Hurrah for the Pirate King

"Yes! Yes! Give it to me! Fuck my pussy! I'm close! So close! Cumming... cumming... cumming... ahhhh! Ohhh! Yes! Yes! Yes! Ohhh..."

I felt her tighten spasmodically on my cock as she came. I was close to my own climax and continued to drive my cock into her. I was almost there, the cum boiling in my balls, ready to blast out and soak her sopping cooze, when Dariah opened her eyes and smiled knowingly at me, feeling my readiness to show her how much she was pleasuring me.

She bottomed out on my ramrod and held herself there while she did something with her pussy muscles. Suddenly, although my cock was hard as a rock and I was as ready as I'd ever been to shoot my spunk into a woman, I couldn't cum! Dariah saw the surprise on my face and chuckled gently, not laughing at me but rather understanding my disconcerted expression and agreeing with me.

"It's so much better when two people cum together, don't you think?" she asked. "Just lie still, darling Harry. I'll do it all."

Still keeping that grip on my rod, Dariah began to squeeze me with her cunt muscles. Not a ripple, exactly; more of a vibration, cycling up and down my cock from the head to the root and back. The feeling was of exquisite pleasure bordering on pain. I felt my body suddenly go sweat-slick, though I wasn't moving at all. Unbidden, my hands rose again to Dariah's boobies and she leaned into my caress, sighing with enjoyment as she rubbed into my palms with those lustful nips of hers. She gradually added hip motion to whatever it was she was doing to me, rocking back and forth on my iron-hard pole. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears as she rode me and my breathing became ragged.

"What are you doing to me?" I groaned as she increased the tempo and the sensations set off tiny fireworks on my retinas. Dariah was moaning too as she used my cock and my hands to seek her own pleasure peak.

"Not long now,ma chere, not long.... I'm getting close. Closer... ohh, yes, soon... ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, so near! Now! Fuck me hard! Fuck me!"

She released that peculiar pussy-grip on my cock and I responded by grabbing her hips and jamming as far into her as I could, again and again. We weren't two people fucking any more; we were one being with four limbs seeking its release and I couldn't tell where her vagina ended and my penis began. As my cum shot through us I felt her orgasm shuddering through us, an ecstatic release the like of which I had never known before. I fainted dead away for the first time in my sexual experience, never realizing that Dariah had fallen on top of me, eyes rolled backwards in her head.

When I came to, Dariah was curled up next to me, watching. I got up on one elbow and looked at her.

"That was one helluva powerful experience," I said. "Dariah, you're marvelous." She smiled at me and moved closer, inviting me to cuddle her.

"Dear Harry, my hobby is sex. Not fucking, anyone can do that; but learning how to give and receive sexual pleasure. Learning how to prolong the act for as long as I and my partner wish. I've been studying the art for going on 25 years, gathering the bits and pieces of sexual knowledge various cultures of this planet have discovered into one place and assimilating them. I think I can safely say that I'm one of the best partners you will ever enjoy." She kissed me gently and I stroked her tangled hair.

"What did you do to me," I began hesitantly, "when you felt I was about to climax and you weren't ready?"

"I learned that trick from one of Japan's Living National Treasures, the lastOiranof the First Rank. It's really curious," she added parenthetically, "how a nation as sexually open as Japan can simultaneously be so puritanical when they consider sex as a business. Theoiranwere prostitutes in the legal sense, but they were as skilled in their field of pleasing men as thegeishaare in theirs.

"Her granddaughter is a model on the Far East circuit and introduced us. She is trying to persuade her grandmother to write down all her learning for me because the Japanese government will not permit her to take apprentices. I stay with her and she teaches me what she can when I do shows in Tokyo."

Dariah paused and looked at me, considering. At last she said, "Harry, you know we are going to be stranded here for a couple of days. If you are willing, I can help you make Rani a present she will appreciate.

"Will you let me train you in the art of making love to a woman?"

"I haven't taken her to bed yet, Dariah," I said. "Not that I don't want to, it's just that the time has never been right for it."

"So much the better. If you permit me to teach you, when you bed each other ¾ and you will, if I know my niece ¾ it will be an experience neither of you will ever forget. Are you willing to try, Harry?"

I considered for a minute. "This is knowledge to kill for. I'd be a fool not to take your offer."

Dariah laughed and nibbled my nipple. "You're not a fool, Harry. Let's get cleaned up and eat dinner, then come back and begin, shall we?"

The blizzard kept us at Jack's Truck Stop and Motor Lodge for three full days before the highways were open again. During that time, Dariah and I left the apartment only to eat. Those were also the only times we put clothes on.

Dariah was an able teacher and I was her awed pupil. She gave me the full benefit of her years of study in the field of sex, and was a demanding taskmaster. By the time we were ready to get back on the road I was worn to a shadow of my former self; but the learning she had imparted was beyond price. She had taught me how to satiate a woman in the bedroom.

I bade Dariah a tender farewell at the airport and headed for home. I was tired yet elated by what I had learned, and felt somewhat disconnected from my own body. It felt as though my Mercedes was driving herself rather than being guided by me. My euphoria lasted until I pulled up in front of my house and fell back to earth with a thud. The snowplows had pushed a mountain of ice and frozen slush taller than I was into the end of my driveway, and I was on the wrong side of it. Cursing, I floundered through multiple feet of snow to the back hall where my cold weather snow suit and heavy duty field boots hung ready for use. I thanked my lucky stars for the powerful snowblower waiting in the garage, and congratulated myself for having ordered it with an electric starter.

Hours later, the Q-Ship was safe in her berth and the snowblower was cleaned and back in its slot. I had started a fire in the woodstove in the living room, taken a hot shower and settled into my easy chair with a mug of hot chocolate when it dawned on me that I hadn't called Rani to let her know I had finally made it home safely. I crossed the room and dialed her cellphone.

"Harry! I'm glad you called. Dariah called and let us know she was about to board her flight hours ago. I was starting to worry, darling."

"It does help if you don't have to move Mount Everest out of the driveway before you can put your car in the garage. I only finished a little while ago. I'm sitting by a nice warm fire sipping hot cocoa. Where are you, baby?"

"I'm still at stately Wayne Manor." I'd just taken a sip of my chocolate and blew it out my nose as Rani's wry comment hit me. Her parents' house had struck me exactly the same way. "Daddy is going to put me on the bus in the morning; they are still running a reduced schedule due to the storm. I won't be back until late tomorrow." She paused. "I wish I was there with you, darling man, sharing your chocolate and the fireside."

"I take it you are not alone."

"I'm in the kitchen helping Mother get dinner ready."

"So you can't take a minute to imagine my hands fondling your breasts, feeling the weight of them, watching your nipples stiffen up as the cold air hits them and I tickle them with a fingertip."

"Oh, Harry, you bastard," she breathed softly into my ear.

"And you can't relax against something while you feel my fingers feather-tracing their way down to your mound, leaving a trail of sensation behind them as they find your outer lips and slip between them to brush against your clit, feeling the wetness seeping out of your pussy."

"Harry, please stop... I can't do anything here -"

"And your can't dream that my fingers are wet with your womanly oils as they press into your vagina, moving ever so slowly in and out of you, feeling the slickness of your inner walls, feeling the heat and weight of you as your nether lips swell, waiting for your lover to slide into you and make you cum on his swollen purple cock, waiting to feel him fill the aching gap between your legs and flood you with pleasure..."

Her breathing told me she was fighting to preserve her demeanor in front of her mother as I tortured her with erotic speech and visions. I could sense her frustration, her need to cum, and her embarrassment were she to do so in front of her mother.

"Oh Harry, what you are doing to me!" she whispered "I wish I had you here right now!"

"Well, my darling, hurry back to the city and perhaps we can do something about that. And in the meantime, maybe you'd better tell your mother you need the bathroom. You don't have to tell her what you need itfor."

"Oh, you are a devil!" she said "I'll hurry home as soon as I can. You are so unfair to leave me in this state. Goodbye, my love."

"Bye, darling." I hung up the phone and contemplated my own erection, pleased at what I'd done to her. A hand crept to my root before it dawned on me what her last words had been. Damn. It surely looked as if things were getting serious.

I didn't see nearly as much of Rani outside our ballroom classes as I wanted to in December. 'Twas the season for office parties. Many of them provide entertainment; and for a surprising number that entertainment is belly-dance. Between her regular gigs at Café Morocco, the private parties thrown there, and holiday parties at hotels six nights a week she was booked solid. The only day of the week we could get together was Sunday, and I missed one Sunday due to a hacker penetration in the Boston office that kept me out of town over the weekend. Though we spoke on the phone every day, I was frustrated at not being able to be with her. I knew personal scheduling is a hazard of the game when you date a dancer, but that didn't make it any easier to take. She didn't like it much either, but she assured me once the holidays were over things would go back to normal and we'd have time for each other.

Five days before New Year's, I found an email from her in my inbox.

"I just got an evite from a company I consult with. Their New Year's Eve party is going to be held at the Carleton Hotel, 8 PM to whenever. It's a costume ball. It's all you can eat and drink, and they're talking about a live band. Would you care to be my escort? Do you have a costume?"

I emailed back:

"Costume is not a problem, and I would be delighted to be your escort. Where/when should we meet?"

"Pick me up at my place at 7 PM. And could you PLEASE bring your kit? My PC has gotten so balky I can barely use it. TX! xoxo, darling man."

That evening, I dug into the back of my closet and pulled out a garment bag and two boxes. I opened them up. The garment bag yielded up a silk shirt with ruffles at throat and cuffs, a pair of flowing black pantaloons, a red skirted broadcloth coat with foldback cuffs trimmed with black braid and gold buttons, a wide gold sash, and a pair of knee-high boots that looked heavier than they were, being made of coat-weight leather - dancing shoes in disguise. The first box held a cavalier's black hat, one edge pinned up Aussie-style with a white ostrich plume. The second, made of wood, held a guilty secret of mine: a black leather baldric and a replica Model 1860 US Navy cutlass mounted in a swiveling scabbard so it always hangs straight down.

The Model 1860 has the brass cup handguard that identifies a cutlass as a cutlass in the minds of the public. This one was balanced to my hand but was not sharpened, for onstage safety. I was exceedingly fond of it but apart from playing a jolly jack tar in the chorus of HMS Pinafore and my turn as the Pirate King the last time the Savoyards had staged Penzance, I almost never had an excuse to take it out, much less wear it. There were times when I thought I was born into the wrong era.

Be that as it may, I set up the ironing board, ironed the wrinkles out of the clothing, and broke out saddle soap and carefully cleaned and polished the leather of the boots, the baldric and the scabbard. I wanted to do justice to whatever costume Rani might be wearing.

On New Year's Eve Day as I was getting ready for work, I realized I had a slight problem. The cutlass would fit sideways into the garment bag, the scabbard stuck into one of the boots, but what could I do about the hat? Garment bag plus computer-repair kit left me one hand short. There was no help for it. I opened the hatbox, put the plumed hat on and headed out the door.

The howls of laughter that greeted me when I walked into the office were memorable indeed. My explanation fell on deaf ears, and my coworkers needled me about it until we knocked off for the day at two for our in-house New Year's Eve buffet and party. I had to make an appearance and to my surprise found myself the center of attention of a group of women. I suspected the hat had more than a little to do with that. It hinted, I suppose, that there were hidden depths to the mild-mannered computer jock. After being cornered under the mistletoe a couple of times and with three business cards slipped into my pocket, I was finally able to break away, gather up my bags and cab it downtown to Rani's building. We'd necked in the lobby, but this would be my first visit to her apartment.

I pressed the intercom switch by her nameplate. "Rani, it's me," I said.

"Hi, Harry!" she replied, her voice tinny through the tiny speaker. "Take the right-hand elevator to the penthouse. Punch 60521 before you hit the button." The lobby door buzzed and let me in. Mulling the strange instructions, I went to the elevator on the far side of the lobby past the couches and chairs on the Persian carpet I remembered so well and pressed the call button. After a minute, the elevator doors opened. I looked at the floor selector panel.

The instructions now made sense. There were six floors plus a penthouse in the building, four apartments per floor. All the buttons except P for Penthouse glowed. Above the floor buttons was a security keypad. I punched in 60521 and the P button lit. I pressed it, the doors closed, and the elevator rose to the top floor without stopping. I got out. What I saw was not what I expected.

The elevator opened into a foyer floored in white marble with black accents. Ornamental pierced screens and wall hangings created the flavor of an Indian palace. An alabaster fountain tinkled in the center. I walked past it into the central corridor, following the sound of Middle Eastern dance music to the living room, done again in Indian fashion with brass hanging lamps, low tables and divans, and incredibly large pillows piled around the perimeter on oriental carpets. Rani, her shapely ass sticking high in the air in a pair of skintight jeans, was half in and half out of a closet, swearing softly as she searched for something.

"Is there somewhere I can change?" I asked, setting down my two cases. Rani looked behind her, saw me standing there and bounded theatrically across the room, a grand jétè ending with my catching her around the waist and spinning her to shed velocity, and her pulling me into a hug. I was painfully aware of her luscious boobs flattening against my chest and resisted the urge to cup her buttocks. She gave me a quick peck on the lips and took me by the hand, picking up my computer doctor kit in her right hand as I lifted the bag with my costume in it in my left.

"You can change in my bedroom," she said, leading me down the corridor to the right, past the entrance to the foyer, all the way to the room at the end of the passageway. "I'll be a little while, so if you finish early maybe you could start on the computer, please? It's in there as well. I can change in the living room and I'll come get you when I'm ready. Would you like something to drink?" she asked, flirting from beneath her eyelashes.

"Never when I'm working," I said firmly, setting my costume on the bed and motioning her to set my professional bag of tricks down by the computer. "Not only do I need a clear head, but I could tell you horror stories about what happens when liquid and computers mix."

"I'll leave you to it, then," she said, kissing meen passantas she walked to the bedroom door. I admired the view and the bounce of her breasts, and when she had gone closed the door and changed into my pirate outfit, leaving the hat, baldric and cutlass on Rani's king-sized bed as I opened my other bag and fired up her PC.

The machine booted up so slowly I began to wonder if there was an ancient 386 CPU inside. When the desktop finally opened, the first thing I did was to run a search for temporary files. Bingo! The temporary memory and Internet caches hadn't been properly set. The computer memory was clogged. After resetting the caches and dumping the temp files I inserted my 'quick-fix disk' and copied it onto Rani's hard drive. Setting to work with the new icons, I swept through the machine and deleted an astonishing amount of spyware and garbage. The next disk to go in was my integrated protection disk. I initiated a tedious but absolutely necessary system tune-up which, when completed a couple of hours hence, would leave Rani with a virus-free PC functioning at peak efficiency. I didn't hear the bedroom door open.

"Well, Harry? What do you think?"

I swiveled around and my eyes popped out on stalks. She was dressed in a transparent short-waisted white silk blouse cut indecently low, with a short silver brocade vest fastened over it that struggled to contain her stupendous tits. I had no doubt the vest was secure, but Rani's boobs bulged over it just enough to make you hope it wasn't up to its task. Her midriff was bare save for a small silver pendant hanging from her pierced belly button. Transparent white silk harem pants were caught at her hips by a belt of sterling bells. Silver bracelets, anklets and a choker-style necklace gleamed at neck, wrists and ankles. White dancing slippers covered her feet. Exotic sterling earrings hung from her lobes, and a small white conic hat trimmed in silver braid with her lustrous black hair pulled through it in a ponytail atop her head completed the outfit. I reeled my eyes back in and found my voice.

"Absolutely incredible! You look like a genie, Rani."

She walked over to me, one hand behind her back. She brought it out and handed me a 1964 Jim Beam bottle, carefully painted with glass paints to match the one used on I Dream of Jeannie as Jeannie's genie bottle.

"That was the idea, master."

I stood, gathered her unresisting into my arms and just held her for a long time. Her perfume was intoxicating. I very much wanted to fuck her on the spot, but there was the matter of that damned party. I wondered if this was a promise for later. At last I said, "You'd better get a coat. We have to get going. Just let me don my baldric and hat, and I'll be ready."

She reluctantly broke the embrace. "I'll get my cloak. Don't forget the bottle. Remember, he who controls the bottle commands the genie, or so the legends say." My cock ached to invade her.Definitelya promise for later.

After I slipped the baldric over my head and adjusted it so the cutlass hung at my left hip to my satisfaction, I wondered what to do with the bottle. It was obviously part of Rani's shtick for the evening, part of a costume competition perhaps? I finally tucked it into the sash in the small of my back, where it would ride unobtrusively, at least as long as I was standing. Pulling on a pair of thin black leather gloves against the cold, I donned my pirate captain's hat, gave one last brush to my Vandyke in the mirror and walked out of the room. Rani was waiting by the archway to the foyer, a full length, full circle black velvet opera cloak with hood completely covering her and giving no hint of the glories that waited beneath. I offered her my arm; she took it. As a couple, we walked to the elevator.