Friday Five: Why Pirates Rock

Hubby told me this morning that Pirate Master got cancelled. I don't watch much TV but this was one guilty pleasure I indulged in without fail each Thursday night and I'll certainly miss it. So in mourning of its cancellation, today's Friday Five is all about why I like pirates and would wanna be one...if ships had AC, showers, electricity, etc.



1. Pirates have the best bling. Ah, to run my hands through a chest filled with jewelry! Pearls! Rubies, emeralds, and doubloons!!!

2. The ships were full of hard-working, sweaty men. Okay, they probably stunk to high heavens and had nasty teeth and scurvy, but oh to be on board with a rough lot of horny men. *sigh*


3. Then again a ship full of horny men probably took care of each other's needs. Ah, to be a fly on the wall during a wild buccaneer orgy. If gay pirates float your boat (pun intended), check out my free MM pirate tale.

4. Not to be confused with pirate bling is, well, a pirate's booty. This guy looks like he's got a nice one, and I'm not sure if he's a pirate but who cares with that body? Just turn around, honey. Show Miss Laura the booty. Oh hell, go ahead and uncover the "jewels" before you do. It all looks good ;)


5. Last but not least, pirates are good campy fun. You've got puns and stereotypes galore to play with. Here's a 300-word flash of mine that appeared at Ruthie's Club during their Pirate Festival issue. Enjoy, matey!

Twenty Lashes

"Twenty lashes, and not one less for the thieving bitch." Captain Orangebeard fondled my tit, then gave it a pinch. "Unless you prefer more."

I spat in his good eye.

Never pick pockets while ill. One bloody sneeze, and I'd been caught by the worst pirate of the lot. He'd carried me to his ship and ordered his crew to strip me bare on the coldest day in December. I shivered with both chill and dread, and tested the ropes that spread my limbs wide.

Whatever they had in mind couldn't be any worse than starvation. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer for my young brothers, still waiting at home for some bread.

A cheer rang out. Orangebeard dropped to his knees. I looked down in time to see his tongue wriggle over his lips like a hungry maggot.

"Count 'em out, Miss." He leaned closer to my quim. "And remember, I stop at twenty."

His hot tongue whipped across my sensitive flesh. When I didn't speak, he glanced up. "Well?"

I gritted my teeth and hid any signs of pleasure. "One."

When he reached ten, the moisture between my thighs betrayed me. He fingered me roughly, and I bit my lip to keep quiet. By fifteen, I was close. But the bastard waited longer between each lick, and the feeling inside my womb stalled. When twenty came, alas, I had not.

They released me. I threw on my dress and ran all the way home.

My brothers gathered 'round and hugged me tight. John called out loudest over the din. "They said you'd been caught by Orangebeard himself." He brushed away a tear. "Did he whip you, sis?"

"No whipping, sweet." I ruffled his hair while my sex trembled. "But I did get a good tongue-lashing."

* * *

Have a great weekend!