Pirate’s Tail

He held my hips in his hands as I lay my chest on his bedspread, extended my arms, fisted the material of the bed linens and luxuriated in a man who was more of a man than Fons Hertzog was. He slowly became rougher, more cruel as the pace of the pump increased. He was a hard-worked man, virile, powerful. He stroked me hard and fast. He didn’t handle me like a porcelain doll, but roughly, pounding me with force, like I was a seasoned whore and could take all that a virile man could provide. And I could take him. I cried out repeatedly, passionately, with deep pleasure, until we both gave a cry, ejaculated, and he fell on top of me on the bed, not leaving me, letting me luxuriate in the feel of him going flaccid inside me.

If I had a cabin assigned to me on the Natal, I never saw it. I slept in Captain VonKussen’s bed—under Captain VonKnussen.

For five nights, as the wind took us up the western coast of Africa, I rode VonKnussen’s cock in his cabin after twilight and before he went on duty for the night sail, and then I went to the radio room, did all of the messaging he had given me, and, as the last act for the evening, radioed the Natal’s position to the Devi. With luck, I reasoned, the Devi was already far north of us considering how leisurely and careful our progress was.