Woody Allen once said that sex was the most fun he'd ever had without laughing. But laughing and sex are not mutually exclusive. Horniness brings on undignified behaviour, and it is all the more fun if we are in on the joke. This blog is a celebration of the funny side of sex and the sexy side of humour. As an author of erotic stories I like to show that sex is more fun when it is playful and silly.

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Saturday, March 5, 2011

The Libertine : A Pirate Tale

Sometimes a start a story and never finish it. Here is the beginning of what I intended to be a pirate epic. Let me know what you think. I could always continue it if there is any interest.

Chapter One : It Takes a Thief

An ear-splitting crack of thunder shook Agatha into instant wakefulness. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. She must have slept for a long time as night had fallen and all around her was pitch blackness. A moment after the thunder the rain began to fall, heavy drops soaking through her simple peasant dress. She felt it splash against the naked skin of her bust and run down between her breasts. For a while her petticoats kept her legs dry, but soon she would be soaked to the skin. She had fallen asleep in the  drowsy afternoon summer heat, but now she began to shiver with the cold.

“Damn!” she cried, when she realised that her precious book would be ruined.

She had fallen asleep over a well-thumbed copy of “Captain Blood”. With the sun inducing a languid drowsiness she had fallen back on the soft grass and imagined being shipwrecked on a desert isle with a burly tattooed pirate. The kind of man who would use his shining hook to rip off her  flimsy dress, throw her over his knee and spank her soft naked bottom with his one remaining calloused hand. But after letting out a lusty belly laugh, he’d take a swig of rum, shrug off his clothes and reign down kisses on her every secret place with surprisingly soft lips and a sparkle of mischievous glea in his one remaining eye.

With a soft sigh she had lifted her dress and her petticoats and let the sun kiss her bare pussy lips through the gap in her bloomers.

“Shiver me timbers, Cap’n,” she breathed, as she gently began to rub her tender clit and dip her fingers into her dripping wetness.

Laying there under her favourite tree at the edge of the cliff, the farm stretching out golden brown in the sun behind her and the sea crashing over the rocks far below, her quivering squeals of pleasure where swallowed up by the wind and the screech of circling gulls as her back arched in ecstasy and arms and legs twitched in spasms of pleasure.

A wave of warm happiness spread over her, but she knew it would not last. This was a brief break from her daily grind of milking and cheese-churning and housekeeping for her stern father.

She knew how to enjoy a woman’s pleasures, but sometimes she wished she’d been born a man. The life of a milkmaid was a life of tedium. She longed to climb a mizzen mast and survey the horizon from a swaying crows nest, to spend her nights drinking rum and sharing a bawdy jest.

But those thoughts were now a distant memory as she stood shivering in the pitch blackness, the wind whipping savagely at her dress. She longed for the warmth and comfort of her bed, but she knew that before she could get there she would face the inevitable punishment from her father.

Just as she was about to turn for home, lightning lit up the glowering sky and the raging sea beneath. There before her, shockingly close to shore, was a schooner under full sail. Where her eyes playing tricks on her she wondered as the velvety darkness fell once more.

*                   *                  *

When the lightning flashed, a rain-sodden seagull tossed and buffeted by the savage winds, might have seen Captain Bullfinch, his shirt open to reveal his barrel-chest and sleeves rolled up over his bulging biceps, struggling to steer his ship towards the mouth of Blood River, so known to pirates like himself because the setting sun sometimes coloured it a deep shade of red. The rain drenched his curly blond hair and bushy beard, soaking through his shirt, discoloured with sweat and not a little blood. His left shoulder was decorated with a tattoo of an octopus wrapped around an anchor, and his loose black pantaloons were held up by a three-inch wide leather belt.

If seagulls could read, it would have seen that the name of the ship was “The Libertine”. And if it looked a little closer it might have seen that this name was painted on over the carved in outline of the ship’s old name, “H.M.S. Venus”.

“I’ve had blue balls for Saucy Sally’s cunt since we left the Caribbean,” growled Old Monkeybreath, “The Libertine”’s first mate.

“First things first,” Bullfinch barked. “The ship has to be stocked with water and provisions for our next six months at sea before you even start to think about your touching reunion with that golden-hearted haven of the pox.”

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” the mate replied, finishing off the last of the ship’s rum.

“How would you like to play at walking the plank, you mutinous dog,” Bullfinch roared, as the tossing sea threw him hard to port. Monkeybreath, being far from sober stumbled across the rain-slick deck. “You won’t be too bland for the sharks,” the captain added, as the port railing knocked the wind from his mate’s lungs.

*                   *                  *

Agatha, shivering and blue with the cold, hid behind a tree and watched as “The Libertine” sailed up the river which ran along the border of the farm.

A short muscular man threw the anchor over the side of the ship, another man threw down a rope ladder and the men began to climb down it onto the riverbank.

“I think they’re pirates,” she said to herself. Only pirates would anchor away from a major port. And those certainly didn’t look like sailor suits they were wearing.

One of the men particularly caught her attention. A tall man with a barrel chest and curly blond hair. He seemed to be the leader. No sooner was he ashore and he began to strip off his clothes. He had tattoos on his chest and bicep, but she couldn’t make out the design. She did, however, notice the way the muscles rippled on his back and the firmness of his buttocks as he walked naked down to the edge of the river and plunged in. It must have been freezing.

A short while later he had dressed himself in a gentleman’s tweed suit and top hat and was headed off up the river to the bridge which carried the road into town.

At that moment Agatha made a decision which would change her whole life. She ran back to the farm house. She would take her father’s spanking. But it would be the last. When everyone was asleep, she would steal some of her brother’s clothes, cut off most of her hair and return to the pirate ship. She was sure that there would be some opportunity to sneak aboard if she was patient enough.

*                   *                  *
As Bullfinch walked through the streets of London noone would have ever suspected that he was a pirate. He blended perfectly into the crowd.

They knew him at his favourite tavern, Davey Jone’s Locker, but noone there would give away his secret. He was a valuable customer.

He pushed through the door, making the transition from the clear star-spangled night to the smoky warmth and raucous noise of the tavern. There was his mate’s sweetheart Saucy Sally pouring a pint of beer while a customer’s hand wandered under her skirt.

“Hi, Sally!” he cried, slapping her on the arse. “Old Monkeybreath’ll probably be here tomorrow. Just don’t let him give you anything he might of picked up from those dusky island maidens.”

“You mean he hasn’t been faithful to me!” she cried in mock indignation.

“That guy’d fuck a rhinoceros if there weren’t a woman handy,” he chided her.

“Whose the new girl?”  he asked, indicating a pretty young thing serving demurely behind the bar, as scenes of unimaginable debauchery took place on all sides.

“That’s Kate,” Sally replied. “You won’t have much luck there. A pretty face, but she belongs in a  nunnery.”

“Perhaps I’ll be the one to warm her heart. Or another place,” he laughed.

She wished him good luck as an old gentleman scooped her right breast out of her bodice and began to suck happily on her nipple, something she seemed to treat as the equivalent of a tip. Sally was a woman whose sensuality was never discouraged by the ugliness or lack of hygiene of those who might attend to it.

“Your finest rum,” Bullfinch declared to the pretty Kate as he plunked a gold sovereign on the bar. “And there could be more of those if you decide to be friendly to a tired sailor.”

“I’m friendly to all the customers,” Kate replied. “But never familiar.”

“No, I didn’t think you looked familiar,” Bullfinch replied.
*                   *                   *
Deciding that there would be plenty of time to pursue the pleasures of the flesh once he was more rested, Bullfinch retired early and was soon snoring with his bag of gold sovereigns on the table by his bed.

But a man who lives by his wits is a light sleeper, and he was instantly wide awake when he heard the soft step of a bare foot beside the bed. His hand shot out to the bag of gold, and wrapped around a tender female hand currently occupied in burrowing within it.

Grabbing a fistful of hair with his other hand he brought the girl’s face down next to his own.

“I said you might get some more if you were friendly. Stealing isn’t very friendly,” he whispered.

“Stealing?” asked Kate. “I wasn’t trying to steal any. I was just making sure it was safe.”

“Never try to steal from a professional thief,” he advised her. Then he sat up in bed and pulled her down over his lap.

“I think I better go now, sir,” she whimpered.

“Not until you’ve learned your lesson,” he replied, sliding a rough hand up the soft skin of her legs until, with a skip of his heart and a swelling of his cock he felt the goosebumped flesh of her naked bottom. For a moment he enjoyed the feel of her soft fleshy mounds. “My, my, such a cold bottom for a warm-hearted girl. But don’t worry, I’ll soon get it warmed up.”

“Don’t!” she squealed, wriggling against the place where the bedsheet covered his rock hard cock.

Grabbing the neck of her flimsy night-gown he quickly ripped it down the back and pulled it out from under her. It was so insubstantial that he was able to push the whole of it easily into her mouth.

“Mmmmmnnnphhh,” she protested.

“Much better,” he decided.

Lifting his right hand high in the air he began spanking her lovely soft round bottom as she squirmed and wriggled against the stiffness of his prick.

After a few minutes he could feel the warmth of her burning bottom against his hand. Then, pulling her face up to his and kissing her passionately on the lips he felt that the cheeks of her face also burned, such was her shame.

Reaching down between the hot cheeks of her bottom his fingers found the warm wetness of her pussy. It was dripping its juice freely over the bed covers.

“So all it takes to warm up cold Kate is a little spanking, hey?” he smiled.

“Mmnnnffnnn,” she moaned pushing down to feel the length of his big fingers sliding deep into her yearning pussy.

Bullfinch knew where the secrets of a woman’s pleasure lay and he played with her pussy as skilfully as a master musician might play his instrument.

With his other hand he removed the cloth from her mouth.

“That’s better than gold,” she sighed. “Let me under the sheets.  I want to be fucked by a pirate captain’s cock.”

“So that’s how nun’s talk, is it?” the captain laughed, raising the sheets and welcoming her beneath them.

She sighed and nuzzled her soft body against him as he guided her hand to the stiff throbbing source of heat.


  1. I think you should absolutely continue! I'm so glad I found this blog! :-)

  2. Thanks! I'm glad you did too. I'll see what I can come up with. I can't promise an appearance by Captain Feathersword though. :o)