The Rogue's Revenge

He continued to fuck her ass in doggy position, hard and deep, his thick member creating a delicious pain she'd never experienced before as he bottomed out in her bottom. As the initial shock and agony of his entrance faded, she began to enjoy it. She felt the captain's hands squeezing her, his cock filling her, and she moaned. It felt so wrong... yet so, so right.

She'd always had a latent interest in anal, but poor little ol' Steve hadn't a clue. To him, the epitome of sex was soft, slow missionary lovemaking, with extra kisses and cuddles. If she tried to guide him to something else, he would pretend like nothing had happened and continue on. It was sweet how gentle he was, but she couldn't help but imagine something more thrilling. She couldn't help but hunger for more.

And now she was getting it. All that rage, all that anger. The ultimate in break up sex, centuries after the breakup had occurred. Laura wondered how many women had stumbled over the wreckage and succumbed to him over the years. Enough to spark bedtime horror stories and keep the locals away.

She felt the pirate thrust harder and cried out as he slammed into her, balls slapping her voluptuous ass. He gripped her throat as he pumped faster. She struggled, unable to breathe. Finally, he came deep in her bowels, and just before she blacked out, he released her. She collapsed in the sand, ghost cum leaking from her wrecked asshole.

Her fingers brushed the handle of the dagger. It was still hot to the touch, but bearable. She pulled it her way. Just as she palmed weapon, she felt the pirate's rage surge. She needed to act quickly, or she would die.

She turned. The pirate was no longer invisible. He stood, old, weathered, a great red scraggly beard on his face, and an elaborate captain's hat on his head. He had seen better days, that's for sure.

The Rogue had unsheathed his sword and was rushing her to run her through. Quickly, with an agility she didn't know she possessed, she ducked under his thrust and stabbed him in the chest.

He screamed, a terribly, unearthly scream. The dagger's jewel flashed bright orange-blue and burst into flame. The ghost pirate caught fire. He ineffectually clawed at the pommel before finally falling. His flesh burned away, and all that was left were bones and ash. And the dagger, somehow unharmed.

In fact, the blade seemed fresh, the rust gone, the jewel whole again. It flashed brightly, then the light faded. It was, once again, just a dagger. A beautiful piece of history.

Now Laura was sure of it: the gypsy hasn't lied when she said this dagger belonged to a pirate. In fact, she was sure it had belonged to the Rogue. Given to him by his lover, it was also his downfall. The only thing that could put him to rest, at last.

And now it was done.

Laura stood. She was naked, covered in dirt, her clothes destroyed. She picked up the dagger and limped her way out of the ship. The tide had come in, and the sun was rising. It was a new day.

As she was wading to the shore, she heard a shout. Looking up, she saw Steve at the top of the cliff.

"AHOY MATEY!" she called out.

"LAURA! How on earth did you get down there?? Also, where are your clothes? Why did you leave without me?"

Laura just shrugged and smiled. It had been a crazy night... but she'd done it. Here she was, standing next to a real pirate ship, holding a real pirate's dagger. Not to mention, having her "booty" fucked by a real pirate cock, even if it was a ghost.

Laughing, she put her foot on a nearby rock and struck a pose. She lifted the shiny new dagger into the air, its sapphire glittering in the sun.

"I, Laura Ravencroft, do claim this discovery of the wreck of The Rogue's Revenge!" she shouted.

Softly, she added under her breath: "Rest in Peace, Rogue. May you find satisfaction in the afterlife."