[ occasional pirate ], [ scribbly fellow ], [ hat devotee ], [ improviser ], [ cat dad ], [ sometimes unhappy in the brain ], [ AFOL ], [ consumer of eye-candy ], [ beer drinker ], [ enraged cyclist ], [ please talk to me about Transformers ], [ very bad at DIY ], [ enthusiastic duct-taper ]
[ occasional pirate ], [ scribbly fellow ], [ hat devotee ], [ improviser ], [ cat dad ], [ sometimes unhappy in the brain ], [ AFOL ], [ consumer of eye-candy ], [ beer drinker ], [ enraged cyclist ], [ please talk to me about Transformers ], [ very bad at DIY ], [ enthusiastic duct-taper ]

An Amourous Pirate – Alphabetic Dialogues 14

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Captain Ignatius Pigheart samples the dubious pleasures of ‘Old Maisy’s Hole’, one of the few hostelries that offer welcome to a man of the sea. Within its dank walls lie the scum of the port; gamblers, thieves, cripples and night ladies sprawl across the stained furniture. Ignatius brings out the old Captain Loveheart routine for the pretty barwench. Not Old Maisy mind. Braver men than he have attempted to plunder her charms and beaten a hasty retreat as lesser men.

‘Bashful lass eh? Come to me lap ye fine chested beauty. Don’t fear a man with just one hand. Eye too. For tis a sign o’ me bravery and manhood. Gaaargh, ye seems not tempted. Have I an unappealin’ scent about me? It be to ye credit that ye be so honest. Just withhold ye further candour for fear o’ harmin’ me pride. Know ye that I’ve wooed many a lass, above and below ye waves. Let me regale ye with such a tale o’ me piscine paramour. Me state were one o’ inebriation. No, not ye same degree as me present. Oh, for ye moon were spinful and ye stars a thicket. Pray, imagine ye the calll of a merwench. Quite the most allurin’ sound to pierce a fishy gill. Readyin’ me lovin’ portions I were, for action. Softly I called to her. Twas an arrow through me heart when she splashed towards me. Under the waves our bodies met, me leg and her tail entwined. Velvet soft was ‘er touch, aye, ye captain shivered in her embrace. Wet too, but tis expected in ye ocean. eXitin’ ye tavern already? Ye’ll be sad to miss out of the climax o’ me tale. Zephyrs o’ sighs spilled out of ye merwench in delight. And ye could be so lucky, if’n ye so choose…’

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