1. Pirate Erotica Chapter 2


    Date: 8/28/2015, Categories: Anal, Hardcore, Shemales, Author: buggiebug10, Rating: 67, Source: xHamster

    me a bit o’ me leg? Chop off another piece? With that he laughs a great and rumbling belly laugh, and he guzzles from a brown and hazy bottle. He belches, that belch a challenge to all. Do ye dare, he shouts to the barely sensible crowd around the room, to question me, yer capatain, though I be but legless, handless, a mere stump, and one-eye Jack? I’m suddenly aware that the crew wants my bl**d. This means that I’m in grave danger. As it dawns on me, I do a double-take. Surely there’s a way for me to live, I say to the captain. He brings his bright red swollen eye back. He scans me head to toe. Surely, I repeat, there must be something I can do to make you want to spare my life. I’ll do anything. I’m much too young to die. I fall to my knees, rather ashamed of my cowardice, but without a leg to stand on, so to speak. There might just be something, he says, there might, but it depends. Enough talk for now. Eat supper, lass, then join us in the orgy. We’ll see if you’ve got what it takes. Show me you can take it proper, even on the brink of death, face to face with the b**st. If ye can raise that small wand of yours, if ye can take a cock in the arse, and pleasure in it on the brink of death, then perhaps we’ll make a bargain with ye. I don’t promise nothin. I’m a thinkin aloud. That’s all. But I might be prevailed upon, if ye give me all ye got. I f***e myself to eat a potato-and-beef stew, though I am a vegetarian. I don’t want to insult the captain. As I eat, the pirates ...
    dine beside me, some of the ranking crew. They have their own coarse language, and I have trouble understanding, and my mind drifts. I am back again in green and pleasant England, in my memory, very vivid. My lovely little fiancee is ill. Each day I ride across my f****y’s ancient estate, down through a gap in the whispering trees below the river crossing, near the south gate. I always stop to listen to the chatter of those particular leaves, for it fills me with airy hope. Here, in a temple of nature, I pray for sweet little Lenore. She is an angel, with the eyes of a doe, the heart of a saint. Her illness is almost too much for me, with my delicate nature, to endure. I will marry her, though she’s of lowly, common stock, and I am almost royalty. But I care nothing at all for titles. To me titles are empty, more empty than chattering leaves. The leaves at least speak the truth of wind and trees. What truth is there in titles? How many a good, hardworking, and honest man do I meet for every heartless aristocrat. And with all our elegance and finery, what good are aristocrats doing? We’re a lot of worthless loafers, pretending superiority. I hate my class. Lenore’s father on the other hand, though he is nothing but a hat maker, is a hard-working decent fellow, kind and generous. My f****y do not bless the marriage, but I care nothing for their ignorant arrogance, and will soon renounce my title, if it indeed comes to that, though I hope they will repent of their stubbornness ...
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