****** Pirates by Nicholas Proxy ******
===============================================================================

Pirates


"I'm looking, I'm just not seeing." Emilie Vaughn held the cell phone to her
ear with her shoulder so that she could keep her hands tucked in the warmth of
her armpits. Her flats had little traction on the wet grass as she walked
around to the back of the old house.

"I'm sure they did say the key was in the planter, but I'm here, and believe me
there is no planter next to this stupid house." She looked at the rain gutters,
plugged up from months of neglect and bent from the morning's rain.

"I'm not doing that, Dan." She put her face against the window and peered into
the dark empty room inside.

"Because I'm wearing a white blouse and the window sills are filthy and the
buyers are going to be here in 20 minutes, you jerk." Emilie's breath had
fogged the glass too much to see through, and she stepped back to look up to
the second floor.

"Dammit!" The house overlooked the inlet and Emilie turned toward the water.
She looked through the mist at a few lobster boats bobbing on their moorings.
"Fine. Just send someone with a key. It's fucking freezing out here." She
snapped off the phone and started for the old dock that stretched out from the
house over the inlet. The dock was very long, stretching about seventy feet
out. And it was low tide, so it was about twenty feet down to the water. But a
weatherworn box was mounted at the end of the dock, and it looked like a good
place to hide a key.

About ten steps onto the dock, Emilie felt the first drops on her face.

"Shit!" She covered her breasts with her arms as best she could and quickened
her pace. As the rain came own harder, Emilie moved faster, until she was
running down the dock. Ten feet from the box, the boards shifted under her.
Creak.

She stopped still in her tracks. She looked down and saw the whole dock move a
foot to the left, and twenty feet below, the rain pummeled the swirling sea.

"Oh God oh God oh God." Emilie held her breath as the rain soaked her through.
The old wood swayed beneath her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

With a horrible splintering, the dock collapsed into the sea.

For a moment in the freezing water, Emilie didn't know which way was up. She
struggled her feet out of her flats and tried to see where to swim. A broken
plank brushed her thigh on it's way to the surface and Emilie followed it. With
a gasp of air she breached the surface just long enough to see that the shore
was farther away than she thought. Then she was knocked under again by the
waves.

The water was so cold and dark and the sudden rain drove harder with every
moment. Emilie felt the salt water in her eyes and nose and her mind spun with
the sea.

Something alive clamped on to her arm. She tried to wrench herself free of the
creature but it held tightly, and pulled. Emilie's head bumped against wood as
she thrashed and as her head breached the water, she screamed a watery cry.

"Stop twisting or I'll lose you!" The desperate voice filled her ear. Something
grasped her other arm and she suddenly knew that these things were not vicious
aquatic attackers, but the strong, rough hands of a fisherman.

And Emilie was pulled from the sea.

"Are there any others?" shouted the fisherman, his eyes darting across the
waves.

Emilie looked up from where she lay on the deck of the lobster boat at the
lanky young man in the soaking t-shirt. "No. Just me," she managed to utter.

"Ok." He gasped, almost as out of breath and scared as Emilie was. "I didn't -
- are you all right?" He dropped to his knees to look at Emilie, his eyes
moving quickly across her, looking for blood. "I'm ok. I'm just, that was
scary." She looked up at his eyes, which had stopped scanning for injury and
now lingered, on her chest. She looked down at her blouse. The thin, white
fabric clung to her heaving breasts, and her dark nipples had hardened tightly,
pressing out a half inch. She moved her arm across her chest and stood up.

"Can we get out of the rain?" She asked. "In here." The two went into the
small, enclosed part of the boat where the man turned up the space heater in
the corner. Emilie looked around for a place to sit, but her options were
limited. There were long compartments built into the sides of the boat that
looked right to sit on, except for the layers of grime. Emilie took an orange
life preserver off a hook.

"You won't need that." The man said, getting up from the heater.

"No, to sit on," she replied, and dropped it on the lid of one compartment. The
man opened the other one and rooted around inside. Emilie sat down and looked
at the man who had saved her life.

"What's your name?" Emilie asked.

His young, open face turned to her.

"Pete," he said.

"Thank you Pete."

"I don't see any dry clothes." He dropped the lid shut.

"There's a blanket in that one."

Emilie stood up and Pete got the dark gray blanket out.

"My names Emilie," she said.

"It's damp, but it's wool, so it'll still warm you." He handed her the coarse
army blanket.

"Thanks again." Emilie looked at the way his old black t-shirt flattened, wet,
against the lean muscles of his back. 'What about you?"

"I'm fine." He peeled the shirt off his torso, the cloth trying to cling to his
arms and chest. Emilie noticed a thin chain, loose around his neck. Emilie
looked away, and found herself staring at an old, worn copy of Playboy lying
open by the steering wheel. The woman in the picture was supposed to be a
pirate. She had a red bandana tied around her hair and a cutlass in her hand.
Her bodice was open and her breasts were as full and smooth as Emilie's own.
Emilie blushed and glanced quickly back at Pete, who stood wringing out his
shirt onto the floor.

"I don't know how to get you back to shore, exactly," he said, without looking
over at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I took my dad's rowboat out here. I don't have the keys to the boat." He
snaked his limber torso back into the damp shirt. "And we can't row 'til the
rain stops."

"Why'd you come out here without keys?" Emilie asked, though she thought she
knew.

"Get out of the house." Pete sat down on the opposite bench, and shrugged.
"Smoke a little pot." Emilie pulled the damp blanket tighter around her. He was
right, it was warm.

"How long do we have to wait, you think?"

"Dunno."

For a minute the two just sat in the boat, listening to the rain on the sea
outside. Out the window, Emilie could make out distant headlights by the house,
and she knew the buyers were right now trying to figure out where the hell she
was. It crossed her mind that they never would.

"Do you, by chance, have- uh, anymore of that pot?" Pete looked up at Emilie.
She smiled slightly.

"Do you smoke?" He asked.

"Uh.. little. In college. Not in a while." Emilie brushed some hair out of her
eyes.

Pete blinked at her for a moment. Then reached into his pocket and pulled out a
black film canister and a white pipe. Emilie watched as he knocked the ash out
and loaded the pipe from the canister.

"I think this lighter is shot," said Pete, and tossed the waterlogged lighter
toward a trashcan.

"Oh. I have one in my purse." Emilie reached around near her side. "Which is,
of course, somewhere in the ocean." She smiled sheepishly at Pete, who was
already rummaging in a jar by the wheel.

"My dad's got to have some matches around. Hold this" Pete handed Emilie the
pipe and she examined it carefully. It was small, and ivory, hand carved like a
gray whale.

"Is this an antique?"

"Beats me." Pete sat down on the bench beside her. "Found it on the beach two
years ago. Here." Pete lit a match, and Emilie lifted the ivory to her lips.
Pete held the match still and Emilie breathed gently in.

"Certainly a change from my Marlboros," she said, as she exhaled the smoke. For
the first time, Pete smiled.

He took a quick hit and passed it back to Emilie, who took a long, slow drag.
As she held in the smoke, she stared again at the pipe. The pot was kicking in,
and Emilie felt her mind start to change its familiar paths. She didn't feel
stupider; she just felt her attention moving to parts of her brain that she
hadn't paid attention to in a long time. She let the smoke escape her lungs.

"I don't have anything like this."

"What?" Asked Pete. He was pulling seeds out of the canister.

"This pipe. I never hold anything in my hands that is old and hand-carved."
Pete looked up at her, but she still stared at the ivory pipe.

"Everything I touch is disposable."

"I guess it is nice." Pete took it gently from her hands and looked at it
himself. Emilie leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and listened to
Pete take a deep drag.

"Did you come out here to look at that magazine?" She asked.

Pete was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke.

"Yeah. I guess."

Emilie still leaned back, still had her eyes closed.

"God, " she said. "I used to masturbate a lot. But I've been so busy for" She
leaned forward and opened her eyes. "years."

"I didn't say-"

"Is that magazine your favorite?"

"What do you mean?"

"I had a favorite, when I masturbated in high school. A romance novel. I even
took it to college." Pete put the pipe and canister back in his pocket.

"What was it about?" Emilie turned and looked at Pete. His eyes were sky blue,
and his curly, auburn hair was a little long, and wild.

"Pirates," she said.

The two looked gently at each other. The orange glow from the boat's single
bulb was the only light on the dark bay.

Pete leaned an inch closer to Emilie, and Emilie leaned in too. As their lips
touched, Emilie felt a warmth rise in her belly. He put one hand on the back of
her head, tangling his fingers in her wet hair, and kissed her deeply. Emilie's
eyes slipped shut and she relaxed her body into his arms. A moment later, their
lips softly parted.

Emilie looked up into Pete's wide eyes. She moved away slightly and stood up,
dropping the blanket to the deck. Her blouse still clung, wet, to her flesh,
and she watched Pete's hungry eyes roam over her proud tits and linger on her
stiff, dark nipples. She reached between two buttons and undid the front clasp.
A small tug and her heaving breasts were out of the bra cups, straining
directly against the wet blouse.

"Come here," she whispered.

In a moment Pete hands were on Emilie's chest, pulling apart the thin material.
As soon as the shirt was open, she felt the heat of his mouth envelop a cold
tit. Her nipple hardened more, even as his mouth warmed it, and she felt his
wild tongue dancing over her nub.

His hands clutching her back, his mouth devouring her tits, Emilie pulled
Pete's t-shirt up his back until it bunched at his shoulder blades. He pulled
away for a moment and he pulled the shirt over his head. Emilie clutched his
bare torso, the side of her head against his smooth chest. She ran her hands
down his abs as he fumbled with his belt. He opened his fly just as Emilie's
searching hands reached it. Pete wasn't wearing underwear, and his cock sprung
out into Emilie's grasp. She felt it, iron hard in her hand, and slowly slid
down his body.

"Oh God," Pete cried out, as his aching hard-on slid between Emilie's heavy
tits. His hands came down on either side, and pressed her globes around his
throbbing cock. Emilie looked up, into his eyes, and saw his overwhelming
pleasure. Together, they massaged his dick with her breasts, which were
becoming warmer with every moment. Emilie undid her pants and pulled them and
her panties down to her knees. As Pete's cock breached her deep cleavage, her
tongue swirled around the bulging head.

"Ohhh!" Pete's cock throbbed. Emilie dropped to her knees, and as his stiff
member slid out of her tits, she opened her mouth and took him down her throat.
"Ungggg!" Pete's fingers dug into her ample tit flesh.

Emilie slid his cock in and out of her mouth, swirling her tongue around the
underside. She yanked down his jeans and ran her hands over his young ass,
which was already starting to sweat. She could feel his cock throb in her mouth
as she slid her lips up and down his thick shaft. Pete's balls tensed and he
slid out of her hot mouth.

Pete dropped to his knees and Emilie flopped back on the blanket. In an
instant, he had her pants crumpled in the corner and was running his tongue up
the inside of her quivering thigh. She could feel his hard-on pulsing against
her leg and she bit her lip to keep from moaning. Then she remembered where she
was.

"Oooooaaannhhhhh," she let the sound run out of her mouth without resistance.
Pete's tongue plunged deep into her pussy, and her juices flowed hot into his
mouth. His hands clutched her hips and pulled her pussy toward his ravaging
mouth.

"Unggg." Emilie grasped her own tits in her hands, kneading the flesh as Pete's
tongue found her hardened clit.

"AhhhhUNNNNgggg!" Emilie pulled on her long nipples and rolled her head back.
Pete's strong tongue slid over her clit, massaging it deeply with firm, focused
pressure. He ground his cock into her leg and stared up at her nipples, which
Emilie was twisting in her fingers.

Pete could bare it no longer. He dove onto Emilie's twisting body and plunged
his hard, thick cock into her soaking pussy. The passage was tight, and as it
opened to his thrusting member both Emilie and Pete moaned in pleasure. Emilie
could feel her hole filled with the throbbing cock, and her heart leapt in her
chest. As he vigorously worked his rod in and out of her slippery pussy, his
pelvis bone ground into hers. His face was buried in her neck and the boat
rocked with their fucking and the waves of the sea. Emilie felt ever4ything she
had coursing toward the pleasure in her pussy. It was overwhelming.

"I! I!" She was coming, but she couldn't form the words.

"UUUUnnnnnghhHGHGHGHghh!" The muscles in her pussy clenched so hard around
Pete's cock that he pulled his head back in shock. He stared as Emilie's eyes
rolled back in her head and her arms grasped desperately to his thin, sweaty
back.

Pete's nuts pulsed. He slowly drove his cock once more into Emilie's pulsing
hole, and felt his cock erupt into throbbing orgasm. Emilie felt his hot come
bursting into her pussy and another wave of euphoria surged through her. They
clutched each other tightly, until the throbbing slowly relaxed.

Pete collapsed his weight onto Emilie's body and she wrapped her arms around
him. She stared at the bulb hanging from the ceiling above, watching it sway
with the movement of the sea. She smelled the sweat on his shoulders and felt
the lingering twitches inside her.

"Thank you, Pete." She whispered.

The next day, as Emilie was finally doing laundry, she put her hand into the
pocket of her sea-soaked pants. Inside was something small and hard. She pulled
out the ivory pipe from the pocket where Pete must have put it. Hand carved,
like a gray whale. Emilie stood in the basement, just holding it, for a very
long time.

If you liked this story, feel free to email me at nicholas1972@hotmail.com.
Thanks.

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