Overboard
- 4 years ago
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Overboard free porn video
Standing by the deck rail in the pre-dawn hour, I gazed at a billion stars, uncontested by the new moon, like a blizzard that would never descend. I thought back to the dream which had awakened me, not so much a dream as a memory, brought to life by sweet slumber. I was back in the arms of my dear Mariah, tasting her wanton kisses on my lips, caressing the swell of her breast. The knowledge that this would be our last night together for many months, perhaps even years had driven us to an almost insatiable pitch of desire. I covered her face and neck with urgent kisses. I sought to devour her, take her whole being inside me, carry her with me across the sea.
I kissed her eyes, her warm, flush cheek, the hollow of her throat. I gathered her breasts in my hands and nestled my face between them, cherishing their softness, their life-giving warmth. I alternately kissed and licked and suckled one insistent nipple, then the other. Mariah gasped with pleasure, her taut stomach quivering, beckoning. I heeded her call, trailing hot kisses down her body, savoring every morsel of her flesh as I made my way to the seat of her desire. Her musky scent welcomed me as I grazed her downy fur with my nose and lips. I blew softly, watching the fine, dark hairs dance and wave and part, offering teasing glimpses of the treasure they barely concealed. I reached out my tongue and nudged the very top of her cleft, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from my lover. Emboldened, I gently probed her tender outer lips, parting them, teasing them, tasting them, coaxing the sensitive nubbin from its hooded sheath. Slowly, almost shyly, her clitoris swelled, venturing timidly from hiding place like a kitten begging to be petted. Lifting it with my tongue, I drew that sensitive button between my lips, sucking it like a teat, painting the tip in broad strokes with my tongue. Mariah shook and moaned, thrashing her head back and forth, the wetness growing between her legs giving further testament to the height of her passion.
With one long final lick up the length of her love, I released her vulva from my oral assault and moved upward, leaving a trail of licks and kisses up her body, between her breasts. At the moment our lips touched, my throbbing cock head came to rest at her opening. Her wetness seemed to draw me in, deeper and deeper, until her dark down nuzzled my coarse, red curls. For long moments we stayed, two bodies joined, two hearts intertwined, two souls existing as one life. We devoured one another’s mouths, lips, tongues with kisses of fire and desperate longing. Without a word we began to move our hips in unison. No pumping or thrusting, we simply ground against one another, unwilling to yield an inch of our union. The muscles of her vagina caressed and claimed my cock, making it as much a part of her body as of mine, drawing it to her irresistible will. I had neither the ability nor the desire to resist.
With a shuddering groan, I poured my love deep into Mariah’s womb, as she received it with a cry of woeful ecstasy. This intense physical, spiritual joy in the face of impending separation overwhelmed me. Hot tears rolled down my face, splashing onto Mariah’s cheek, mingling with her own.
And now, standing on deck beneath the canopy of stars, the tears returned, welling forth from reluctant eyes. Though we had parted many months ago, I could still feel the heart-pounding waves of passion, smell the scent of our lovemaking, mingled with the salt air and…smoke! I smelled smoke! Looking around, I saw a faint orange glow emanating from the window above the galley. Racing aft, I looked through the window, down onto a scene from Dante. The galley was consumed in flames. The fire had eaten through the wooden floor, and was dripping burning embers into the hold below.
At Madagascar, we had taken on a special cargo: seventy barrels of black powder! I ran to the warning bell amidships to sound the alarm, but the first toll from the bell was answered with a deafening explosion. The deck erupted in a riot of smoke and flame, catapulting me thirty feet into the air. Plummeting toward the water, I saw the ship, eviscerated by the blast. I plunged into the warm tropical water head first, sinking several feet before regaining my senses and struggling for the surface. When I broke through, I was greeted with a scene of utter desolation. With its midsection gone, the ship had folded upon itself, bow and stern alike reaching towards the heavens in a pleading gesture which the stars refused to answer. Swirling slowly, the doomed ship disappeared beneath the still waters. The only remnants of this once proud vessel were a rapidly dispersing waft of smoke, a few smoldering splinters of wood, and me. And floating in this desolate stretch of ocean, I had no doubt that I would soon share my ship’s fate.
Suddenly, out of the blackness, I heard a plaintive cry. At first I hoped for a fellow survivor. But the sound came again, from above. Looking up, I saw the first ray of dawn catch on a flutter of alabaster wings. A gull! But how? Our charts showed no landfall for three days! Turning away from the site of the wreck, I say a faint gray shape emerge. An island, and a large one, not a half a league away! Praying that it was not an illusion, I began to swim. In the time it took to cover the distance, the sun had risen, revealing a lush green landscape surrounding the islands volcanic center. As I approached the shore, the swells turned to waves. Exhausted from my ordeal, I was tossed like a rag doll in the crashing surf, until I was eventually deposited, retching and sputtering upon the sandy beach. I crawled beyond the reach of the surf, and collapsed.
After a few minutes rest, I looked around at this land which would likely be my final home. The beach extended for twenty or thirty yards, before giving way to lush, tropical vegetation. The trees were alive with birds of a thousand colors. Peering deep into the thick foliage, I thought I saw something move. Then a sparkle of sunlight glinting off of metal. Then another. I stood and began walking toward the forest. I hadn’t gone a dozen steps when I was stopped cold by the sight of a score of native warriors emerging as one from the trees! Each held a formidable spear, topped with a vicious metal point. Their loins were girded with animal skins, and their olive flesh was decorated with bright war paint that covered their faces and encircled their…. Breasts?!?!?
They were women! Each and every one of them a perfect specimen of female strength and grace. Their lithe, athletic bodies were an alluring contrast to the menace of their approach, not to mention their weapons. Weapons! I reached behind me, and pulled out my pistol. It was loaded, but even if it had survived the swim to shore, there was only one shot in it, and twenty of them. My only hope was intimidation. I raised the gun n both hands above my head and pulled the trigger. Thunder roared as my trusty pistol spewed fire and smoke into the air. The warriors froze. The sight of this six foot man, with pale skin and flaming red hair, who had emerged from the fire on the ocean, and summoned thunder to his will was just too much for them. They dropped their spears as one and fell prostrate before me. I could not understand their native babbling, but it rang of a plea for mercy.
I replaced the gun it its holster, and extended my arms forward, palms out, in a gesture of welcome. The relief on their faces was unmistakable as they backed away into the woods from whence they had come. There was a great deal of shouting and commotion coming from the forest. Soon, an ornate throne, carried by eight dark, naked men appeared through the brush, escorted by the all-girl welcoming committee. The manner and posture of the men indicated complete subservience. They brought the throne before me, and at a command from one of the female warriors, dropped to one knee, heads bowed. I climbed aboard and sat down on the soft fur seat, running my fingers over the many precious stones set in the
arm rests.
At a word from the guard, the bearers rose and carried me smoothly into the woods. We moved quickly down a well-worn path. I admired my escorts who surrounded the carriage. The loincloths I had seen before were simply ornamental swatches, hung from an intricately woven and beaded twine around the waist. I stared at the escorts before me, enchanted by a dozen firm asses undulating with feline agility. Gazing to my sides, I beheld the proud, painted breasts of the guards, swaying gently as they marched astride me with a perfect blend of military precision and a grace born of strength.
The path quickly led to an immense clearing. At the far end was a large hut of wood and lashed bamboo. It was a circular structure, roughly forty feet in diameter and twenty feet high. Fanning out on either side were a succession of smaller huts, about fifty in all, similar in design, which traced the perimeter of the village. The center of the circle was dominated by a large pavilion which housed the well and an open cooking fire. In the pavilion, and around the edges of the village, I saw a number of men, all naked, tending to the daily tasks of existence, cooking, washing, that which in my world was women’s work. The women, in contrast, were all adorned with some manner of clothing, jewelry, or paint, symbols of their higher station, and engaged in conversation or acts of leisure. But as our procession wound its way through the village, all eyes were upon me.
I was carried around the pavilion to the entrance of the large hut. As we approached, the female guards pulled back the enormous tapestries which served as doors, allowing the entire party to pass through. Once inside, the bearers set the vehicle down, assuming the same subservient posture. As soon as I stepped from the chair, they stood and backed out through the doorway, which closed behind them.
The hut appeared even larger from the inside. The lashed bamboo walls were covered with intricately woven tapestries featuring stylized exotic birds frolicking beneath blazing yellow suns. Against the far wall was not so much a bed as a lushly padded playground. Roughly circular, and a full ten feet in diameter, it was covered in feather-soft white llama skins, giving it the appearance of a captured cloud. In the center of the room was large wooden tub, filled with steaming water, scented with colorful flower petals. Standing expectantly around the tub were three beautiful girls. Except for necklaces and waist chains of brilliant glass-like shells, and wreaths of flowers woven into their hair, they were naked. With their small, budding breasts, and only the finest wisps of hair barely bothering to conceal the treasure between their legs, they appeared very young. But every woman I had encountered thus far on this island paradise had exuded such an air of youth and vitality, that guessing at their ages was a fruitless exercise.
The girl behind the tub nodded to the two on either side, and they approached me. Without a word, one began to unbutton my shirt, while the other untied the laces of my boots. I simply stood in dazed amazement as soft deft hands removed my shirt and opened the front of my trousers. With one smooth motion, my pants and undergarment were lowered. The sight of my flaming orange pubes elicited a flutter of giggles from my handmaidens. Their laughter was short lived, however, quickly replaced by astonished stares of wide-eyed wonder. Concerned, I followed their gaze down. Yes, there was still just the one penis, not abnormally huge, though more than large enough, or so I had been told by the few women of my experience. And then it occurred to me, these girls had never before seen a circumcised man. The phalluses they knew were hooded, hidden things. My purple-peaked passion pillar, wearing naught but a cowl-neck, and staring defiantly back at them with his one good eye was a breed apart from the timid tallywhackers of the local gentry. Basking in their unabashed attention, he was rising to his full, prodigious height. Their rapt and admiring attention led me to believe that the local boys didn’t begin to measure up.
With a force of will, the girl before me snapped out of her hypnotic trance, and uttered a command to her accomplices. Cautiously they rose, took me by each arm, and led me toward the inviting tub. All the while, they kept one eye on my swaggering saber, (and he on them), lest it do anything more to surprise them. We all stepped into the fragrant water. As spectral clouds of lilac scented steam trellised upward, my attendants reached into the water and pulled up three large sea sponges. Raising them up above my head, they squeezed, sending torrents down my salt encrusted body. More than dirt was washed from me under their tender care.
As they simultaneously scrubbed my chest and back with the coarse sponges, I felt the trials of the past few hours melt away. I closed my eyes and swayed softly in place as they worked their way slowly down my body, constantly dipping the sponges to bring fresh streams of hot, sweet water cascading down my torso, hips and legs. Down they moved in unison, lingering midway. The rough texture of the sponges contrasted with the kneading of their small, smooth hands as they cleansed my buttocks, stomach and thighs. Fresh water flowed over my cock and balls, as gentle hands stroked and caressed it. My shaft grew ever more rigid under these ministrations. Suddenly, I felt a hot wetness on the head. I looked down and saw that one of the girls had taken my bulbous plum into her mouth. She was swathing my cock head and glans with her tongue, teasing my slit with the tip, as her companion looked on hungrily. The third bather was behind me, bringing up water between my legs in her cupped hand to wash and fondle my heavy balls.
The beauty who was fellating me turned toward her friend. She leaned forward, and their lips met in a hot, opened-mouth kiss, transferring my throbbing member seamlessly from one hungry mouth to the other. The second girl was more voracious in her technique, rhythmically bobbing her head forward, taking more and more of my engorged shaft into her mouth on each stroke, until I could feel the head pressing against the back of her throat. She raised herself up slightly, tilted her head, and in one deft motion swallowed the remaining few inches of my cock. The head of my cock plunged down her hot, tight throat, as her lips came to rest at the base of my shaft, her nose nestled in my copper pubic hair. He tongue did a luxurious dance on the underside of my member, as the muscles in her throat rippled, drawing me to fruition. Her companions had dropped their sponges, and were urgently stroking, licking, and kissing my thighs, ass, balls. The sensations overwhelmed me, and I came in a swooning orgasm. My expert fellatrix never broke her rhythm as my essence flowed into her. I was giddy, light-headed, and would surely have fallen, were it not for the three pairs of hands that supported me. This goddess of pleasure released my manhood slowly, almost reverently. My sublimely satisfied serpent hung spent. No lingering drops of semen fell, he had been sucked dry.
As though nothing had happened, my attendants picked up their sponges and resumed washing my legs and feet. When I was finally cleaner than I had ever been, they rose, and escorted me from the tub. They dried me with soft cloths, then presented me with a beautifully woven robe of deep maroon, flecked with gold. They led me to the enormous bed. I climbed up, and sat, cross-legged in the center. Visions of further sexual exploits with these nubile and exquisitely talented nymphs danced in my head, but were quickly dashed, as they backed respectfully out of the hut. Perhaps I was meant to rest. Yes, rest. It had been a long and remarkably adventurous day. The weariness began to invade my body, drawing me into the velvety cushions. My head was mere inches from the bed when the deafening peal of a gong startled me upright!
The curtains at the entrance to the hut parted, and yet another of tho
se wicker, man-powered chariots entered, flanked by four of the most ornately decorated female guards I had yet seen. The bearers carried the chariot around the tub, and stopped directly in front of the bed. They dropped smoothly to one knee, lowering the vehicle onto its stout feet. The seat of the chariot was surrounded by opaque curtains, through which a lone figure could be dimly seen. Two of the color guards moved to the front, and parted the curtains. Upon a gilded throne sat a woman of incredible beauty. She wore a robe similar to my own, but far more richly embroidered with threads of gold and small precious stones. The limpid pools of her dark eyes sparkled above a silken veil which concealed her face. Hair the color of midnight flowed from beneath a thin gold crown.
Sensing that I was in the presence of royalty, I rose up to kneeling, and lowered my head respectfully, yet without taking my eyes off of the beautiful apparition before me. She rose from her throne and stepped out of the carriage. At once, the bearers rose and, accompanied by the guards, backed out of the hut. The curtain closed behind them. I raised my head and gazed upon this goddess queen. Her robe was fastened only at her waist by a bejeweled pin, affording me full appreciation of the swell of her breasts, as well as tantalizing glimpses of her smooth, shapely legs. I was entranced, not only by her beauty, but by a haunting sense of familiarity. Her eyes, her hair, the subtle lines of her half-concealed body all evoked distant memories. She must have seen the consternation in my face, and in reply, raised her hand to her veil, and drew it aside. My heart ceased to beat, as my eyes beheld what could not be. Mariah!
I longed to speak her name, but dared not, for fear that it would break the spell, and cause her to vanish. She smiled, and stepped toward me. Reaching out, she cradled my face in her hands and whispered, ‘Yes, my love. It’s impossible, but true.’
‘Mariah…’
The word finally escaped ‘But… but how?’ She climbed up onto the bed, and sat before me.
‘Two days after you set sail, I was walking home from the mission, when I was attacked by two men, and knocked unconscious. I awoke in the hold of a ship, already several hours out to sea, with three other young women who had suffered similar fates. We were to be sold as slaves in the far east. As horrible as our future seemed, it paled in comparison to the journey itself.’
Mariah bowed her head slightly, closing her eyes tight, dredging forth a memory she’d hoped would never see the light of day. ‘Once we were safely out to sea, the four of us were brought up on deck.’ she began, ‘Their intent was to break us, destroy our will, make slaves of us. But they were at a disadvantage. They couldn’t damage the ‘merchandise’. They had to be more… creative. Chantel was the first, dragged up onto a crate, stripped naked as the crew cheered. The first mate pushed her to her knees, opened his trousers, and entered her from behind. Another crewman grabbed her by the hair, and forced himself between her lips. I turned away, unable to watch the debasement of this innocent girl. It was then that I spied a young man, barely more than a boy, hiding behind the bulkhead, refusing to partake in the spectacle on deck.
‘When the first two sailors were done with Chantel, they were replaced by two more, and two more, and two more. When they tired of Chantel, they brought up the next girl, and the next. I was the last. I had already been taken twice, when the captain emerged from his cabin. He had been watching from his cabin, making sure his entire crew was satiated before taking his pleasure. As I perched on my hands and knees upon the crate, like an animal on the auction block, the juice of my violators dripping from my sore and swollen vagina, the captain walked slowly around me, inspecting me, and thanking the crew for ‘saving the best for last’.
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