“Kiss me,” Jennifer said.
“No,” Jack said, walking away.
What the hell? Jennifer thought, stiffening against the crisscrossed ropes binding her to the mast of the sailboat.
They had played pirate a lot during this trip. Ridiculous things mostly. Fake sword fighting, saying “arrrggghhh” at every opportunity, but this was serious—tied up, she was Jack’s captive, the loser in a knot-tying contest.
It’s silly, letting him do such a stupid thing to me at my age! she thought, but the feel of the rough rope on her oiled skin, and the sight of the eager erection poking from Jack’s swimsuit sent shivers of delighted lust through her. Her nipples, under a very sensible, one-piece swimsuit, rose into tight buds of excitement.
Jack had never tied her up before.
She was into it until he left her alone. Panic replaced pleasure as she struggled against the nylon ropes. She prayed he would be back fast so she could let him have it for being such an ass. “Oh, God,” she moaned, and panic set in, causing her heart to race, anxiety tightening her throat.
“I like it when you call me God,” she imagined Jack saying in that arrogant tone of his.
Calm down. Breathe. Don’t let him do this to you. She closed her eyes, imagining Jack returning to her, and snuggling the swelled pout of her cunt into his palm.
He’d have a knife in his teeth and desire in his eyes.
Her skin burned. Sunlight and desire danced over her tingling skin. She flexed her fingers, and the fantasy dissolved. Her arms were going to sleep. Great.
Where is he? What if he didn’t come back? What if he had slipped, fallen, whacked his head, and now lay dying in a pool of blood on the teak deck? She’d fry out here in the blazing sun.
You’re ridiculous, she thought. He would be back, and he would untie her. Maybe they’d play a nice game of chess under the sunshade and have lunch before heading in.
Jennifer licked a beaded droplet of sweat from her upper lip, letting her mind wander again.
They never played games like this at home. Jack always said their marriage was practical, like them—sensible and no-nonsense. Early in their relationship, Jennifer had talked about running for public office but had ended up a mom and a wife instead, happily for the most part. Jack had climbed the ladder at his law firm and now sat perched on the comfortable rung of a senior partnership.
They loved one another in a cozy, quiet way, like most married people who have been together forever, who have kids and other priorities. Sex had always been decent, if not earth-shattering.
Jennifer pushed those thoughts away and imagined her husband again with a knife clenched in his teeth. In her daydream, his conservative hair was longer, minus the spreading bald spot in the back. He was naked. She gave him a better body while she was at it, gently muscled with one of those six-pack stomachs. Jack was in good shape for his age, but it was her fantasy, so why not live it up?
She looked from the wicked curve of the knife in his mouth to his penis. The engorged purple tip of it rubbed her belly when he pressed himself to her, its wet little eye winking. No Viagra needed in this daydream.
“Hold still.” He lowered the blade, skimming it over her bathing suit.
She held her breath.
Jack slid the sharp knife under the elastic at her thigh, cutting the fabric, shimmying the back of the blade over her stomach, between her breasts, and out the neckline. The swimsuit shrank back, showing a belly marked with the webbed spider-fingers left behind from her pregnancies, small breasts, and a slightly thick middle. It was a body she was content with, though sometimes she wondered if Jack was. He never mentioned it, and she never asked.
He tugged the hair between her legs. The tip of the knife just barely pierced her neck, hardly registering over the thrill of his fingers splitting her puffy folds, finding the eager nubbin of her clit. He flicked it up and down, like a tongue lapping, doing it the way she liked best, though he didn’t know it; they never talked about things like that either.
She arched, pressing herself into his hand. “Don’t stop!”
“You like that, don’t you?” He licked her neck and slipped the knife under the ropes holding her.
She didn’t want him to cut her loose, not yet.
“I could leave you tied here,” he said. “After all, I did win. Per pirate law, the winner takes the spoils.” He snaked two long fingers into her, pushing them deep, fucking them in and out.
God, she was so fucking hot. Sweat dampened the creases behind her knees. Her muscles convulsed around his fingers. She was going to come, her cunt dancing in time to the titillating scene she imagined.
Her daydream faded when she heard the whine of a boat engine. She scanned the horizon, and she saw the sea-skimming vessel heading for them fast. She was trapped, exposed, and vulnerable. “Jack!” she screamed.
He didn’t come, but the boat did, closer and closer, one of those sleek powerboats. What if it’s one of the modern-day pirate boats they had been warned about when they’d rented their charter sailboat? Jack had laughed at her nervousness; no pirate would dare board Jack the Big Shot Attorney’s boat.
She squinted and saw two people standing in the cockpit of the approaching boat. Shame and fear spiraled through her at the thought of anyone seeing her like this. She’d laugh at herself, if she wasn’t so scared—here she was about to be raped, robbed, perhaps even murdered, while her husband lay dead somewhere, and all she worried about was what people would think of her.
For all she knew, they could be friendly pirates—sexy like in movies and romance novels—expecting to be met with resistance, and happy to let her live after they robbed her. Maybe they would even untie her before they left. But, then again, maybe they wouldn’t. Perhaps they’d do things to her while she was captive and helpless.
Alarm and a jolt of adrenaline jangled her nerves as her thoughts slid in that direction. Jack had been her only lover. She thought he would be surprised at how wet she was, imagining pirates who looked like Johnny Depp having their way with her.
“Make ‘er walk the plank!” the Deppish one sporting a faded blue bandana and a giant bulge in his pants said.
“No, let’s cut her down and fuck her,” the other one said, pinching her nipples so hard it stung.
Her stomach caved in as she sucked in a breath, looking into the nipple pincher’s eyes—dark brown and slanted. She imagined the pirate sliding his cock into her mouth and wondered if he tasted like the ocean. She licked her lips. She was so thirsty.
“We can fuck ‘er just fine, right here.” The one with the bandana reconsidered and pushed the other pirate aside. He lifted his knee, parting her thighs and freeing himself from his snug pants, wiggling his huge cock all over her belly. He dragged the swollen head from the top of her slit to the bottom, over and over, every little kiss of him a tease. Then he slid into her.
The nipple pincher with the sexy, slanted eyes came up behind her and put one hand over her mouth, the other over her rear. He wedged himself into her crack, and Jennifer wondered if he was going to fuck her ass.
Her knees buckled, and the cock working her slit from the front pushed deeper, penetrating her. She was tight, clenched. The pirate worked his way into her until her body finally accepted all of him. His dick was as crooked as his heart and rubbed in all the right places.
The pirate behind her tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her while his partner moved with firm, grinding thrusts.
“No, no, no!” She struggled because she felt as if she probably should, but her pussy welcomed the cock with a greedy cling and a rush of wetness. She buried her nose in long, dark hair, breathing in the smell of pirate—sun, sweat, man, and danger. “Yes, yes, yes!”
He took her, filling her completely while the other one jerked off behind her. His fist jiggled her ass with each yank of his cock. His breath was hot in her ear, but his voice was far away, too far away.
“Hey, lady, are you ok?”
“What?” She opened her eyes and looked around, blinking, her vagina pulsing, on the verge orgasm. Cut off just as it was about to slam into her. Damn it. She saw the “pirate” boat had pulled up, a paunchy tourist behind the wheel, his trophy wife clinging to his arm, not a sexy pirate in sight.
“Oh yes,” she said, clearing her throat, then smiling brightly. “I’m good, just practicing knots.” Jesus, could it get any worse?
Paunchy looked like he wanted to argue, but Clingy Trophy Wife tugged his arm, and he saluted, spinning his boat around, heading toward green and red harbor lights twinkling in the distance, marking the island’s jetty entrance. Boats bobbed up and down at moorings in the clear, aqua water.
“Jack!” Jennifer yelled again. She closed her eyes, trying to calm down, picturing the moment when Jack would free her from the ropes, thinking of how she would cling to him, nuzzling his ear, whispering, “Untie me. Please.”
She would slide her hands down his back, making him groan. He would crouch down, cutting the ropes around her ankles, pushing her damp bathing suit crotch to the side, his tongue slipping between the swollen lips of her puss, fluttering. He had not done that in years.
He’d lap at her, tempting her to let him suck until she exploded. She was so close.
She thought of the way the fantasy pirate had pulled her hair and gave Jack’s a good yank, stopping him. He looked startled, his lips glistening with her juices. She shoved him back, grabbing the knife he’d carelessly dropped to the deck, putting a knee to his chest and the blade to his throat.
“What the fuck?” he groaned.
“You don’t like it when I’m in charge, do you?” She didn’t care if he did or didn’t; she liked it a lot. She reached back, grabbed his cock, and impaled herself with one firm thrust, digging her heels into his ribs.
He grabbed for the knife. “Jesus Christ, be careful with that thing!”
She jerked his hands away, nicking his neck with the tip of the blade the way he’d cut her. “Like this?”
“Yes.” She fucked him hard and rough, just the way she wanted it. She reached down between her legs, rubbing her cunt in fast circles with no thought of anything but her own pleasure. She was almost there. Almost there.
She knew he must be shocked; he’d never seen her like this. She didn’t care.
He seemed to like it, or at least his penis did—it jerked inside of her, oblivious to Jack’s pissiness at the turn of events.
He moaned, lifting his hips off the deck. She rocked forward, letting the knife go. It zipped past his ear as she kissed him, growling into his mouth. The ring of muscle at the entrance to her tight hole gripped him, clenching.
His balls lifted, tickling her ass when she ground down on him. Her orgasm burst, suddenly slamming into her, sucking him in deep, milking him, making him spurt in quivering surges deep inside of her. Her body pulled him in and spit him out as if it could not decide what it wanted.
“Ohh…fuccck,” she moaned, coming, and coming.
“Are you still reading that stupid book?” Jack was back, carrying the chessboard.
Jennifer opened her eyes as he settled into the cockpit, smoothly steering them past the jetty and moored boats, back out to sea. Her heart pounded until the spasms in her pussy faded away.
She unclenched her quivering thighs, adjusted her bathing suit bottom, and slid her hand out from under the book on her lap, A Pirate of Her Own. She was flushed with pleasure and ready for a nap, but Jack didn’t notice.
She smiled. “I’m done reading. Let’s play a game before lunch.”

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