CHAPTER FOUR
Hank sat up abruptly, sputtering and brushing the sand from his face. He began to let loose a long string of obscenities until several voices from seemingly nowhere yelled at him to watch his language. He stopped, opened his eyes, and realized he had been daydreaming. The beach around him was filling up with people.
He thought about his dream and looked to see if he could see the dark-haired beauty who had set it off, but the girl in the bright yellow bikini was nowhere in sight, or more accurately, was obscured from view — if she were still there further down the beach.
Hank mused a while over the dream. "You see," he told himself smugly. "That was one helluva fuck, and she didn't care whether or not I had two cars or a unicycle! All that matters is the meat, boy. Just the meat." He surveyed the beach and the jumble of people. Here and there was an outstanding body, curvy and richly tanned.
"One of those babes will appreciate my, uhhh, manhood," Hank confirmed to himself. "Before this day is over, one of them will come right up to me and ask for it, straight out!" At that point a pair of shapely legs crossed in front of his vision, attached to a lush pair of hips that swayed like the oak beam of a ship.
They belonged to a buxom, beautifully built redhead in a white, one-piece bathing suit. She was some dish, with a build that just wouldn't quit! What a lay she'd be, Hank whistled softly to himself.
"She looks like the kind of dish that would appreciate a real man!" Hank said, with himself in mind. And he watched her sway down the beach until she disappeared from view, obscured by a crowd of people.
Hank sat up for a while looking at the sky and clouds. A sea gull squawked and swooped low over the water, catching Hank's attention. He watched it for a moment. He studied it for a short while and then shifted his gaze to a beautiful sailing sloop that was gliding in over the horizon. He loved boats. He was fascinated to watch this one glide effortlessly through the water, its sails billowing in the breeze.
Hank lay back on his towel and imagined what it would be like to be on a ship at that moment, standing boldly on the deck the breeze ruffling over his body and bringing the tang of salt air to his nostrils.
"The captain of a ship," he thought, savoring the idea, turning it over in his mind. "No, a pirate captain sailing the seven seas. Rape and pillage. Taking captives. Doing battle. Holding beautiful women hostage…"
"Ship ho!" came the cry from the crow's nest. The motley pirate crew ran to the starboard side, straining their eyes to catch sight of the vessel.
"What flag is she flying?" boomed Long Cock Fisher, captain of the pirate vessel. "British, sir," came the reply from high in the rigging. "And she looks fat with plunder, riding low and slow!"
"Her guns?" Captain Long Cock demanded.
"Few and light," was the reply.
"Prepare for attack! Set the sails full. Run her down!" ordered the captain.
Long Cock stood proudly, defiantly on the bridge. Legs astraddle, his hands on his hips, he proudly watched his men scrambling on the deck below him, securing their weapons. They rolled out the cannons, piled up the steel shot, broke out the kegs of powder and primed the fuses. They were a vicious bunch of cutthroats scarred and battle hardened. Each carried a full compliment of guns, knives, hooks and anything else they felt would help kill and maim the enemy.
As for the captain, he cut a handsome figure, standing there on the wooden bridge. His white shirt, open to the waist, revealed his hairy tanned and well rounded chest. The full sleeves of his shirt rippled in the salt breeze as the ship gained momentum under full sail.
At his waist was a crimson sash and a leather scabbard. The scabbard held his razor-sharp sword, a sword that was feared around the world. His legs were encased in black leather boots into which his black pantaloons were neatly tucked.
The name Long Cock Fisher was feared and respected on the seven seas by the men who sailed them. And, his cock was feared and respected on every continent by the women who were lucky enough to fall under it. He was a man to be reckoned with on every level and at every turn.
His loyal crew of cutthroats would defend him and the ship to the very death. He gave them battle. He provided them with the means of their wealth through plunder, and his mighty reputation kept them in women when they were in port. What more could lusty, brawling men want?
Under full sail, the pirate ship closed the gap between itself and its quarry. When it came within hailing distance, Captain Long Cock Fisher ordered the awesome pirate flag to be hoisted.
The British galleon seemed to hang motionless in the water as if it momentarily held its breath under the shock of this bad news. Then suddenly the ship came alive and Long Cock could see the sailors scurrying to their pitiful little gun mounts.
Before long the battle was on. Guns blazed from both ships, firing volley after volley of shot across each other's bows. But the British ship's sailors were no match for the pirates with their artillery and cunning. They were battle-hardened men who made each shot pay.
Almost before the British knew what had happened, the pirate ship's grappling hook had landed on its deck, and the boarding nets soon followed.
It was a short, bloody battle. The smoke filled air carried the sounds of the screaming voices of the maimed and dying. Long Cock directed the battle from the captain's deck. His face was flushed with excitement, his body keyed to the thrill of battle!
Then, all was quiet. The battle was over. The British ship was his!
His joyous men greedily ransacked the ships carting booty back, squabbling over the division of goods. Long Cock's first mate, a lean, strong, lascivious Arab, marched a bevy of women across the boarding planks to the captain's bridge and lined them up for his inspection.
For the most part they were an ordinary lot, plump young girls, skinny old women. All cowering, clinging to each other, sobbing and quaking with fear. All of them, that is, except one. She stood staunchly upright, shushing two women at her side with comforting sounds, but all the while looking at Long Cock with hatred and defiance.
Long Cock grunted to his first mate, Ahab. Without hesitation, Ahab walked over to the girl, and with a leer he wrenched her loose from her companions. Grabbing her by the arm, and with his other hand in the small of her back, he shoved her violently toward Long Cock. It was such a violent shove that the girl stumbled and fell at the feet of the captain.
Long Cock smiled. As she raised herself to her knees, he could look down into the front of her dress where two enormous rounded orbs seemed to be struggling to bounce out of the confines of her bodice.
"Take her to my cabin," Long Cock said curtly. "Take your pick, and then turn the rest over to the men after they have finished with the ship."
His first mate leered again, and obeyed the orders. After Long Cock Fisher had assured himself that things were proceeding as usual with his men, who were systematically strip ping the British vessel of its valuables, he left the bridge and headed for his cabin.
A smile played over his lips as he envisioned the pleasure that awaited him with the girl below. She had spirit. He liked women with spirit. And the excitement and thrill of battle always left him with an animal-like sexual hunger. He knew she would satisfy it to the fullest!
He entered the cabin and noted to his satisfaction that his first mate had secured the girl to one of the upright supporting posts, her hands securely tied behind it.
Wordlessly, he walked over to his enormous wooden desk, unbuckled his wide sword belt and carefully placed it and the sword on the desk. He poured himself a large wine glass fun of vintage wine taken as booty from a Spanish galleon, walked around to the front of the desk and hunkered down on it with the grace of a leopard.