The Sapphic Pirate Miranda Pt. 07

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Half the city came out for the party we threw, burning the remnants of the old regime (including some old nanny-goat scolds we'd found who went to their deaths screaming about how we'd all die of something called "cholesterol"-- well, not as fast as they died, I reckon). Though that wretched FlavKelp stank so badly when we burned it that instead we had a sort of "Tea Party" with it in the river. The woodspeople brought animals to cook, and once they'd had their first taste of meat in years, the residents of Thinopolis (which I was pondering renaming... how do you like "Mirandaville?") soon found themselves having randy thoughts. My big-assed pirate crew proved highly popular, some extracting substantial prices for sex with men, others finding various Thinopolis females to their fancy for Sapphic frolics.

Myself, I was little enough interested in the waiflike Thinopolis sort but I was much taken with the leader of the woodspeople, a man named Kroll, and his woman, a most curvaceous redhead named Sarah. Both had escaped from Thinopolis' dreary regimen some years earlier, and lived a happier life in the woods, planning for the day when their numbers would be sufficient to overthrow the city.

"Will there be peace between our peoples?" Kroll asked me frankly, as we drank Slubenka's wine on the terrace, and below us the bonfire burned brightly and so, too, did the passions of our peoples.

"There is one way aboard my ship in which we seal the sacredness of such a pact," said I. "In bed."

Kroll looked at Sarah and she smiled at him, generously. "I trust your love enough that I do not fear one night with another," she said, and he took her hands and looked back at her with the utmost devotion.

"Um, not to intrude on this tender scene, but maybe you forgot I'm the SAPPHIC Pirate Miranda," I said. "I was speaking of her."

"Oh!" Sarah said. "I-- I've never been with--"

"Sister, you're in for a treat," I said. "Is this acceptable to you, Kroll?"

He shrugged. "What can I say except what she said? I trust her as she trusts me."

"Great," I said, grabbing Sarah's arm and pulling her toward my bed-chamber. "Make yourself at home. Hippolyte, show him a good time."

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Sarah was, unsurprisingly, hesitant and shy, and I proceeded gently with her. First we cuddled and kissed, her abundantly rounded form well-cushioned without being fat; slowly she grew more comfortable, her tongue peeking out of her mouth as our lips met, stroking my breast as I stroked hers. I lifted her woolen sweater over her head and breathed in the damp sweatiness of the cotton shirt underneath, nuzzling the space between her ample breasts.

I moved down and lifted the shirt to expose a soft belly, kissing it as I kneaded her breasts in their bodice. Her head rolled back on the bed and I knew she was lost in the pleasure of another woman's gentle touch. I moved up to her breasts and she released them from their imprisonment-- oh! They were lovely, round and full, not droopy like so many of those I had become accustomed to seeing on my ship each day-- yet neither were they so petite and erect as my own. They were woman's breasts, not a girl's, and I sucked at their soft abundance most eagerly.

As I did so I could feel Sarah's legs stirring below, as if there were an itch in need of scratching in their vicinity, and I moved down to satisfy that command. I spread her legs apart and rubbed my face in the abundant thatch of red hay between her legs, then began to lightly lick her petals apart, which occasioned an impressive series of moans. I licked and sucked at her womanly flowers vigorously while molding with my hands her ample buttocks; she was near the point of the Tingle when I suddenly pushed her arse into the air and split her buttocks apart to lick at the tiny brown bud between them. "Oh yes, yes, God, yes," she cried, and I slipped a finger into her arse as I went back to licking her puss, and was soon gratified with the unmistakable throes of her Tingle, as she bucked up and down on my face, and her arse-ring throbbed around my finger inside her.

At last her exertions came to an end, and I moved up to lay beside her, basking in the expression of amazement and delight which I found reflected back at me. "Oh Miranda," she said. "I've never felt anything like that," she said, and then she kissed me, licking the taste of her own sex from my face, still liberally coated with her abundant juices.

I was just about to suggest her next move when suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Blast the scurvy dogs," I said, and opened it. Hippolyte and Kroll stood there, both naked, with worried looks. I was amused to note that the hair of both was well-mussed.

"Something awful is about to happen," Kroll said.

"What?" I asked.

"My men have spotted a ship coming our way."

"Ships must use this port every day," I said. "What is so--"

"It's Abdul al-Hassan," he said, and when he saw that that name registered nothing with me, added, in tones of the utmost dread and revulsion, "The Sodomite Pirate Abdul al-Hassan."

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EPILOGUE

"Randi!"

There was no answer.

"Randi! Wake up!"

The girl dozing next to the tree stirred and sat up groggily. Her sister began to brush bits of grass off her long blue dress. "I brought you out here to practice your Latin verbs, not to get lost in your fantasies again."

"I wasn't, I was pondering whether..." the younger girl said, irritably, but trailing off before she could finish the thought.

They stood up, and the older girl began to lead the younger one to the house, looking carefully to make sure no carriages or motorcars were coming down the road as they crossed it. "We have to be back at the house by two, Mother has invited Reverend Pinchwork for tea. What were you thinking of this time? Pirates? Cowboys and Indians? The war with the Zulus?"

"Don't remember," the younger girl muttered, unconvincingly.

"One of them, no doubt. Miranda Sutworth, how a sweet little girl can want to think of such disagreeable subjects is a mystery," the older sister said. "Still, I suppose at your age, it's all innocent fun. You're still too young for the sordid reality to have impinged upon your world, I expect."

"That's right, Amelia," Miranda muttered, as she contemplated the image of a cutlass being brought down upon the Reverend Pinchwork's skull, and the effect that act would have upon one of Mother's interminable teas.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Those of you who have read other BBW tales by me may have recognized allusions to three other stories of mine. If you enjoyed The Sapphic Pirate Miranda, you may also enjoy those stories both for their own sakes and to read more about the characters who make guest appearances here: "Train to Schmertzylvania," "What Lana Taught Me," and "Escape From Thinopolis." Find them at my author link listed above and below this story.