Pirates
Copyright© 2025 by Thinking Horndog
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - "What we've got here is something like an old pirate movie. There's a nice, fat Spanish galleon and an escort cruiser there. If we tangle with the cruiser, she'll fight – or run – or both – and we'll have trouble on our hands. Somebody will get hurt, or worse. The galleon is a different story. She can't fight and she can't run. All she can do is heave to, let us have what we want, and hope we keep her for a prize and not scuttle her." Only this pair were women, not ships...
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Coercion Reluctant Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Interracial Black Male White Female Anal Sex Double Penetration Oral Sex Sex Toys BBW
“The fat one,” Carl declared. “She’s ready.”
“But she’s fat!” John protested, pushing his hair back out of his face.
“Yeah, but she’s cuter in the face than the other one,” Carl argued. “Besides, we’ve been over this before – how many times?”
It had been at least a half-dozen over the past week, and Kevin wasn’t going to stick his oar in, because he agreed with Carl. As Carl had originally presented it, the description went, “What we’ve got here is something like an old pirate movie. There’s a nice, fat Spanish galleon and an escort cruiser there. If we tangle with the cruiser, she’ll fight – or run – or both – and we’ll have trouble on our hands. Somebody will get hurt, or worse. The galleon is a different story. She can’t fight and she can’t run. All she can do is heave to, let us have what we want, and hope we keep her for a prize and not scuttle her. If we do things right, we can take her without firing a shot.” That more or less summed up the tactical plan. Strategy might be a bit different.
“Yeah, fine,” John grunted. He understood the argument, he just objected to the target.
“You’re not gonna marry her, John; she’s a piece of ass!” Kevin grunted.
“Does there have to be so much of it?”
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!” Carl retorted. “Plenty of fat chicks around here get dick!”
“She doesn’t!”
“Well, plenty don’t, but it COULD be opportunity.”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s go find out.”
“They haven’t split up yet,” Kevin noted. “Maybe they won’t, tonight.” The pair under surveillance had done things about fifty-fifty over the week the guys had been watching them, separating at the tall one’s door half the time, and going inside her basement apartment to spend the night together the other half. A little judicious spying through bedroom windows had revealed that both women enjoyed sex.
Carl shrugged. “If they don’t, we wait.”
“I’m sick of THAT shit!” Kevin growled.
He wasn’t alone. The trio were all eighteen and all suffering from blue balls. This plan was an outgrowth of some serious desperation. It wasn’t smart; each of them knew that they were playing with fire, but SOMETHING had to break, and this deal had possibilities.
A week before, the pair of them had literally stumbled into Carl, drunk as skunks, staggering home from a local club. He’d managed to keep the tall one upright, but the fat one had landed on her ass. He’d helped her up, discovering that she wasn’t TOTALLY graceless in the process, and they’d gone on their way, but then the fat one had muttered, “He’s kind of cute...”
The tall one had killed it with, “Shhh! He’s a kid! What are you gonna do with him?”
“He is?”
“Yeah!”
“Oh.”
Carl had been tempted to argue, but the women were both older than he was by some years, and he’d realized that arguing with the tall one would have just made her point for her, so he let them go. But the seed had been planted, and he trailed them at a distance to what turned out to be the tall one’s place: a basement apartment in a house a couple of blocks away. The high, narrow basement windows had provided some tantalizing glimpses of female flesh, and the sounds that drifted through the windows to accompany them had fired his imagination.
Then, afterward, while Carl was wiping the cum he’d sprayed on the wall of the darkened outside stairwell he’d been peeping in the windows from with a partially-used paper towel from a nearby dumpster, came this:
“I hate dildoes,” Rose, the fat one, muttered, while gazing into a mirror as she filled the cups of a sturdy bra with a pair of MASSIVE titties that still managed somehow to be somewhat pointed and not sag tremendously far.
Carl had a FINE view, as she was across the room, far enough from the high window to allow him to see her nearly naked body to below her equally huge ass. He’d already watched her pack THAT in a pair of no-nonsense ‘granny’ panties, catching a quick glimpse of her pussy as she bent over. She had fur; he hadn’t seen a lot of it, just enough to know it was there. Her coloration was what would later bring the ‘Spanish galleon’ descriptor to mind, as she had a distinct olive hue to her. She had a belly, too, but it was a little round thing, not really in keeping with the oversize attributes above and below, and her legs were actually pretty decent, considering what they were mounted on. She had a lot of black hair, flowing back from a widow’s peak on her wide forehead, over a face that wasn’t going to get her into any beauty pageants, but wasn’t EVEN ugly – a little heavy, but sweet-featured, with a nose that turned up a bit at the end.
“You LOVE dildoes!” Suzanne argued, stepping into view, naked.
Her body was a good bit narrower than her girlfriend’s, but only average, not skinny, and she was taller, with a small, but pointy, B-cup bust capped by small, pink nipples. She was also furry, as Carl discovered when she turned toward him to collect a nightgown and drag it over her head, and its color was the same as the hair on her head, a shade that was either ‘almost blonde’ or ‘almost brown,’ depending on how you wanted to describe it. It didn’t really represent either color well. The face was long and plain – and a little pruney, despite the fact that Carl figured her for under thirty, with washed-out blue eyes under droopy lids. Suzanne would have seemed thinner, but she had a little round belly, one that Carl felt that she shouldn’t really have, actually. It wasn’t huge, but it was there, looking a bit like an early pregnancy, except that it jiggled too much. She had a bit at the sides, too, toward the back, just above her hip bones. It gave her an odd shape. Her legs weren’t anything to write home about; they were just there, and virtually without any muscle definition. Rose’s were meatier, but they HAD muscle definition; in fact, they looked muscular.
Rose turned to Suzanne and challenged her argument. “Okay, I like to have something inside me. I DON’T like that it’s a rubber thing or a plastic thing! I want something ALIVE!”
“You want to get pregnant!”
“I want to be fucked!”
“I fucked you!” Suzanne waved a rubber cock with a collection of straps hanging from it.
“Yeah? How did the inside of my pussy feel to you, exactly?”
Suzanne’s shoulders drooped. “Okay, okay, but it’s all we’ve got.”
“Tongues and fingers are nice, but...” Rose shook her head.
“They’re STILL all we’ve got, aside from dildoes and vibrators!” Suzanne argued. “Someday, maybe, lightning will strike.”
“For you, maybe!” Rose snorted. “Even if it did for me, the guy is gonna be even bigger than I am and he’ll probably have a dick this long!” – she measured out three and a half inches or so between her thumb and forefinger – “and we won’t be ABLE to fuck! I might as well go down to the appliance store and propose marriage to a nice refrigerator.”
Carl had been barely able to avoid adding his own snort of laughter to Suzanne’s, but he managed, somehow.
Rose had left Suzanne’s soon after, and Carl had followed her home, his attention captured by what he’d seen and heard.
That had been the genesis of the current situation. John and Kevin had gotten the tale from Carl the next day, and they’d had plenty of opportunities for corroboration, having followed the women home individually and collectively for four nights over the past week. It seemed like the women went out virtually every night of the weekend and spent evenings together when they didn’t. Either way, something sexual occurred about half the time, whether clubbing and drinking had been a prelude or not. Evenings at Rose’s had provided more of a visual feast, as her first-floor apartment’s windows provided a better view of the proceedings, but they were more exposed, too, inviting detection by others as the trio spied on the women. Carl had solved that problem – and the limitations on viewing at Suzanne’s – by acquiring a webcam that they could place inconspicuously at the window, and then watch the show from a hidden location. The women had gone out that Friday and Saturday, stayed in on Sunday and Monday attending to things like manicures and pedicures, then gone out again on Tuesday, recovering on Wednesday. Then on Thursday, they’d been out to Ladies’ Night at a club. This was Friday, and they’d been again out trolling, and again come home together, empty-handed. Carl wondered if the fact that they were together was one of their problems. Tonight, Suzanne was staggering some, which led Carl to feel pretty confident regarding what was coming next.
“I’m wasted!” Suzanne announced, “I’m gonna crash!”
“Need help?” Rose asked.
“Naw, not if I can get in the door, anyway.” She fumbled with her keys and managed to get the main entrance to her building open. “You go on. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You’re gonna hurt for this!” Rose admonished. “Better take something!’
“Yeah, okay.” Suzanne waved it off and went inside. Rose sighed, shrugged, and turned to resume her trip to her own place.
“Let’s do the tall one!” John insisted, “She’s blitzed!”
“In her apartment?” Carl snorted. “Besides, who wants to fuck a dead thing?”
“She’s just drunk. It’ll be easier,” John insisted.
“We’re not set up for it,” Carl retorted. “We don’t have stuff prepared. Besides, it’s probably ALREADY too late to get into her place, even if we were dumb enough to want to do her there!”
“Carl’s right,” Kevin weighed in. “Let’s stick with the plan.”
“All right,” John groused. He really, REALLY didn’t want to fuck a fat chick. John bore a distinct resemblance to Rose’s description of what she figured her eventual mate would look like; he was heavy and only a little better hung than Rose had described. He wanted to get it on with something thin in the worst way.
“If we handle this right, SHE will come to US!” Carl insisted. “But this isn’t the way!”
“Fine!” John spat.
Carl turned to Kevin. “Okay, you know what to do. We’ll go set up the trap.”
Waving at John, he led off, running as quickly and quietly as he could manage while not outrunning John, who was no more of a runner than Carl expected Rose to be. They were going to circle around in front of their prey and set up the ambush in an alley on the next block. Kevin pulled up the hood of his hoodie and stepped out; he would act as the beater, pursuing and distracting Rose while driving her into the ambush.
Kevin closed on Rose, his movements deliberately purposeful, his face hidden from the street lights in the depths of the hood he wore. He was moving rapidly, closing on her – and not being soundless about it – when Rose crossed the street ahead of him.
Rose looked behind her, detecting the hurried steps. There was a man back there, and he was coming up fast. Was he black? The shadows made everything indistinct, but she thought so. It was merely an impression though, brought on by his build and clothing more than anything else. Rose knew instant fear. She was two blocks from her place, and the next block had several vacant houses in it. She sped up, glancing over her shoulder. He was still gaining, but slowly. As long as he didn’t break into a run, she might get clear. She swept her eyes across her surroundings, and of course, there was no one in sight. ‘Please, God, don’t let me be raped!’ Kevin deliberately slowed a bit, matching her pace. His wasn’t the job of capturing her. The trio had gone over the plan meticulously, and they wanted no chance that she might see Kevin’s face. He was doing his job, driving her and keeping her attention until the critical moment.
Rose never saw Carl and John. She was watching Kevin reach into his pocket, dreading the idea that it might be for a knife or a gun, when Carl dropped the bag over her head and John grabbed her arms. She struggled and tried to scream, but Carl had a hand over her mouth and one in her hair at the back of her head, and was pinching her nose off. John grabbed both of her wrists, and dragged her, stumbling backward, into the alley.
Kevin came in at that point, producing a wide strap with a buckle and some Velcro on it and a pair of ankle socks that had been folded with one inside the other. He looped the strap over Rose’s head and slid the socks under the hand Carl had covering her mouth before tightening it around her head such that it held the socks in place in her open mouth, allowing Carl to remove his hands in the process, leaving Rose gagged. Carl then surfaced a similar strap, which he threaded around Rose’s wrists as John pushed them together behind her. Then they all stepped back, releasing her.
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