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by Ryan Field
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: From the origin of his name to the ways he spent his free time, Jolly Roger had always been able to fool them all, including the best historians. And though there were indeed rumors about Jolly's favorite way to pass the time, only the strongest and the best men ever knew for sure whether or not those decadent rumors were true. Captain Hargrove was one of those men. On a warm night on an exotic island, Hargrove discovered what all the rumors were about, when Jolly Roger dropped his pants and pulled off his shirt. As Jolly's handsome young crew members stood watching, Hargrove found something he'd needed for a very long time, something the women in his life had never been able to offer. Left with no defenses and no way to turn back, his only choice was to grab Jolly by the back of the head, yank him to the ground, and plunge into the most memorable night of his life, with his fists braced for battle, his chest heaving, and his pants around his ankles.
eBook Publisher: loveyoudivine, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: March 2011
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [35 KB]
Reading time: 18-26 min.
Though everyone called him Jolly Roger, few truly knew the facts about this title. It wasn't a real name; he'd been christened Roger Julian. Even the well-informed, ever-so-accurate historian types who thought they knew everything didn't know the truth.
Some assumed it referred to his appearance, which wasn't typical of a pirate. Medium height and naturally slender; he was a rare assortment of tawny complexion, blue eyes, and light blond hair. Golden clumps fell to his waist; a thick mane of waves that should have been tied back but often covered half of his face as if he were hiding behind a silk curtain. His legs were slightly bowed, accentuated by black, knee-high boots with four-inch Cuban heels. Though his features were strong and keen and his manner as manly as other pirate peers, he never wore anything but white tights and a loose white shirt that stopped at the top of his thighs.
There wasn't a pegged leg and a black patch over his eye, nor was there a parrot on his shoulder, just a wide, sinister grin and one bright-gold tooth. Flying high above his wooden ship was a vivid red flag with a pure white symbol of a heavy sword. At least that's what the long thing resembled at first glance, but when you looked closer, it could have been mistaken for a large, curved phallus.
Most men (especially killer pirates) would have overcompensated if they'd had Jolly Roger's fair hair. They would have worn dark clothes and hidden the blond waves with a large hat. They would have taken on a forced expression of a real killer, bragged and boasted about how many women they'd raped and how many ships they'd pillaged. Though he moved with the grace of an elk and it was impossible to find so much as a dark smudge on his white tights, sailors rumored throughout the high seas that he had the dark soul of a jackal and the ability conjure devilish cruelties beyond the imagination. Other sailors had come to fear him, but this was only rumor; his one true vice had to do with horny, drunken men...rough, tattooed sailors to be exact. So this title, Jolly Roger, was nothing more than a joke. That he'd laugh and dance while he ripped your eyes out of their sockets and then ate them for dinner, or so they said, amused Jolly Roger a great deal.
But the truth to his title was much more undemanding than this. When Jolly wasn't pillaging and adding to his vast fortune, he was jumping into bed with any guy who caught his attention. Though in those days, it wasn't openly discussed, it was said that to have had a blowjob from Jolly Roger was to have seen the gates of heaven. He somehow knew how to do things to men, of a sexual nature, that were extremely unique.
It was the crew of a British merchant ship that had actually dubbed him Jolly Roger, just after twenty or thirty drunken crewmembers screwed his brains out. They banged and pounded and plundered his ass from one end of the ship's deck to the other and he kept screaming for more. Back then, the English had commonly named their stud bulls "Roger," and Roger became a generic slang for sexual intercourse, always of a rough and tumble nature. The sailors in dark pubs often joked that you wouldn't want to leave Jolly Roger alone with your prized stud bull.