustrated pirate broke the chain. A pale brunette pulled me from their grips and dragged me a couple of feet until we collapsed into the sand. The other pirates laughed and didn’t take her urgent desire personally. The brunette lay on her back and pulled my cock to between her legs. Her thighs wrapped around my waist and hooked under my butt. With my ass exposed, the other ladies wasted no choice to give my buttocks a casual slap with their hands.

The brunette said something I didn’t understand. Her accent was Germanic and very thick, but I could understand her meaning easily enough. I pushed into her, and she rose to meet me. Our hips came together a hundred times as we fucked in the sand. The other pirates sat and watched us, touching themselves and each other. Even Captain Tempest sat on the log and touched herself. Our eyes met and the redhead’s hand moved faster between her legs.

The brunette groaned under me and her hands clawed my shirt. I fucked her like her body demanded and yet I still did not climax. That didn’t stop her, though. She buckled under me, smiling the entire time as her eyes widened in pleasure. Some of the other ladies climaxed as well, and their moans echoed down the bay.

“I’ll share you with him, Kyoko,” a tiny blonde announced. She grabbed me by the hair and pulled me flat onto the sand and out of the brunette’s warm thighs.

“Good idea,” an Asian beauty said. She was wearing a red skirt with a white bodice that was indecently open to reveal her pale breasts. She stood over my erection and lifted her skirt to reveal a lack of underwear. As her Captain had done before her, she impaled herself on me, and once again I trembled as we connected.

“Save your mouth,” the blonde said. She kicked off a tight pair of white shorts and sat upon my face. Her sex pushed against my mouth, and I could smell the salt of the sea on her furry bush. The blonde’s hands gripped my hair and fucked my face without a concern for my ability to breathe. To speed her along her climax, I opened my mouth and licked for all I was worth. I sucked on her lips and my tongue pushed deep into her, much to her delight. The tiny blonde’s hips gyrated and smeared her desire all over my face.

The other pirate ladies came back to my body, and I could feel them touching the two who were mauling me. Worse, I could hear them, but I couldn’t see them because the tiny blonde’s thigh encased my face. I couldn’t see who was sucking a breast so loudly. I couldn’t tell who had stuck their finger up the tiny blonde’s anus, forcing her to squeeze tighter around my face. Someone took my hand and pushed it into her sex, guiding my fingers into buried treasure. Someone else took my other hand and pressed it to her breast. I squeezed the plump flesh and tried to guess which of the beautiful ladies I was groping.

In this manner, they traded me among themselves. The black woman placed me in her ass, and I fucked her till her cheeks clenched thankfully around me. The blonde who’d bitten me earlier made me go down on her, and she climaxed only when I bit down on her swollen clit. The pale brunette pulled me onto her twice more, climaxing harder each time I fucked her. The tiny blonde took my cock deep into her while the Asian fed me her breasts. Captain Tempest took her turn again, this time crushing my mouth to her ass while my fingers brought her off to a thundering climax. No matter whom I fucked or in what combinations, I never climaxed.

“The moon is falling,” Captain Tempest said. “It is time.”

The pirate ladies groaned, but in good cheer, they flipped me onto my back. Captain Tempest placed my head on her lap and pulled down the cups of her bikini top. Her pale breasts were ripe above my mouth, but I lacked the strength to take one in my lips. She played lazily with my hair as the other pirate ladies descended on my cock. I shuddered as five mouths kissed and sucked on the skin of my cock. Captain Tempest gently held me down as I moaned and writhed.

“The ale allows for great endurance, but only for a few hours,” Captain Tempest said. Two sets of lips were on the tip of my cock, and I could feel their mouths bouncing my cock between them. Another mouth was on my balls, and two were licking up and down the length of my sensitive shaft.

“The final burst will be intense but pleasurable,” Captain Tempest said. “Listen.”

The beach had become deathly quiet. Instead of laughter and cheers, there was now just the sound of dozens of mouths kissing and licking. There was a pause in the air as the men of tonight’s party waited for their reward.

One mouth sucked all of my cock into her throat for a quick swallow. Another mouth bit my thighs. Three mouths sucked on the base of my cock while the tip bounced on someone’s cheek. Captain Tempest stroked my hair lovingly as my eyes clenched in pleasure.

“There he blows!” the captain joked. My orgasm was amazing. Sensitized for so many hours, I shook all over as I finally released the tension that had been restrained for too long. My seed splashed on lips, tongues and cheeks and seemed to explode for forever. The ladies didn’t even flinch though I heard giggles and laughter as they cleaned me with their mouths. Then they cleaned each other with their mouths, as I lay helpless on Captain Tempest’s lap.

“You are young,” she said. “Usually, the men we meet are old. Their fathers jealously keep us to themselves and passing the secret on only when they die. Oh, there are the men we capture, but they usually aren’t in shape to fuck once we have beaten them in battle. I’m half tempted to take you with us as my cabin boy. How would you like that, sailing with us on the Astral Main? There are ports you would never believe and treasures you couldn’t imagine. It’s been decades since we last had a cabin boy, and I think you could warm my bed quite well.”

Before I could answer, the other men approached us. Mr. O’Neil and Sheriff Stevens were holding Mr. Wickman up between them. Mr. Meyers was smiling; For the first time since I’d known him, he looked relaxed.

“Captain, it has been a pleasure,” he said. “It’ll be a long ten years before you come back again.”

He was right. I thought about the distant places she talked about. I thought about sitting here like Meyers, waiting for ten years just to be used again. I thought about my father and why he’d stayed in town and kept me here too.

“Yes, I’ll come,” I told Captain Tempest.

The men tried to stop me, but it was useless. The swords the women carried weren’t just props. Sheriff Stevens tried to reason with me until Mr. O’Neil pulled him away. I think he understood. I think they all did.

They waved as Captain Tempest’s women rowed me to the galleon.