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.
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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.
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Friday, July 14, 2006
Thursday, July 13, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Pirate Week Ambush-Serious Shit
I'm on the phone with my wife. She's in her car and I hear the following things-Sirens, a loud crunch, my wife screaming, and then the beep of our call being cut off.
Five of the longest damn minutes of my life pass by.
She calls back. She's okay. She had stopped for an ambulance and someone rear-ended her. She's a bit sore, the guy who hit her is very sorry and the ambulance actually stopped to check on her. The car looks fine but now it makes grindy noises. The police, insurance and hitter are very helpful and everything will work out fine.
But for five minutes I didn't have a wife and that was some scary shit.
So let's go back to Pirate Week. Let's realize that the good times can end at any moment and that we need to live life NOW and enjoy it like drunken pirates in a brothel. Let's hoist a hug of something delicious and squeeze something soft or hard as your tastes may dictate.
Enjoy what you have today and everyday.
Five of the longest damn minutes of my life pass by.
She calls back. She's okay. She had stopped for an ambulance and someone rear-ended her. She's a bit sore, the guy who hit her is very sorry and the ambulance actually stopped to check on her. The car looks fine but now it makes grindy noises. The police, insurance and hitter are very helpful and everything will work out fine.
But for five minutes I didn't have a wife and that was some scary shit.
So let's go back to Pirate Week. Let's realize that the good times can end at any moment and that we need to live life NOW and enjoy it like drunken pirates in a brothel. Let's hoist a hug of something delicious and squeeze something soft or hard as your tastes may dictate.
Enjoy what you have today and everyday.
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: Cell Phone Slave Part Twelve
Amaya was in the showers early the next morning. Last night had been a strange and exhilarating experience, and she had slept very soundly. Well, except for endless horny dreams about being groped till she climaxed again and again. When she awoke, she groaned with disappointment that she was alone in her room. If only she had a hand or two — or a dozen — to keep her company.
She got in the shower because it was the only place that she could get that all-over sensation she was craving. Standing under the water, she closed her eyes and imagined being back at the house. Every drop of water became a finger tracing her body, and the patter of the shower became the chatter of the unknown boys.
Her hands kept curling. Walking to the showers, her hands had curled. Standing under water, her fingers curled around imaginary cocks. Anytime she was distracted, her hands resumed the shapes they’d held for hours last night. It was like her body was eager to grasp cock once more and give pleasure. Amaya couldn’t get over how her body was acting almost independently of her. This wasn’t what she expected when she came to college!
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The water rained down on her back as she thought about it. What was she doing here? Her parents had always wanted a child in college. Here she was, and she didn’t even have a major. In the back of her mind, she had expected that something would attract her interest and that she would pursue that as a career. Instead, she had come to college and discovered there was no magic answer to what to do with her life. Well, except for Wesley, and for that matter, men like him.
Amaya stood there under the water and considered what kind of answer Wesley was. Could she really do this all the time? She was a smart girl; wasn’t she supposed to aspire to being more than just a kinky slut? As much as she thought she should be focusing on college, she couldn’t deny how great she felt when she was playing Wesley’s games. It gave her a sense of purpose even if that purpose was to be used for someone else’s enjoyment. Pleasing Wesley was a hell of a lot more fun that pleasing her parents had been.
When she finally finished her shower, Amaya returned to her room and got dressed for the day. Wesley’s envelope yesterday had contained a stack of twenties along with two other surprises. There was a very small green vibrator, along with a little bottle of lube. The vibrator was small, but it had a strange wide base that was much wider than it was long. There was no note, but Amaya felt it would be best to pack the two with her today. She certainly didn’t want Wesley to call and her not be ready for him.
She wore a yellow floral print skirt so she could use the vibrator without stripping. The idea of not wearing any underwear appealed to her, and she decided to dare it. To go with the skirt, she opted for a white t-shirt over a light pink bra. Amaya felt light and summery, as well as horny just thinking about what Wesley might have her use that vibrator for.
Despite the vibrator and lube in her purse, Amaya was able to turn her attention to her classes. She took notes and paid attention to the lectures like a good student. Part of her was still unsure whether college was what she really wanted to do, but Wesley had been clear on how he felt about her classes, so she kept at it. Besides, it was easier waiting for his phone call if she had something to do.
The bright sunshine of the morning gave way to unexpected afternoon showers. Amaya had just finished a biology class, and she had a few hours before her next class. She looked out the window and realized her skirt and t-shirt were going to get soaked. It would be a cold, wet walk back to her dorm, but she knew she had to change her clothes.
The cell phone rang. Amaya moaned as she answered it but she also felt her heart race. What game did he have today?
“Nice little rain shower, isn’t it?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, I was heading for my dorm,” Amaya said.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Wesley said. “Do you have my gift from yesterday?”
Amaya blushed. “Yes, but I’m still at my biology class.”
Wesley laughed. “Slow down, my horny girl. I don’t want you to fuck yourself in class. At least not today. No, for now I want you to go to the library. Call me when you get there.”
The rain increased in intensity as Amaya watched. He hadn’t give her a deadline for going, but she wasn’t going to push it. She tightened her grip on backpack and went running into the rain.
The cold rain felt good at first. It had been a hot day, and running in the rain was a nice relief. Before long, though, the rain soaked through her clothes and drenched her to the skin. Her shirt clung to her chest, and Amaya was horrified to see that her nipples were clearly visible despite the bra she was wearing.
She didn’t stop running till she got to the library. The man behind the circulation counter frowned when he saw Amaya walk in dripping, but his frown faded as he stared at her chest. She blushed as she took out her phone and dialed Wesley.
“That was very fast,” he said. “I’m proud of you. Now, turn right from the entrance and go all the way ’til you reach the stairs. Go down them.”
Amaya did as he commanded, dripping as she walked. The cold air in the library froze the water on her, making her nipples rock hard. Her skirt clung to her legs, and she didn’t like how transparent the material had become. Was her sex visible? She couldn’t be sure, but she walked faster all the same.
The stairs were not easy to find. They were located in the older half of the library, where lightning and space management apparently hadn’t been needed. The stairs themselves were so narrow that Amaya wondered whether the library’s original students had been midgets. At least it was warmer downstairs. The lack of air-conditioning might have been unbearable any other day, but for now, Amaya was grateful for any amount of heat she could find.
“OK, I’m downstairs,” she told Wesley.
“All right. Head to your left and keep walking. When you get to a turn, follow it to the end.”
Amaya followed his directions and navigated the tight aisles. Bookshelves were crowded upon one another like trees competing for sunlight. Out of curiosity, she looked at a few shelves to see what forgotten tomes were here. Most of them appeared to be magazine archives, while other shelves contained old textbooks. It was like a graveyard for the written word.
The sounds of the basement only reinforced the graveyard mentality. Pipes criss-crossed the ceiling, rattling against each other briefly before falling silent. Amaya’s footsteps echoed in the basement, and the floors creaked loudly at times when she walked over them. Somewhere a door slammed and she was confused. There weren’t any doors down here, yet she had heard the door as clearly as if it were five feet away from her.
Along the way, she saw several study areas tucked along the walls. They were pretty spartan, containing only a plastic chair, a bolted-in desk and a single desk light. It was to one of these study areas that Wesley’s directions guided her. Amaya felt a surge of excitement run through her. The desk was isolated, but if someone were to pass by her aisle, they would see her doing whatever it was that Wesley wanted from her.
“I’m at the desk,” Amaya said.
“I hope you brought your headset,” Wesley said. “Or else you’re going to get a very sore neck.”
“I always bring it,” she said. She fished the headphones out of her book bag and plugged them into the cell. The excitement welled up inside her. There was no doubt he would ask her to fuck herself here. It was frightening to do it in such a public place, but at the same time, she preferred it to being fucked by other people. She’d take Wesley on the phone over frat guys in person any day.
“I saw that you wore a skirt today,” he said. “Are you wearing underwear?”
“No,” Amaya answered.
“Smart girl. Have you ever used lubricant before?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve never really had a problem getting wet.”
Wesley chuckled. “You will today. There should be a book on the desk. A brown one.”
“It’s here,” she said.
“Open it towards the center. It should stay open on its own. That way, if anyone walks by, you’ll have an easier time pretending you are reading.”
“OK,” she said. She had to resist laughing. The excitement was making her giddy. Instead of performing a difficult task, she felt like she was collaborating with Wesley. It reminded her of sneaking off with her boyfriend to make out.
“Get the lube out, and squirt a little into your hand,” he said. “Be careful, it will be cold to begin with. Rub it in your hand to warm it to room temperature.”
The lube wasn’t just cold: It was freezing. Amaya shivered as she massaged it in her fingers. She was also surprised by how slippery it was. Granted, she’d figured lubricant would be slick, but she was amazed by how smooth it felt. You could grease a square wheel with this stuff.
“It’s warm now,” she said.
“Now use your finger to coat your asshole with the lube.”
“Excuse me?” Amaya said.
“You heard me,” Wesley said.
She had heard him, but she still couldn’t believe it. Her asshole? He couldn’t be serious! John, her ex-boyfriend, always wanted to fuck her ass, but she had refused. It was too humiliating. Why would anyone want to fuck her ass?
“Have you done it yet?” Wesley asked.
“I’m working on it,” she lied. As she said it, she realized she would do it. Wesley had asked for it, so he obviously wanted it. The idea scared her, but she couldn’t find the strength to tell him no.
With one hand, she lifted her skirt over her waist. The skirt wouldn’t stay up, so she bent over the desk and raised her skirt over her hips. She massaged the lube over her asshole, flinching as she worked. The lube was so slippery over her ass, Amaya couldn’t help imagining the vibrator sinking straight down her hole.
“Now I’m done,” she said. Her voice only trembled slightly.
“Lube your new vibrator, and quicker this time. You don’t want someone to see you doing it, do you?”
“No, I’ll be faster,” Amaya said. As she coated the vibrator, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t small enough. It was too wide, too long and just too much to put in her ass. How could she do this?
“It’s ready,” she said, though she was far from it.
“Good. Take the tip of the vibrator and place it against your anus. For now, just get the tip into you.”
Still bent over the desk, Amaya reached behind herself with the small vibrator. The vibrator actually slipped over her anus because of all the lube, but with a little balancing, she was able to get the toy in position. Her ass clenched tightly in trepidation.
“It’s there,” she whispered.
“Very slowly push it in,” Wesley said.
She tried, and her ass clenched in response. “I can’t,” Amaya pleaded.
“You will,” he said. “You will, or I hang up. I shouldn’t have to explain this every time.”
She swallowed hard. He was right. She knew that there was no discussion, no bartering and no hesitation allowed. It’s just that what he was asking was frightening and new to her. She had never given her ass to anyone, and now she was being asked to do it in the basement of a library.
She took a deep breath.
She spread her legs wider and braced herself.
She got a firm grip on the vibrator, her fingers wrapping around the wide base.
She pushed it in.
“Oh, God,” Amaya whimpered. Her anus expanded to take the vibrator in, stretching in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
“What does it feel like?” Wesley demanded.
“Like I am torn apart,” Amaya said.
Wesley chuckled. “Push it deeper in.”
Amaya whimpered and did as he asked. The vibrator slid deeper into her, opening her ass with every inch. Her legs trembled as she took it in. She was being impaled and part of her feared it would never come back out. The base prevented her pushing it any deeper.
“It’s in,” she whispered.
“See? That didn’t take long. Now pull it slowly out, but not all the way out, of course.”
“Oh, God,” Amaya said as she began the long pull out. It was inconceivable that such a small vibrator felt so huge inside her. It felt at least a foot long. Every second she spent pulling felt like ages.
“It’s nearly out,” she said.
“Push it in, faster than before.”
She obeyed and cried out as the toy reinvaded her ass. The lube let it slide in quick, thrusting into her like a man. It knocked her forward onto the desk as her knees buckled.
“Pull it back out again,” Wesley commanded.
It slid back quicker this time. Amaya realized her ass was becoming better lubricated. The idea made her blush. She was preparing her ass to be fucked, and her ass was already becoming accustomed to it.
“Push it back in, slow this time.”
“Oh, fuck,” Amaya whispered as the vibrator pushed back in. She tried to do it slowly, but her ass was prepared for more. In fact, it felt a little too slow. Could she possibly be craving the sensation already?
A sound broke her of her thoughts. Even through the hissing and popping of the pipes, she could distinctly hear footsteps. They were getting louder and faster as someone impatiently came closer.
“Someone’s coming,” she hissed. Her first reaction was to stand up, and the vibrator in her ass painfully reminded her of its presence. She winced and then smoothed her skirt down over her ass. Sitting down, she discovered that the hard plastic chair was unforgiving on her ass. The vibrator slid deeper up into her, splitting her open and making her bite her lip in pain.
The lube was still sitting on the desk, so she covered it with her hand. She was just in time as someone walked around the corner. Amaya sneaked a peek and saw that it was a woman. The girl was scanning book titles, slowly working her way to Amaya’s position.
“Have you seen the archives for Purple Truth Monthly?” the girl asked.
Amaya turned slowly towards the girl and shook her head. She was afraid to even speak. It was a paranoid thought, but she felt that if she spoke, the girl would somehow know that Amaya had a vibrator in her ass.
“Damn it,” the girl said. She just stood there, staring at the shelves. Amaya feigned reading from her book and prayed for the girl to leave. It was nerve-wracking to have this stranger so close to her. Any minute, Amaya expected the girl to smell the lubricant, or notice how stiffly she was sitting and started screaming for the librarian. The tension made her clench involuntarily, which just tightened the grip her ass had on the vibrator.
Eventually, the girl turned around and left. Amaya let out a big sigh of air that she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She relaxed a little but not too much. She was still impaled on that vibrator, after all.
“Get back into position,” Wesley commanded.
“I’m not sure she’s left the basement,” Amaya said.
“I don’t care. Get back into position.”
Looking first to see if anyone was around, she stood back up and bent over the desk. She lifted her skirt back over her ass so she could reach the vibrator. As sensitive as she thought her ass was, actually touching the toy again sent new shockwaves through her body. She clenched her eyes as the sensations rode through her, and it was Wesley’s voice that brought her back.
“Now, Amaya, I think it’s past time you fucked your ass for me, isn’t it?”
“OK,” she said simply.
“Get a firm grip on your toy, and turn it on.”
The vibrator’s wide base had a dial on the bottom, so it was easy to reach. However, twisting the dial to the on position put pressure on the toy that only created new sensations in her ass. The pleasant vibrations added to those feelings, making her ass come alive in ways she couldn’t have ever imagined. It was so strange to her. She would have never imagined she could have experienced so many different feelings from a place she had considered dirty and off-limits.
“It’s on,” Amaya said.
“Good. Now get a firm grip and pull out,” Wesley said.
She moaned as she pulled it out, but as soon as it was out, Wesley was commanding her to push it back in. Seconds later, he was telling her to pull out again. Back and forth he ordered her, not giving her a second to recover between thrusts. With Wesley’s guidance, Amaya fucked her own ass.
What a fucking it was. The tightness of her ass focused all her thoughts on that tiny hole. The wet shirt and bra clinging to her breasts were forgotten. The aches in her legs from bending over were unimportant. Even Wesley’s instructions were forgotten and becoming second nature as the vibrator slid in and out of her ass.
The only exception was Amaya’s pussy. Neglected and left alone, her sex was aching to be touched. The vibrations from the toy teased her cunt. She wanted to use her other hand to masturbate, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her balance if she did. More importantly, Wesley hadn’t instructed her to.
“Now Amaya, let’s really fuck that ass now. Start thrusting as hard as you can, like I would.”
Just the thought of Wesley fucking her ass made her moan. She shoved the small toy into her ass, almost buckling under the force of her own hand. Pulling out was almost orgasmic as the pressure relented only briefly before increasing painfully once the toy slid back in. Amaya didn’t hold back at all. Over and over again, she rammed her tight ass, grunting and moaning with each thrust.
Wesley moaned, a small sound, but the effect on Amaya was electric. She was turning Wesley on, and that took precedent over how sore her ass was any day. It encouraged her to shove the toy in deeper, harder and faster. Her own moans mixed with his into an erotic audio feedback that prompted her to let go and moan as loudly and as often as she wanted.
Although her pussy was untouched, Amaya could feel the swell of an orgasm begin within her. It was impossible, but she had come to expect the impossible when it came to Wesley. Her hand fucked her ass faster, chasing after those stirrings of bliss rising up inside her. She didn’t care if she was too loud. A class of students could come walking by, and Amaya wouldn’t stop. She just had to come. She had to come for Wesley.
“Oh, God,” she cried as her orgasm bloomed full force within her. She fell forward onto the table as her ass clenched tightly around the vibrator. Shivers traveled all over her body, shaking every part of her from her lips to the tips of her toes. Something slid down her cheek, and she thought it was rain but when it touched her lips she realized it was a tear.
“Oh, God,” Amaya repeated.
“Interesting,” Wesley said. “It’s nice to know that when I fuck your ass myself, you might derive some pleasure from it.”
She shivered again. A pain lanced her ass, and this time she whimpered. What had felt so intimate and erotic a moment ago now felt like a painful invasion. Not even the afterglow could cover the feeling of being split apart.
“Can I remove the vibrator now?” Amaya asked.
“Yes, but go slowly,” Wesley said. “You don’t want an accident.”
She didn’t ask what kind of accident he meant. Truth was, she didn’t really want to know. For some reason, she was overcome with a deep sense of shame at what she had done. Perhaps the orgasm had satisfied whatever craving had allowed her to violate her body this way. At the same time, she couldn’t forget how aroused and excited Wesley had sounded. As much as she still hated the idea of anal sex, she knew she would do it again if he wanted.
Her ass was terribly tender. She turned the vibrator off and slowly pulled it out. Every inch was a relief. When it was finally out, Amaya whimpered gratefully. She put the toy on the desk and pulled her skirt down. The toy looked so small for all the trouble it caused her.
“Be sure to clean it thoroughly when you get back to your room,” Wesley said. “If you want to experiment with it, clean it every time.”
“OK,” she said in a daze. “My ass is so sore right now.”
Wesley laughed. “It’ll get better. Just wait till you take a real cock there.”
“For now, I want you to clean up your mess. Underneath the desk, up against the wall is a towel. Use it to clean up any lubricant you left behind. This is a library, after all.”
Amaya bent to look under the desk and winced as her sore ass protested the motion. The towel was right where he’d said it would be. She frowned as she used it to mop the desk. If she’d known it was there, she could have dried off some. Oh, well. She had a feeling Wesley wouldn’t have allowed her to, anyway.
“It’s clean,” she said.
“Good. At the end of this aisle, there’s a bright blue book on the top shelf. Inside it is an envelope. Be sure to read the note. I have enjoyed myself immensely today, Amaya. I hope you last through the next challenge.”
He hung up before she could ask him what he meant. It was just as well. He wouldn’t have told her, anyway.
She walked to the end of the shelf and saw the book he was referring to. The envelope was small this time. She worried that it wasn’t big enough to hold her money. At the same time, she wondered if he even needed to pay her any more. Would she have fucked her ass just for his approval? Most likely.
Her fears were unfounded. Inside the small envelope were twelve $100 bills. She looked in amazement at the cash. What in the world was she ever going to spend it on?
A note was included. She read it and then read it again. The words made her forget all about the pain
Dear Amaya,
It might be a while before I contact you again. That’s if I contact you at all. Use this time well. Enjoy your money and your memories.
She couldn’t believe what she had read.
Had Wesley just broken up with her?
She got in the shower because it was the only place that she could get that all-over sensation she was craving. Standing under the water, she closed her eyes and imagined being back at the house. Every drop of water became a finger tracing her body, and the patter of the shower became the chatter of the unknown boys.
Her hands kept curling. Walking to the showers, her hands had curled. Standing under water, her fingers curled around imaginary cocks. Anytime she was distracted, her hands resumed the shapes they’d held for hours last night. It was like her body was eager to grasp cock once more and give pleasure. Amaya couldn’t get over how her body was acting almost independently of her. This wasn’t what she expected when she came to college!
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The water rained down on her back as she thought about it. What was she doing here? Her parents had always wanted a child in college. Here she was, and she didn’t even have a major. In the back of her mind, she had expected that something would attract her interest and that she would pursue that as a career. Instead, she had come to college and discovered there was no magic answer to what to do with her life. Well, except for Wesley, and for that matter, men like him.
Amaya stood there under the water and considered what kind of answer Wesley was. Could she really do this all the time? She was a smart girl; wasn’t she supposed to aspire to being more than just a kinky slut? As much as she thought she should be focusing on college, she couldn’t deny how great she felt when she was playing Wesley’s games. It gave her a sense of purpose even if that purpose was to be used for someone else’s enjoyment. Pleasing Wesley was a hell of a lot more fun that pleasing her parents had been.
When she finally finished her shower, Amaya returned to her room and got dressed for the day. Wesley’s envelope yesterday had contained a stack of twenties along with two other surprises. There was a very small green vibrator, along with a little bottle of lube. The vibrator was small, but it had a strange wide base that was much wider than it was long. There was no note, but Amaya felt it would be best to pack the two with her today. She certainly didn’t want Wesley to call and her not be ready for him.
She wore a yellow floral print skirt so she could use the vibrator without stripping. The idea of not wearing any underwear appealed to her, and she decided to dare it. To go with the skirt, she opted for a white t-shirt over a light pink bra. Amaya felt light and summery, as well as horny just thinking about what Wesley might have her use that vibrator for.
Despite the vibrator and lube in her purse, Amaya was able to turn her attention to her classes. She took notes and paid attention to the lectures like a good student. Part of her was still unsure whether college was what she really wanted to do, but Wesley had been clear on how he felt about her classes, so she kept at it. Besides, it was easier waiting for his phone call if she had something to do.
The bright sunshine of the morning gave way to unexpected afternoon showers. Amaya had just finished a biology class, and she had a few hours before her next class. She looked out the window and realized her skirt and t-shirt were going to get soaked. It would be a cold, wet walk back to her dorm, but she knew she had to change her clothes.
The cell phone rang. Amaya moaned as she answered it but she also felt her heart race. What game did he have today?
“Nice little rain shower, isn’t it?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, I was heading for my dorm,” Amaya said.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Wesley said. “Do you have my gift from yesterday?”
Amaya blushed. “Yes, but I’m still at my biology class.”
Wesley laughed. “Slow down, my horny girl. I don’t want you to fuck yourself in class. At least not today. No, for now I want you to go to the library. Call me when you get there.”
The rain increased in intensity as Amaya watched. He hadn’t give her a deadline for going, but she wasn’t going to push it. She tightened her grip on backpack and went running into the rain.
The cold rain felt good at first. It had been a hot day, and running in the rain was a nice relief. Before long, though, the rain soaked through her clothes and drenched her to the skin. Her shirt clung to her chest, and Amaya was horrified to see that her nipples were clearly visible despite the bra she was wearing.
She didn’t stop running till she got to the library. The man behind the circulation counter frowned when he saw Amaya walk in dripping, but his frown faded as he stared at her chest. She blushed as she took out her phone and dialed Wesley.
“That was very fast,” he said. “I’m proud of you. Now, turn right from the entrance and go all the way ’til you reach the stairs. Go down them.”
Amaya did as he commanded, dripping as she walked. The cold air in the library froze the water on her, making her nipples rock hard. Her skirt clung to her legs, and she didn’t like how transparent the material had become. Was her sex visible? She couldn’t be sure, but she walked faster all the same.
The stairs were not easy to find. They were located in the older half of the library, where lightning and space management apparently hadn’t been needed. The stairs themselves were so narrow that Amaya wondered whether the library’s original students had been midgets. At least it was warmer downstairs. The lack of air-conditioning might have been unbearable any other day, but for now, Amaya was grateful for any amount of heat she could find.
“OK, I’m downstairs,” she told Wesley.
“All right. Head to your left and keep walking. When you get to a turn, follow it to the end.”
Amaya followed his directions and navigated the tight aisles. Bookshelves were crowded upon one another like trees competing for sunlight. Out of curiosity, she looked at a few shelves to see what forgotten tomes were here. Most of them appeared to be magazine archives, while other shelves contained old textbooks. It was like a graveyard for the written word.
The sounds of the basement only reinforced the graveyard mentality. Pipes criss-crossed the ceiling, rattling against each other briefly before falling silent. Amaya’s footsteps echoed in the basement, and the floors creaked loudly at times when she walked over them. Somewhere a door slammed and she was confused. There weren’t any doors down here, yet she had heard the door as clearly as if it were five feet away from her.
Along the way, she saw several study areas tucked along the walls. They were pretty spartan, containing only a plastic chair, a bolted-in desk and a single desk light. It was to one of these study areas that Wesley’s directions guided her. Amaya felt a surge of excitement run through her. The desk was isolated, but if someone were to pass by her aisle, they would see her doing whatever it was that Wesley wanted from her.
“I’m at the desk,” Amaya said.
“I hope you brought your headset,” Wesley said. “Or else you’re going to get a very sore neck.”
“I always bring it,” she said. She fished the headphones out of her book bag and plugged them into the cell. The excitement welled up inside her. There was no doubt he would ask her to fuck herself here. It was frightening to do it in such a public place, but at the same time, she preferred it to being fucked by other people. She’d take Wesley on the phone over frat guys in person any day.
“I saw that you wore a skirt today,” he said. “Are you wearing underwear?”
“No,” Amaya answered.
“Smart girl. Have you ever used lubricant before?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve never really had a problem getting wet.”
Wesley chuckled. “You will today. There should be a book on the desk. A brown one.”
“It’s here,” she said.
“Open it towards the center. It should stay open on its own. That way, if anyone walks by, you’ll have an easier time pretending you are reading.”
“OK,” she said. She had to resist laughing. The excitement was making her giddy. Instead of performing a difficult task, she felt like she was collaborating with Wesley. It reminded her of sneaking off with her boyfriend to make out.
“Get the lube out, and squirt a little into your hand,” he said. “Be careful, it will be cold to begin with. Rub it in your hand to warm it to room temperature.”
The lube wasn’t just cold: It was freezing. Amaya shivered as she massaged it in her fingers. She was also surprised by how slippery it was. Granted, she’d figured lubricant would be slick, but she was amazed by how smooth it felt. You could grease a square wheel with this stuff.
“It’s warm now,” she said.
“Now use your finger to coat your asshole with the lube.”
“Excuse me?” Amaya said.
“You heard me,” Wesley said.
She had heard him, but she still couldn’t believe it. Her asshole? He couldn’t be serious! John, her ex-boyfriend, always wanted to fuck her ass, but she had refused. It was too humiliating. Why would anyone want to fuck her ass?
“Have you done it yet?” Wesley asked.
“I’m working on it,” she lied. As she said it, she realized she would do it. Wesley had asked for it, so he obviously wanted it. The idea scared her, but she couldn’t find the strength to tell him no.
With one hand, she lifted her skirt over her waist. The skirt wouldn’t stay up, so she bent over the desk and raised her skirt over her hips. She massaged the lube over her asshole, flinching as she worked. The lube was so slippery over her ass, Amaya couldn’t help imagining the vibrator sinking straight down her hole.
“Now I’m done,” she said. Her voice only trembled slightly.
“Lube your new vibrator, and quicker this time. You don’t want someone to see you doing it, do you?”
“No, I’ll be faster,” Amaya said. As she coated the vibrator, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t small enough. It was too wide, too long and just too much to put in her ass. How could she do this?
“It’s ready,” she said, though she was far from it.
“Good. Take the tip of the vibrator and place it against your anus. For now, just get the tip into you.”
Still bent over the desk, Amaya reached behind herself with the small vibrator. The vibrator actually slipped over her anus because of all the lube, but with a little balancing, she was able to get the toy in position. Her ass clenched tightly in trepidation.
“It’s there,” she whispered.
“Very slowly push it in,” Wesley said.
She tried, and her ass clenched in response. “I can’t,” Amaya pleaded.
“You will,” he said. “You will, or I hang up. I shouldn’t have to explain this every time.”
She swallowed hard. He was right. She knew that there was no discussion, no bartering and no hesitation allowed. It’s just that what he was asking was frightening and new to her. She had never given her ass to anyone, and now she was being asked to do it in the basement of a library.
She took a deep breath.
She spread her legs wider and braced herself.
She got a firm grip on the vibrator, her fingers wrapping around the wide base.
She pushed it in.
“Oh, God,” Amaya whimpered. Her anus expanded to take the vibrator in, stretching in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
“What does it feel like?” Wesley demanded.
“Like I am torn apart,” Amaya said.
Wesley chuckled. “Push it deeper in.”
Amaya whimpered and did as he asked. The vibrator slid deeper into her, opening her ass with every inch. Her legs trembled as she took it in. She was being impaled and part of her feared it would never come back out. The base prevented her pushing it any deeper.
“It’s in,” she whispered.
“See? That didn’t take long. Now pull it slowly out, but not all the way out, of course.”
“Oh, God,” Amaya said as she began the long pull out. It was inconceivable that such a small vibrator felt so huge inside her. It felt at least a foot long. Every second she spent pulling felt like ages.
“It’s nearly out,” she said.
“Push it in, faster than before.”
She obeyed and cried out as the toy reinvaded her ass. The lube let it slide in quick, thrusting into her like a man. It knocked her forward onto the desk as her knees buckled.
“Pull it back out again,” Wesley commanded.
It slid back quicker this time. Amaya realized her ass was becoming better lubricated. The idea made her blush. She was preparing her ass to be fucked, and her ass was already becoming accustomed to it.
“Push it back in, slow this time.”
“Oh, fuck,” Amaya whispered as the vibrator pushed back in. She tried to do it slowly, but her ass was prepared for more. In fact, it felt a little too slow. Could she possibly be craving the sensation already?
A sound broke her of her thoughts. Even through the hissing and popping of the pipes, she could distinctly hear footsteps. They were getting louder and faster as someone impatiently came closer.
“Someone’s coming,” she hissed. Her first reaction was to stand up, and the vibrator in her ass painfully reminded her of its presence. She winced and then smoothed her skirt down over her ass. Sitting down, she discovered that the hard plastic chair was unforgiving on her ass. The vibrator slid deeper up into her, splitting her open and making her bite her lip in pain.
The lube was still sitting on the desk, so she covered it with her hand. She was just in time as someone walked around the corner. Amaya sneaked a peek and saw that it was a woman. The girl was scanning book titles, slowly working her way to Amaya’s position.
“Have you seen the archives for Purple Truth Monthly?” the girl asked.
Amaya turned slowly towards the girl and shook her head. She was afraid to even speak. It was a paranoid thought, but she felt that if she spoke, the girl would somehow know that Amaya had a vibrator in her ass.
“Damn it,” the girl said. She just stood there, staring at the shelves. Amaya feigned reading from her book and prayed for the girl to leave. It was nerve-wracking to have this stranger so close to her. Any minute, Amaya expected the girl to smell the lubricant, or notice how stiffly she was sitting and started screaming for the librarian. The tension made her clench involuntarily, which just tightened the grip her ass had on the vibrator.
Eventually, the girl turned around and left. Amaya let out a big sigh of air that she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She relaxed a little but not too much. She was still impaled on that vibrator, after all.
“Get back into position,” Wesley commanded.
“I’m not sure she’s left the basement,” Amaya said.
“I don’t care. Get back into position.”
Looking first to see if anyone was around, she stood back up and bent over the desk. She lifted her skirt back over her ass so she could reach the vibrator. As sensitive as she thought her ass was, actually touching the toy again sent new shockwaves through her body. She clenched her eyes as the sensations rode through her, and it was Wesley’s voice that brought her back.
“Now, Amaya, I think it’s past time you fucked your ass for me, isn’t it?”
“OK,” she said simply.
“Get a firm grip on your toy, and turn it on.”
The vibrator’s wide base had a dial on the bottom, so it was easy to reach. However, twisting the dial to the on position put pressure on the toy that only created new sensations in her ass. The pleasant vibrations added to those feelings, making her ass come alive in ways she couldn’t have ever imagined. It was so strange to her. She would have never imagined she could have experienced so many different feelings from a place she had considered dirty and off-limits.
“It’s on,” Amaya said.
“Good. Now get a firm grip and pull out,” Wesley said.
She moaned as she pulled it out, but as soon as it was out, Wesley was commanding her to push it back in. Seconds later, he was telling her to pull out again. Back and forth he ordered her, not giving her a second to recover between thrusts. With Wesley’s guidance, Amaya fucked her own ass.
What a fucking it was. The tightness of her ass focused all her thoughts on that tiny hole. The wet shirt and bra clinging to her breasts were forgotten. The aches in her legs from bending over were unimportant. Even Wesley’s instructions were forgotten and becoming second nature as the vibrator slid in and out of her ass.
The only exception was Amaya’s pussy. Neglected and left alone, her sex was aching to be touched. The vibrations from the toy teased her cunt. She wanted to use her other hand to masturbate, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her balance if she did. More importantly, Wesley hadn’t instructed her to.
“Now Amaya, let’s really fuck that ass now. Start thrusting as hard as you can, like I would.”
Just the thought of Wesley fucking her ass made her moan. She shoved the small toy into her ass, almost buckling under the force of her own hand. Pulling out was almost orgasmic as the pressure relented only briefly before increasing painfully once the toy slid back in. Amaya didn’t hold back at all. Over and over again, she rammed her tight ass, grunting and moaning with each thrust.
Wesley moaned, a small sound, but the effect on Amaya was electric. She was turning Wesley on, and that took precedent over how sore her ass was any day. It encouraged her to shove the toy in deeper, harder and faster. Her own moans mixed with his into an erotic audio feedback that prompted her to let go and moan as loudly and as often as she wanted.
Although her pussy was untouched, Amaya could feel the swell of an orgasm begin within her. It was impossible, but she had come to expect the impossible when it came to Wesley. Her hand fucked her ass faster, chasing after those stirrings of bliss rising up inside her. She didn’t care if she was too loud. A class of students could come walking by, and Amaya wouldn’t stop. She just had to come. She had to come for Wesley.
“Oh, God,” she cried as her orgasm bloomed full force within her. She fell forward onto the table as her ass clenched tightly around the vibrator. Shivers traveled all over her body, shaking every part of her from her lips to the tips of her toes. Something slid down her cheek, and she thought it was rain but when it touched her lips she realized it was a tear.
“Oh, God,” Amaya repeated.
“Interesting,” Wesley said. “It’s nice to know that when I fuck your ass myself, you might derive some pleasure from it.”
She shivered again. A pain lanced her ass, and this time she whimpered. What had felt so intimate and erotic a moment ago now felt like a painful invasion. Not even the afterglow could cover the feeling of being split apart.
“Can I remove the vibrator now?” Amaya asked.
“Yes, but go slowly,” Wesley said. “You don’t want an accident.”
She didn’t ask what kind of accident he meant. Truth was, she didn’t really want to know. For some reason, she was overcome with a deep sense of shame at what she had done. Perhaps the orgasm had satisfied whatever craving had allowed her to violate her body this way. At the same time, she couldn’t forget how aroused and excited Wesley had sounded. As much as she still hated the idea of anal sex, she knew she would do it again if he wanted.
Her ass was terribly tender. She turned the vibrator off and slowly pulled it out. Every inch was a relief. When it was finally out, Amaya whimpered gratefully. She put the toy on the desk and pulled her skirt down. The toy looked so small for all the trouble it caused her.
“Be sure to clean it thoroughly when you get back to your room,” Wesley said. “If you want to experiment with it, clean it every time.”
“OK,” she said in a daze. “My ass is so sore right now.”
Wesley laughed. “It’ll get better. Just wait till you take a real cock there.”
“For now, I want you to clean up your mess. Underneath the desk, up against the wall is a towel. Use it to clean up any lubricant you left behind. This is a library, after all.”
Amaya bent to look under the desk and winced as her sore ass protested the motion. The towel was right where he’d said it would be. She frowned as she used it to mop the desk. If she’d known it was there, she could have dried off some. Oh, well. She had a feeling Wesley wouldn’t have allowed her to, anyway.
“It’s clean,” she said.
“Good. At the end of this aisle, there’s a bright blue book on the top shelf. Inside it is an envelope. Be sure to read the note. I have enjoyed myself immensely today, Amaya. I hope you last through the next challenge.”
He hung up before she could ask him what he meant. It was just as well. He wouldn’t have told her, anyway.
She walked to the end of the shelf and saw the book he was referring to. The envelope was small this time. She worried that it wasn’t big enough to hold her money. At the same time, she wondered if he even needed to pay her any more. Would she have fucked her ass just for his approval? Most likely.
Her fears were unfounded. Inside the small envelope were twelve $100 bills. She looked in amazement at the cash. What in the world was she ever going to spend it on?
A note was included. She read it and then read it again. The words made her forget all about the pain
Dear Amaya,
It might be a while before I contact you again. That’s if I contact you at all. Use this time well. Enjoy your money and your memories.
She couldn’t believe what she had read.
Had Wesley just broken up with her?
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
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.
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“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.
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.
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“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.
Monday, July 10, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Secret Geek Sunday-Pirates and Prisoners
Let me explain something about how teenagers play Dungeons and Dragons. They are less heroic righters of wrongs and more like exterminators of anything that moves in an unending quest to convert monster and villains into gold and treasure. Fourteen year old Shon knew twelve different tactics for killing a dragon and exactly zero methods for befriending a strange new creature that might be friendly. Dungeons and Dragons now stresses role-playing and creating interesting personal interactions but back in the 80’s, it taught us to explore, kill and loot in that order. You know, we would have made kick ass Conquistadores or Halliburton employees.
In Dungeons and Dragons most of our adventures were home made. Someone would play the Dungeon Master and create a maze on graph paper that we the players would explore and slaughter. Orcs viciously defended ten feet by thirty feet rooms with doors that were placed symmetrically on the map. We became adepts at cleaning out these unnatural caves that had right angles and ten by ten corridors.
However there were also Dungeons that we could buy that were designed by well, adults. They were called Modules, and we loved playing them because they contained weird wacky stuff like plots and creatures that we had never seen before that needed to be killed. One of these Modules as you may have guessed by now, took place on a freaking Pirate Ship.
‘Sinister Secret of Salt Marsh’ is about a not really haunted house that is home to some pirate smugglers. The first half of the module is dull as spit but once you realize there are pirates and you find out where their ship is, holy fuck does it get exciting.
From the moment we snuck on board the ship, my brain started to look at the whole adventure differently. We’re weren’t breaking into another dungeon, we were boarding a ship and we were fighting hard cruel men who made a living of well, invading other ships and taking what they wanted. It made me question how we played, and what our motives were. We assumed we were the heroes, but we would slaughter any monster for a gold piece. Sure, we called ourselves knights, wizards and rogues but it struck me that there was very little moral difference between us and pirates.
Except these guys had a home. It was called a ship and man, I was jealous.
Look at all the cool places on this ship,
A crow’s nest for being really high up.
A galley where very excited people cook.
A very spacious Captain’s quarters where you don’t have to make up your bed.
I have talked before about how crappy my home life was as a teenager. Role-playing games were my escape from the constant humiliation and insecurity I was dealing with. Dungeons and Dragons let me get out my aggression but once I saw this pirate ship, I wanted more out of my games. I wanted a home to replace the crappy one I had. I wanted a place that would serve as my home and my vehicle for having adventures far away from the mundane of where I lived. As we wiped out the pirates, I couldn’t shake the feeling that these guys were living a better life than I was. I also felt as a nerd and a someone with little social skills, that pirates were just as much outcasts as I was.
And then we found a brig with a naked elf are chained to the floor.
Let’s talk about the naked chained elf. Frequently in Dungeons and Dragons we run across prisoners whom we free, take home and their happy families reward us with money. Usually these prisoners are locked away like the treasure they are. This guy was naked, probably because the module was written in the United Kingdom where they are less puritanical than us. But I distinctly remember thinking, why the hell did pirates have a naked elf chained in the brig?
Keep in mind that fourteen year old Shon had no concept of rape. Keep in mind that my brain was high on hormones and an awakening sex drive. Keep in mind that I didn’t really have a concept of bondage, domination or submissives. Got all that in mind? Good. Cause here’s what I thought as my friends were stealing clothes off of dead pirates to put on poor naked elf prisoner.
“I want my own naked elf to lock up. And I want her to be a woman.”
I was a smidge disturbed by that thought. I knew then that I was identifying with the pirates and I was a little jealous of the pirates because they had a cool ship and a home. I was already thinking of how cool it would be if we started playing Pirates and took our effective Kill and Loot methods to the high seas. But when we ran across a chained up naked person, I couldn’t help putting myself in the Pirates’ place and thinking, “Who would I chain up in own pirate brig? What would I do with them once they were there?” As a kid I was a little freaked. These pirates were the bad guys and here I am wishing really hard that I could be them and have my own prisoners to chain up.
Twenty years later, I still have fantasies about who I want chained up in my pirate ship. My fantasies are far more consensual now and I am much more comfortable with them. I have my own home now with a place to chain naked women up but I still think fondly of that impossible ideal of a ship that takes you to new adventures where you live your own lifestyle in spite of what society expects of you. And of course, plenty of places to tie up naked women. I'm not a pirate and I don't say 'arrrggg', but I will never forget that my first BDSM lust was sitting around playing Dungeons and Dragons on board a pirate ship.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
S.P.A.N.C.
S.P.A.N.C. is a game about Space Pirate Amazon Ninja Catgirls. Illustrated by the great Phil Foglio, this card game is a self contained box set of sexy pirate goodness. If you don't have a gaming bone in your body, you should still own this game just for the art. I had planned to do a technical breakdown of how to play the game but since this is Pirate Week, we'll just show a bunch of saucy pictures and get the blood pumping. Click Whole Post for a bunch of lewdness.
See, S.P.A.N.C. is a game of
Space Pirate
Amazon
Ninja
Catgirls
who equip themselves with such toys like
Bandanas,
Stabby spikey things,
Soft soled shoes,
and Sailor suits
to overcome the challenges that rise during a daring caper like
Bad Rum,
Angry monkeys,
Feindish Death Traps,
And Junior Officers,
In order to gather loot, wealth and the greatest prize of all,
The Poolboys
This is what a Pirate Game should be all about.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Why Pirates?
If I had a gold doubloon for every time a person asked me that, I’d have a treasure chest worthy of burying on some secret shore. To me, it is a silly question. A better question is why don’t we all love pirates every waking moment?
As with most things, I started young. I was four when a movie called “Star Wars” came out, and even as a kid, I recognized how awesome it was that Han Solo had his own ship. The Millennium Falcon was tricked out with cool guns, a place for smuggling stuff and its own holographic chess game. As a young boy who left his small hometown only once every other year, I found the idea of a cool ship that could take you to faraway places to be pure magic.
So as I grew up, I always favored stories with ships. Jason and the Argonauts, Sinbad, Flash Gordon and Star Trek were all great, and to me they were all possible because they had ships. Spaceships, sailing ships or even black vans with a red stripe were all plot devices to me. They enabled the adventure, and there was nothing more I wanted than my own ship. I wanted adventures, and more important, I wanted to travel there.
So, as you can imagine, I took to pirates any time they appeared. It wasn’t ’til my teenage years, though, that I really developed a fondness for them. I have always been a sexual person, and I have often been frustrated by what I perceive to be a lack of sexual excitement in my friends. I always feel like the pervert in any group I am in, and it has made me feel like an outcast over the years.
Toss in the fact that I am a geeky nerd, and I feel more outcast.
When I became interested in domination, I felt ten times the outcast.
When my wife and I became poly, even kinky people looked at us funny.
And writing erotica as a hobby does not make for easy casual party conversation.
I’m not saying that I’m better than anyone else or that I feel so far removed from other people that no one is like me. What I do feel, though, is that society as a whole disapproves of me. I know there are people further out there than I, but I feel in general that I would not be accepted by the average person on the street. I’m OK with that, but man, does it make me hungry to find people more like me.
And in that way, I feel a lot of sympathy for pirates. In a lot of pirate fiction, pirates are the ones having the fun. What defines pirates is often their adversarial relationship with society. They have no nation to back them up, they are looked down upon by polite society and they often fall prey to other pirates who are greedy for their loot. I have read a lot of historical accounts of pirates, and I know that real pirates were often pure scum, but deep down, I admire people who decided to fly their own flag and take on the world for their own personal interests.
And here is the part that really gets me: These outcasts, these people with no nation or port to call their own, they somehow manage to find enough people just like themselves to crew a ship. Not only that, they create their own rules and elect a captain. These men who cannot function with their fellow man somehow manage to find a way to create their own rules with kindred spirits.
As a geek, I totally understand that.
As a kinky person, I totally understand that.
As a poly person, I practice that.
And as an erotica writer, I feel that way with my readers and other writers.
There are other bits that appeal to me, but the sense of kinship and adventure are the big ones. In that spirit, I ask you to join me on a week of high adventure where I shall attempt to explore strange fetishes in this ship we call a blog. Where we will plunder some sexy tales and bury some forbidden pleasures deep in the islands of your imagination. This is a voyage that may leave you a little shaken, a little amused and very horny. Ultimately, though, I hope it is a voyage you never have to take alone.
Afterglow Movie Review- PoTC Deadman's chest
Subject- Pirates of the MOTHERFUCKIN Caribbean- Deadman's AWESOME Chest
Feeling- Arrrggg!
Favorite Part- "Actually, you only need six people to crew the ship. Oh bugger."
Least Favorite Part- Some gross bits in the beginning that never happen again. Makes me wonder what that bit was for.
Egotistical Observation Because I Fancy Myself a Writer- The black female pirate who gives Jack so much shit in the first movie isn't around at all, which dissappoints me because I thought one female pirate cast member would have given his crew a more bohemian appearance.
Did I Want to Plunder and Swordfight afterwards- Aye!
Was There A Last Scene At The End Of The Credits- Yes, and it's worth it.
Final Thought- Sea monsters, cannibals, witches, betrayal, returning characters, audacious stunts, a three man swordfight, superb exposition and equal parts humor and terror. Cripes, why can't all movies be this full of goodness?
And Pirate Week has officially started here at Erotiterrorist!
Feeling- Arrrggg!
Favorite Part- "Actually, you only need six people to crew the ship. Oh bugger."
Least Favorite Part- Some gross bits in the beginning that never happen again. Makes me wonder what that bit was for.
Egotistical Observation Because I Fancy Myself a Writer- The black female pirate who gives Jack so much shit in the first movie isn't around at all, which dissappoints me because I thought one female pirate cast member would have given his crew a more bohemian appearance.
Did I Want to Plunder and Swordfight afterwards- Aye!
Was There A Last Scene At The End Of The Credits- Yes, and it's worth it.
Final Thought- Sea monsters, cannibals, witches, betrayal, returning characters, audacious stunts, a three man swordfight, superb exposition and equal parts humor and terror. Cripes, why can't all movies be this full of goodness?
And Pirate Week has officially started here at Erotiterrorist!
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Gone fucking Till July 7th
My wife has decided to take off a lot of time this coming week. It's hard enough to get my At-home job done with her around much less any creative writing and blogging. Rather than stress myself out, I've decided to take a mini-blog vacation till July 7th. I think I will still be commenting on blogs, and I know I'll be writing, but I just want to tone down the pressure of getting anything done on a timely manner.
Plus my wife will be home. We got spanking practice and wild fucking to do.
Why July 7th? That's the day the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie comes out, and incidently kicks off Pirate Week here at Erotiterrorist. Why start a week long event on a Friday? Because that's how pirates do things, wench! They got their own crazy rules and do things their way. So come back on July 7th for seven days of pirate related posts, a pirate Secret Geek Sunday, lots of pirate porn and maybe even a Pirate HNT.
In the meantime, I'll be fucking. See you on Pirate Week!
Plus my wife will be home. We got spanking practice and wild fucking to do.
Why July 7th? That's the day the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie comes out, and incidently kicks off Pirate Week here at Erotiterrorist. Why start a week long event on a Friday? Because that's how pirates do things, wench! They got their own crazy rules and do things their way. So come back on July 7th for seven days of pirate related posts, a pirate Secret Geek Sunday, lots of pirate porn and maybe even a Pirate HNT.
In the meantime, I'll be fucking. See you on Pirate Week!
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