Written by C H Clepitt
With the recent surge in the news about women marrying ghosts (just Google it, if you’re interested, that sentence literally covers it) and one even getting divorced again; wedded bliss to someone without a body clearly not being all she anticipated, I have been inspired to create this piece of fiction. Whilst this has been inspired by true events, it is a complete work of fiction. All characters (living and deceased) places, and events are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to persons, ghosts, places or events is purely coincidental. As this is spoof erotica, it does, of course, contain naughty bits, so is rated 18+. If you are under 18 please go away and come back when you’re old enough.
As always, if this receives enough interest, I could be convinced to expand it into a full length book and publish it properly. Experience has taught me, however, that the interest pool is limited…
Part One: A Pirate’s Death
Well, it were a good death, as deaths go. I weren’t strung up, nor keelhauled, nor filled w’lead. They says I went mad in the end. Syphilis’ll do that to ye. I were quite the ladies man, truth be told. I’d had me share o’ pirate wenches, commoners and ladies. I think it were a lady that undid me in the end. It went like this… we were boarding the queen’s ship Yardarm, falsely named, if you ask me, for their cap’ain was a weedy little scoundrel, barely able to grow a beard. He cried and pissed himself before I ran him through.
It were policy aboard me ship to let the women and children go. We ain’t monsters, and we have honour, not matter what lies yer ‘istory books tells ye. But this particular one weren’t goin’ without a fight. Cap’ain’s wife, cap’ain’s cabin. Me first mate comes out to me, says;
“Cap’ain, she won’t leave, she’s demandin’ parlay.”
“Parlay?” Says I, all confused like. “But we’re releasing her, what is there to parlay?”
“She’m don’t wanna be released, Cap’ain,” says he.
“Right you are, Jimmy,” says I, rolling up me sleeves and moving t’wards her cabin. “I’ll parlay.”
I knocked lightly on the door and enters, removing me hat as I does.
“Captain Goldcock?” she asks me, all proper, like. They calls me Captain Goldcock on account of Puck, me famous fighting cock, still undefeated to my knowledge.
“Yes, ma’am,” I nods respectfully as I enters the room.
“Do you mean to have your way with me?” she asks, all proper, like.
“No, ma’am,” I nods courteously. “You be free to leave the ship. We can set you in a lifeboat, or you can sail with us to land, and you has me word no harm’ll come te ye.”
“What if I don’t want to return to land?” she asks, sticking her chin at me, all stubborn like. She can’t be a day over one and twenty, and her skin is pale as ivory and smooth as the silk in me sails. Her bosom heaves in her tight, proper dress, and I fingers the hilt of me sword, pondering whether I oughta cut it free.
“Well, ma’am,” I says, ignoring the twitching in me trousers at the sight of her catching her breath. “Do you have an useful skills that would lend themselves to pirating?”
“I have nothing but my body,” says she, a tear rolling down her cheek. “My father traded that to my husband for a share of his tea company.”
“Well, ma’am,” says I, stiffening and raising to me full height. “I may not be no gentleman, but I do not trade in human flesh. People be free to join me crew, and work for their keep, but they gets an even share of what they earns, and their bodies be their own.”
Her lips twitches in a sort of smile, and I finds meself studying ‘em as if I’ve never seen a lip in me life.
“Do you think I could learn to be useful, Captain?” She’s studying me beard. It’s much more manly than the one sported by her sorry excuse for a husband.
“I believe so, Ma’am,” says I, and I offers her me arm.
“Come with me, I’ll escort you to the ship, and we’ll find you somewhere to sleep.”
She looks to me, then to the captain sized bunk, not a stone’s throw from where she be sittin’, and the heave of her bosom grows quicker.
“Are you in a terrible hurry, Captain?” She stands slow and moves towards me. I feels me jolly roger reach half mast.
“What did you have in mind, ma’am?” I asks.
“Well, do you think I’m appropriately dressed for piracy?” She be so close now I can feel her sweet breath on me neck, and I know what she wants. Me flag is fully flying now, and I wants it to, so I draws me sword and cuts through the laces on her bodice, allowing her frills and the like to fall to the deck. She looks up at me, not peeved or upset, but a curious expression. “Is this better?” She asks, standing before me, naked and unashamed.
“I’d say so, ma’am, at least from where I be standing,” says I.
“And where are you standing?” she undoes me belt and I lets her.
As me trousers hits the deck, she has me flagpole in her hand, the motion of her soft skin against it enough to make me moan. She wants it. There’s no question in my mind. No doubt her scrawny husband neither knew nor cared how to please a woman, but I do, and so she’ll have to be patient. I turns her towards the bed and moves her to it. This is when our lips meet for the first time. As I kiss her I cup her soft breasts in me hands and gently but firmly caress her nipples with me thumbs. She pushes her body closer to me, and moans at the sensation, and I takes the opportunity to taste her. Our tongues rub against each other, frantic with the need. I feel her hands moving against my back and down to me arse, pulling me in, tighter against her. I moves me mouth to her neck and taste down to her breasts, and down, down further. She tastes of the salt of the sea and fresh as the breeze.
“Oh Captain!” she moans.
“Call me Goldcock.” Says I before returning to me feast.
“Goldcock!” She cries again, and again.
When at last me canon is in her porthole we are both ready. It ain’t long until the fuse is burnt and the shot released and I lay atop her, caressing her ivory skin, and staring into her deep pools of eyes.
“I’ve never…” she begins.
“You be free now,” I tells her. “You may do as you please.”
“And what if it pleases me to stay with you?” she asks, almost begging.
“Lady’s choice.” Says I.
Being with her was the happiest I’ve been. We pillaged and plundered and our nights were spent in each other’s arms. But her scrawn husband had the last laugh. He’d done for us both. He’d been whoring you see. If I hadn’t got ‘im, the clap would. And it got us both. Her being a lady, and a good soul has passed onto a better place. Me being a murdering pirate, I’m doomed to walk this earth for eternity, alone, or so I thought.
Part Two: Holiday Romance
I mostly sticks to beaches for me hauntings. They reminds me of coming ashore, and it amuses me to make footprints appear before folks in the sand. Those land loving dogs fair pisses ‘emselves at ghost prints. I’m really careful to do it only when one person is looking, sowing the seeds of doubt. Makes ‘em think they be crazy. Anyway, one day I was walking along the beach, and there’s these three buxom wenches. They are wearing very little, which I always appreciates, and reading something that was making ‘em cackle like a gaggle of geese.
“No, no,” says one. “It says here that you have to think about the sort of ghost you want. Just close your eyes and think of it, and it’ll come to you. Or maybe in you!” She cackles again.
“I want a pirate!” Says the one with a more ample bosom than the rest. “I’m gunna try right now!” She grins raunchily and lays back on her towel.
Want a pirate do ye? Thinks I as her friends laugh and flick to another page in their publication. I haven’t tupped a female since I’ve been decease, but you don’t forget how it’s done. She’s lying on her back, eyes closed, hands by her sides, knees raised, legs slightly apart. Like she’s waiting for me. I runs a tentative finger up the outside of her leg, starting at her ankle and finishing at her hip. She makes a soft groaning noise, and shifts slightly. Can she feel me? Sticking with the finger, I moves to her breast, encircling her nipple with the very tip, barely touching her. She shifts, pushing herself towards me hand. She definitely feels me! I’m taking it seriously now. I leans in and kisses her neck, and she moans and wriggles again. Resting my thigh between hers, I take both hands to her desert islands and caress, rubbing the rock hard peaks firmly with me thumbs. She moans louder and moves her hips up against me, drawing the attention of her crew, who look up from their reading, all perplexed like, to see what the fuss is about.
“Carly?” One of them asks tentatively, but she be lost in me ghostly embrace. If we’d have been alone this would have just been the beginning, and I’d have spent hours pleasing her. I loves the moaning of a wench when all she wants is your saber to run her through, but you makes her wait, and moan until she can barely hold it. But we ain’t alone, and if it goes on too long, these geese’ll stop us.
I moves one down to the well manicured lawn below the islands, and slips me hand between her thighs whilst undoing me belt with the other. She is already wet as the sea and smooth as seaweed and as I push against her, she moans again. It be time to impale her on me long sword, but as I does it, the strangest thing happens.
“Goldcock!” she cries! “Goldcock! Pillage me, Goldcock!”
The shock at her knowing my name almost falters me, but I ain’t that kind of pirate. And me ghost cannon is different, I am able to undulate it, and vibrate it at the frequency of the spirit realm. She’s lost in me now, moaning, and thrusting, slick with sweat and I have to admit, I’m lost in her too. Plunging and withdrawing me sword faster and faster as she moans and cries;
“Goldcock! Don’t stop! Keep going!”
“Carly! This isn’t funny! People are looking!” One of the harpies tries to interrupt us. But it be too late. We’re done. With a shudder we release.
“What was that?” The harpy demands as my princess lies, drenched in her own sweat and my ectoplasm.
“That was the great pirate Goldcock,” she sighs contentedly as she closes her eyes.
Part Three: Making it Legal
She called to me every night after that, and I would come to her, on her and in her. I had not had such a sense of purpose since I were alive. And me princess be insatiable. It be nightly, multiple times a night. I don’t have time to haunt or wander the beaches, by the time she’s rested I be so depleted that I vanishes to I don’t know where. Only to be called up again to pleasure her.
I sometimes thought to meself that she thought no more of me than she would of a dildo, just a convenience to satiate her craving for the flagpole. That was until I were summoned to a room full of people. She were standing in the centre, wearing a white frock. Ironic.
“He’s here,” she announces, as I appear.
“Very well,” a genderless being in long robes and blue glass over its eyes opens a book. “Do you, Carly Rose Flower Pineapple Teflon McBride take Captain Horatio P Goldcock to be your soulmate in spirit, for the rest of eternity?”
“I do!” She trills loudly. Everyone claps.
“And you you, Captain Horatio P Goldcock, of the Bristol Goldcocks take Carly Rose Flower Pineapple Teflon McBride to be your soulmate in spirit for the rest of eternity?”
“Hang on a minute, matey,” I begins. “Eternity is a very long time to be tethered to one wench, even one as shapely as she…”
“He does!” She trills excitedly.
“Then I now proclaim your bond complete! Go forth and be happy!”
I feel like I might have been keelhauled into this. Everyone’s congratulating her on her nuptials and asking what her plans are now.
I reckon my focus will have to be the wedding night…
Thank you for reading this short story. As always, I would love to hear what you think. Pop a comment below. If there is enough interest I could be persuaded to turn this into a book…
The cover was cobbled together with the help of these lovely folks who make their artwork public domain.
Mystic Art Design https://pixabay.com/en/pirate-seafaring-bold-cruise-ship-2135580/