Chapter 7

There was a red sky at morning dead ahead and I hoped the crew was not superstitious enough to be convinced we were sailing into rough weather. Our ship was more than seaworthy for even the roughest storm but such stress on our sails would be certain to slow us down in the aftermath.

I hastened down below decks and mounted the still sleepy Donna Emmanuel with some degree of enthusiasm as if my squirted spunk would chase away the dangerous currents that might be lying in wait for us just over the horizon. She moaned at the sudden stretching and woke up pretty Isabella who viewed us with a look of envy in her eye that made me wish I had two cocks to take care of them both at the same time. Well, the young miss would just have to wait her turn because I was already on the downhill road to the finish line with Donna Emmanuel and knew that I would soon be draining my load deep inside her royal cave in a matter of seconds not minutes.

The sound of her orgasm was delightful to my ears and I felt her velvet glove around my shaft quiver with the passion of feminine arousal spraying my legs with her musk of sheer satisfaction. I could see Isabella writhing on her hand like some bare-skinned native girl using a banana to bring her twat to paradise. In a way it was amusing but I knew the young girl was serious in every respect and that she would gladly have traded places with Donna Emmanuel. The pair of them had been more than generous the night before with the crew and I understood they deserved some rest before their next bout of servicing the crew with feminine favors. Fortunately, we were short-handed and that gave them respite to attend to other matters. I made certain the grog was in abundance in order to put some of them in their cups and less likely to seek a repeat performance.

The sound of the warning bell rang out true and clear and I quickly donned my uniform and returned to the bridge to investigate the cause for the alarm. I full expected to see a storm rolling in on us after the morning's display of early daylight color but it was the fact we were being pursued by a pair of heavy rigged warships that made the mate as nervous as a virgin bride on the wedding night. I looked them over carefully with the aid of a fine Swiss telescope but all I really needed to see was the British flags flying on the stern and the double row of cannon slits to confirm what I already knew. These ships were most likely looking for me in particular and would not rest until I and my entire crew were tucked away in Davey Jones's locker.

When I saw the thick fog and the rough seas off the port bow, I headed in that direction posthaste to escape from our pursuers as quickly as possible. I told the women to go back below decks because in all honesty, it was a risky proposition to sail full speed ahead into a fog bank not knowing of the presence of obstacles hidden in the mist. Still, it was a less of a risk than facing the heavy cannons of the British fleet which were hot on our heels and looking to hoist us all on the nearest yardarm.

We managed to scoot into the fogbank just as the lead warship wheeled to port and gave us a hasty broadside that fell far short astern to the jeers of most of the crew. It was an eyrie world inside the fogbank and I could tell the crew was much afraid of staying in there too long. When we steered to daylight on the other side there was no sign of the two ships seeking to stretch our necks and we hoisted full sail to make shelter in more welcoming waters.

Early the next morning we came in sight of one of our pirate brother's sanctuaries protected by a number of land-based canons on high bluffs. No warship would venture too close to shore without running the risk of being holed by one of those nasty pieces. We were already in the harbor before I spied the presence of a large Spanish Man of War that must have sailed in under a flag of truce for a parlay of some importance.

At the end of the long dock, we saw the raised platform for the dignitaries and the dandies and ladies of the Spanish persuasion were strutting about displaying their jewels to the booty hungry buccaneers eager to cut a throat. Of course under a flag of truce they were spared any such indignity and peace reigned supreme for the duration of the visit. I cautioned Donna Emmanuel and Isabella to stay below deck because I knew they would be "persona non grata" with the Spanish authorities for reasons too complicated to relate. I took two of my officers and we approached the scene with some degree of shyness because one never knows when some personage would take exception to strange pirates at their private party.

I recognized some of the captains and they seemed ready enough to accept us as members of the brotherhood without question. Seated on a soft padded chair was a mature female dressed in elegant finery and impressive jewels watching the entire tableau with a hint of amusement in her dancing eyes. I assumed that the haughty bitch was a member of high rank on the Spanish ship and that she was without spouse or keeper because her roving eyes were obvious in their heated pursuit of filled codpieces and lads with sweating muscles. One of the bar-maids told me,

"That is the sister of Governor Barcelona. She is a right cunning witch and that's a fact."

A closer look confirmed my original assessment that she was fair to shaking with a need to copulate and the sight of all the randy pirates had stirred her so deeply that she was probably brimming with her own juices at the very moment. I decided to propose a joining to our mutual benefit at the earliest opportunity. We sold our cargo to a Jamaican merchant eager to load our ill gained booty without delay. When I saw the Governor's sister descent the platform to mingle with the crowd, I pressed close behind and allowed my devious hand to brush up tight on her tempting flanks with innocent proximity. She glanced at me and I saw a spark of lust that ignited my shaft into immediate rising. I felt certain she was aware of my enthusiastic response and signaled me with her finger to follow her into the rock grotto that held wall etchings of the original natives to the island paradise. She pretended to study the writings on the rock wall and I took obscene liberties with her posterior without verbal expression or request of permission. The fact that she allowed me to raise her long dress and fondle her heart-shaped globes in a depraved and masterly manner showed me that she was ripe for the taking and I slipped my long shaft into her hairy slit with some degree of authority and total disregard for her sensitivities on the matter. We rode a fast steed to the finish line completing our dirty business before anyone came upon us and saw our naked union. My white seeds of lust were sprinkled across her backside like sugar on a sweet cake waiting to be devoured. I had no inclination to hesitate and licked her luscious cheeks to rid us of the evidence. I even entered into her deep dark crack and tasted the essence of her very core making her shudder with the tingle of excitement and promise of more to come.