This tale of sea-farin' man-love was first featured at Ruthie's Club during their Pirate Festival, 4/10/06. If you enjoy MM, check out my futuristic, The Andumi Effect or the Secret Thoughts: Erotique anthology compiled by Sasha White. It features a mix of MF, menage, and hot nekkid man-love, including my tale "The Waiting Game."

Jack La Fleur is a manly pirate, as tough and nasty as they come. But even pirates get old. When Jack kidnaps Daniel and forces him to plan his retirement, the young bank clerk finds out that some of the manliest pirates prefer the cock to the quim.


I have a fondness for numbers. Unfortunately, I also have a fondness for drink, and as much as I'd like to blame the latter for my current misfortune, it was my ability to do figures that landed me face-down on a bed somewhere in the belly of The Sea Queen.

The infamous Captain Jack la Fleur stood over me and eyed my bare bottom. I would've pulled up my torn trousers, but the ropes binding me from head to toe made it damned near impossible to move. I turned my head to glare at his knees—a show of fear would only hasten my demise. He was too preoccupied with my pale, skinny hind parts to notice the anger on my face.

Finally, the pirate spoke. "Sorry about my crew, lad. They can be a bit rough..."

"A bit rough?" I laughed. "The whole bloody lot of 'em tried to ... to rape me!"

He ran a calloused fingertip across a scrape on my bottom. Squirming away was pointless. "I've some salve," he said quietly.

"I don't want any salve! I want you to untie me and let me go." He ignored my plea and caressed another scratch.

"About your pants ... I've got plenty of brooches."

"Brooches?" I asked. "Or did you mean breeches?"

He didn't answer and walked to a large chest on the other side of the room. "Would you prefer rubies or emeralds?"

"I couldn't care less. Just repair my pants."

He searched through his things and returned with a gaudy bauble covered in sapphires. Three strings of tiny pearls dangled from the stones above. "Matches your eyes," he said.

Matches my eyes? "What the hell kind of pirate are you?"

He sank down beside me, his bones creaking louder than the bed. "I'm an old pirate, lad. And I'm ready to retire."

Well, that was good news, even if he didn't look older than two score and five.

"So my kidnapping is a temporary thing?"

"Yes," he said. "The faster you plan my retirement, the faster you return home. With a bag full of coin."

"Me? Plan your retirement?"

He put his face down to mine and let loose a growl. "Are you deaf, boy?"

"No. Just curious." I smiled. "I thought old pirates sailed off into the sunset, never to be heard from again."

He smiled back. My eyes went wide at the sight of his teeth—or lack thereof. His smile weakened into a sheepish closed-mouth grin. "Scurvy," he mumbled. "From when I was a young sailor."

"Ah." I brought us back to the subject concerning me. "About your retirement...?"

"I hear you're good with money. Counting, and the like. At least that's what my men heard at the tavern where they ... ah ... found you."

"Any fool can count." A draft entered the room and chilled my bum. "Are you going to use that brooch on me or not?"

Captain Jack burst into laughter and slapped the pillow beside my head. "I like you. Not afraid to speak your mind, are you?"

"Not when gin runs in my veins."

He laughed again before moving further down the bed. "I've a feeling you'd be blunt, wet or dry."

Jack leaned close. His long, dark locks tickled my bum while he drew the ends of my ripped waistband together above my buttocks. The ruffled edges of his shirt fluttered over me as he worked, and I wriggled like a fish caught in a net. After pinning the atrocious piece of jewellery in place, he spread the hanging pearls across my bottom. The cool strands spilled into my crack. He fetched one strand out, then slowly spread my arse cheeks wide to retrieve the other two. The pirate exhaled, and I felt myself pulse where he watched.

My heart thundered. "The pearls are out," I said. "You can let go now."

He took his time releasing his hold on me, then gave my thigh a gentle pat. "There now. All fixed." All fixed, save the gaping hole in a most vulnerable seam.

"If you untie me, I'd like to get to counting. Have you paper and a quill?"

"I do." He pointed to a small corner desk where the supplies in question waited for my attention. "But I don't have everything that needs counting." Jack settled back into the pillows. I felt a yarn coming on, so I relaxed against my bonds and held my tongue.

"When I was a boy, I served aboard a vessel owned by Orangebeard himself. He needed a lad, you see, who'd fit inside a certain cave along the coast of Ibiza to stash the bulk of his riches. He took me to this hiding place, where I performed the task, but the old pirate grew ill not long after. Orangebeard had been quite the tattoo artist in his younger days, back in London before his own kidnapping, and, as the fever ravaged his mind, he tattooed a map to his treasure on my arse."

"What idiot tattoos a boy's bottom?" This I had to see. And I probably would see, given the course of our conversation.

He frowned as if I'd insulted him. "He was like a father to me. T'was my inheritance."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Can I continue?" he asked. I nodded. "And can I trust you not to escape?"

I nodded again. "Can't bloody swim."

He cut off my ropes. After helping me to my feet, he unfastened his pants, yanked off his boots, and sat down on a spindly wooden chair.

"Fetch the lantern, and come closer ... What's your name?"

"Daniel Grady."

"Come closer, Daniel, and get on your knees." I didn't like the sound of that, and he could tell. He grinned. "I won't force you to do anything you don't want to do."

Jack slipped off his trousers, brought an arm 'round the backs of his knees, and lifted his legs to his chest. I knelt, and a fuzzy outline of an island came into view. His free hand travelled along his crack.

"Can you see it?" he asked. How could I not? All of him lay in front of me, open for a view—and a sniff.

I hesitated. "Shouldn't a member of your crew be doing this?"

"Those thievin' bastards? Can't trust a one of 'em. Now hurry up and sketch the map. An old man like me won't last long in this position."

After collecting quill, ink, and foolscap, I returned to kneeling. I could smell his balls and the faint smell of arse. Not a bad smell. The scent of it intrigued me, so I bent lower. My shallow breaths set his short, curly hairs in motion, and I pictured the grasses on the island's coastline waving in the ocean breeze.

"I take it your, um, hole is the cave."

"Aye." He chuckled. "Want to check it for treasure?"

His tawny crinkle widened under my scrutiny. The balls above drew up higher and higher—and I could only imagine what was happening to the front part of him. The fact I was even thinking about the front of him stunned me to the core.

"I don't think I'd like anything found inside there."

"You might be surprised," he whispered. "It's a tight spot. Warm, too." When I didn't respond, he continued. "The arse of a man will wrap your cock snug. Squeeze it almost to the point of pain 'til you flood his cave with your spunk."

I cringed at his words. It'd been a while since I'd tumbled a whore, and my cock stretched at the thought of fucking anything tight and warm. Christ...

The blank paper reminded me I had a job to do—and my freedom to earn. He remained still for the next half an hour while I carefully sketched the contours of the map. Then his legs began to shake.

"Are you about done?" he asked.

I was, but before I told him so, I trailed the white quill over his balls and in between his crack. His feet hit the floor. His cock hit my nose.

"You starting something, lad? Because I've been hard as a mast since I first laid you down on my bed."

I stood and placed the drawing on his desk. Fear of the unknown weighted down my stomach. "Sorry, it was a boyish prank. I'm definitely not starting anything. I ... I just couldn't resist."

He must have seen a trace of interest in my wide eyes. "Watch your step, Daniel Grady. Resisting is something I don't do well, either." He stepped closer, and his prick brushed over my own stiff mast. When his fingers found my erection, he added, "If I catch you hard again on my ship, I'll be on you like worms on hardtack."

Then he kissed my cheek. "And you'll be liking it something fierce." And my jaw. "Perhaps so much you'll never seek the comforts of a lass again."

I gulped. When I was sure my voice wouldn't waver, I asked where I'd be sleeping tonight. Like most men, I woke up with a cock keen for the pumping, and, come morning, I didn't want to be anywhere near him. Or his hole.

"My bed, perhaps?"

I rolled my eyes. He sighed with regret and a pointed to a heap of soiled quilts in the corner.

After tunnelling deep into my makeshift bed, I fumbled with the brooch clasp and shoved my pants past my knees. When his snores deepened, I tugged on my aching cock beneath the covers. My seed was ready to add another stain to the quilt, but I slowed my strokes and licked a finger. I explored my own cave, wondering if his felt this tight, this warm. Then I emptied my prick onto calico and prayed I wouldn't be too hard come morning.

God apparently ignores the wishes of the depraved.

Long, soft curls tickled my thighs and stomach. The dream-woman suckling my balls did a damned fine job of it, and I nearly came from that alone. I reached down to clutch her hair and direct her to my cock-head. But the dream died there, with a fistful of pirate wig and a man at my crotch.

"Get off me," I said. "Now."

His mouth released my left testicle. "I gave you fair warning." He gave my prick a tap. "Are you not hard?"

"Do you expect me to return the favour?" I asked.

He scratched his bald head while he thought of an answer. "I believe it'd be the mannerly thing to do."

"Since when are pirates known for their manners?"

"I'm not your average pirate, lad."

I snorted. "Well said."

He started to back away, but I hooked my leg around him and pulled him back. I liked how badly he wanted me. Me, a bookish young man half his size. The power made me heady, made me want to make him grovel.

"How badly do you want to suck my cock?"

He looked down at my erection and ran a finger from base to tip. "You've got a fine rod, Daniel. Eager. Firm."

I nudged him with my leg. He lost his balance and fell nose-first into my thigh. "How badly, Captain Jack?"

He raised his head and licked his lips. "More than all the gold ever stolen."

"Do you want me enough to go to hell?" I asked. Not that I was particularly religious, but I did believe in hell, and could recall quite clearly what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah.

He suddenly looked his age. "I've been there and back several times in my life. And I'm of the mind that enjoying the flesh of a man isn't grounds for refusal at the gates of heaven."

I scooted away from his warmth. "I'm not so sure about that."

We spent the remainder of the day avoiding eye contact and preparing for our departure. He'd ordered the ship back to the harbour where I posted a few inquiries about estates in peril. The Captain needed property, and I needed to get off this vessel before I got to know him any better.

By the time we reached the Mediterranean, I'd tallied up all the riches on his ship and calculated the worth of any foreign coins into British currency. I warned him not to deposit his booty all at once. A little here, a little there, to keep suspicion at bay. Jack was a patient man, and I had no doubt he'd follow my instructions.

But he wasn't very patient with me. Every bump against my body in the narrow hallways of the ship, every clandestine glance—like money, these things added up. Interest grew. Mine. I feared I'd be his before this adventure came to a close, and part of me hoped I would.

Night fell. After the crew rowed ashore for some fun, we lowered a small wooden boat to the water and climbed down a rope ladder. I studied the map—the one on paper. When we reached the cove, Jack removed his clothes. I watched. My cock stirred as he flexed his thick thighs and tight, ink-marked bum, then slipped into the water, lantern in hand. I turned away and stripped, willing my stiffness to soften. It had a mind of its own, so I dropped into the shallow water and hoped it'd be cold enough to shrink my erection. The sea was warm, and the soft, silty mud under my feet felt strangely erotic.

"Hurry, Danny. We haven't got all night."

I followed his cartographic arse to the spot we sought. It was a small opening, and I knew I'd end up scraped and bloody before the deed was done. He gave me the lantern, and I wedged myself into the cavern.

"See 'em yet?" he asked.

I did. Three small chests, heavy as hell, and weathered with time and the elements. I handed each one through the cave's opening, then squeezed back through to the outside.

We rowed naked to dry off until he complained of a cramp in his arm. The boat slowed. I reached for my shirt when he stood ... and knocked me overboard with a slap of his oar on my backside.

I sputtered and bobbed like an angry cat in a washtub. "Bloody bastard!" I yelled, while struggling to stay afloat and take in air. Had he planned it all along, using me to retrieve his gold with the intent of drowning me afterward? Between splashes, I heard him say it was for my own good. Then—finally—he dived in beside me and grabbed me 'round the waist.

"You got to learn to swim sometime, Danny."

I panted in relief. "You weren't trying to kill me then?"

His grip on me relaxed, and I panicked. He caught me again. "No. Simply trying to teach you what every pirate knows."

He took his time with me. Showed me how to float, how to blow air out my nose and use my body to move through the water. The twinkle in his eyes rivalled that of the stars above, and my thoughts wandered to what it would feel like to swim along his body.

Only a few more days, Daniel. A few more days, and I'd be free. Free to enjoy a tavern whore or two and reaffirm my manhood. I chewed the inside of my cheeks raw in an attempt to restrain myself. To keep from putting my hands on him like I wanted. He must have seen my struggle, but, gentleman pirate that he was, he held back.

He helped me into the boat, and we dressed in silence. When we arrived at The Sea Queen, it was nearly dawn. Jack dumped the contents of each chest over his bed. I'd never seen such riches. Then he shed his clothes for a second time. I turned to leave.

"Come on," he said. "You'll never see the likes of this again in your lifetime." He fell facedown into the loot and pretended to swim.

Seemed innocent enough, I told myself. I threw off my clothes and joined him on the bed. When he rose up to sprinkle doubloons over my chest, the raging erection pointing my way was anything but innocent.

I should've jumped off the bed at the sight of his randy purple cock. Jack literally glowed in the reflection of the loot, and an aura of something powerful surrounded his body. I wanted to touch him. To rub my hands over his large, muscular frame and warm myself against his tan skin. He covered his prick in chokers of gold and precious stones.

"The family jewels?" I asked with a grin.

He didn't answer and stretched out beside me, his head facing my own jewels. After finding a long necklace of pearls, he wound its length around the base of my cock, then up, up, until he'd hidden my shaft in white. I rolled to face his prick and weighted it down with gold coins. One twitch, and my efforts clanked back onto the bed. He pulled me closer.

His tongue explored the wet slit at the tip of me. My lungs forgot how to breathe, and sweat coated the metal beneath me. Then I relaxed into the languid, almost loving, strokes of his moist tongue and groaned when he choked my beaded cock. The little spheres rolled up and down along my length with every thrust of his strong hand. He added some spit to ease the friction and edged his groin nearer to my lips.

I took him inside my mouth. We lay there fastened to each other while time stood still. At some point, he unwound the pearls and slaked the whole of me against the fleshy insides of his mouth. He even palmed my furry balls. I tried to mirror every action he did to me, and then did some moves of my own. When I wanted a taste of teeth—well, gums—I gave him a nip. When I wanted his finger up my arse, I found his pucker. He played the game well.

But all games must come to an end. He shot salty spunk deep inside my throat. I pumped harder into his mouth. Then he pulled me face-to-face, covered me with his body, and joined me in sleep.

"Ready to see your new estate?" I asked. I'd received the letter this morning after going ashore to open Jack's accounts. "Lord Chadwick needed to repay some gambling debts. You've acquired a lovely piece of property in the Scottish lowlands with a forest full of game, fertile land, and castle ruins, to boot." I scanned the letter for more details. "He's also willing to part with a title, should you be so inclined."

I looked up to see his reaction. He sat on his bed and gazed out at the sea. "Me, a landlubber? After all these years."

"You'll be near the coast." He didn't respond. "Isn't this what you wanted?" I asked.

"Aye. I'll get accustomed to it in time." He turned to me with a reluctant smile. "You know, every wealthy man needs a steward he can trust. A man good with figures and keeping the books."

"I happen to know a rather capable young man who may do quite nicely."

"So do I," he whispered, lowering me to his bed. "But there'll be other duties I'll require of him. Think he can handle that?"

I slid my hand into his breeches and around his prick. "The man I have in mind can handle just about anything."

"I was hoping you'd say that, Danny. It's the one thing you haven't done." True. We'd sucked each other senseless on the journey home, and I'd let him bugger me. But I'd refused his kind offers to return the favour. I worried about how tight it'd be—and how messy.

Jack removed his trousers and unfastened mine. Then he took me in his mouth. Pleasure welled up inside me like a wave 'til I thought I would burst. He stopped and went to his desk. After rummaging through a drawer, he returned with a small-lidded jar of his salve.

He coated my prick with the slick concoction. When he'd finished, he crawled to the other side of the bed and offered up his treasure map. My first impulse was to plunder it like a savage pirate, but I didn't want to hurt him.

"Tell me if I'm doing this right."

He laughed. "There is no wrong way, if you take it slow."

So I took him. Slowly. He met my thrusts as I crashed into him, my hairy balls slapping against his like cushioned weights. The walls of his arse twitched and sucked me in harder and harder, wringing my shaft 'til sweat flashed through my pores and left me awash in a sea of lust.

I moaned his name and prayed his crew couldn't hear. Then I rammed him good and solid one last time, and filled him with a stream of my hot, sticky seed.

He rolled over and pulled me into his arms. "Not bad. Not bad at all." His toothless grin turned my bones to seawater. "Tell the lad he's hired."

"I will..." I kissed his lips, and his chest, then lower and lower until my tongue darted over the ridge of his cock-head. "... after I take care of this."