Pirated Booty | 2016

I'm sure that the statute of limitations is up by now, and besides, who knows what jurisdiction this took place in--it was on a cruise ship, somewhere in the Caribbean, most likely, international waters. So finally, I feel it is safe to confess, and unburden myself of the guilt I've been feeling for so long.

Anywayyyyyy, here's the thing: I forced a woman to have sex on a cruise ship. "Cruise ship rape", I think they call it. We'd just met, at the ship's Chinatown themed disco, late that night, though I'd seen her on deck earlier that day sunbathing in a very hott red bikini. Bright red.

She was also looking quite hot at the disco, even in just jeans, and a T-shirt. We danced a fast song, then a slow one. And just like that, the bar was closed. They hadn't even offered us last call. Maybe they thought we were already too drunk. But she mentioned she had a bottle of whiskey back in her cabin that she'd smuggled aboard, and that she had the cabin to herself, since her roommate had hooked up with some guy earlier in the cruise, and was shacking up with him.

In her cabin, we mixed a couple of pretty strong whiskey and waters, and between sips started making out.

I was feeling her up, and she was putting up some mild resistance, but eventually it turned into a little wrestling match, to determine whether she could keep her clothes on or not.

She lost.

First her T-shirt, then her shoes and pants. Then her bra. And finally, her panties. She fought hardest of all to keep those on. Eventually, they got ripped.

Now just so we're clear, we were both having fun at this point. She didn't say "NO" or "STOP" or anything like that. Instead, she was saying things like "you wouldn't dare", and "don't make me have to open a can of whoop-ass on you."

The moment her torn panties hit the floor, I began to demonstrate my patented "mouth-to-pussy resuscitation" technique. And she CERTAINLY didn't object to that! In fact, she came. Quick and easy. And hard.

As her orgasm faded, I took the opportunity to lower my own pants and underwear. In an instant, I was atop her, my throbbingly hard dick poised at her drenched entrance.

"STOP!" she now said. "I'm not going 'all the way'." I asked if she was serious. She explained that she had a boyfriend back home, and didn't want to cheat on him.

"Will you suck me instead then?" I asked. She informed me that she doesn't do that. "Just let me put it in a little way, and if you don't like it, I'll stop."

"NO!" she said.

"Please?" I begged.

By now, it was getting difficult to hover over her in a push-up position, and what with the movement of the boat and all, I may have moved inside of her the slightest fraction of an inch.

"FINE" she said. "You're going to do what you want anyway, so just go ahead and do it, OK?" And so, of course, I did. All the way. She gasped, as if surprised. Don’t know why. To me, her consent was pretty clear.

"FINE" she said again. "I hope you enjoy it, because as soon as we're done, I'm going straight to the Captain, and have you charged with RAPE!"

"Are you serious?" I asked. She assured me she was. "So you want me to stop right now, and leave?" 

"I don't care. I'm reporting you either way." She probably realized instantly that this was a stupid thing to say if she wanted me to stop. So she added "And by the way, I'm not on any birth control, so if you get me pregnant, you can look forward to paying 18 years of child support once you get out of prison."

What a bitch!

Now, I don't know about going to prison. I mean, it was definitely a he-said/she-said, drunken situation, and a hundred people had seen us dancing at the disco, and leaving together. And the smuggled-on whiskey was hers, so if anything, she had plied me with alcohol. AND if we were in international waters, to boot, who's gonna prosecute?

I figured that the worst that would happen, even in the case of a real rape, would be a stern talkin' to from the head of ship's security, and maybe a quick interview with the cops, back in Florida.

But the child support, THAT could be a problem. And suddenly, I knew the solution: I'd always wanted to dew a chick in the ass. I'd brought it up with previous girlfriends, but none of them would let me. I'd even read up on it, and knew just how to do it!

I knew that it had to be with a loving partner, that you'd known for a long time, so that there was a lot of mutual trust and understanding involved. I knew that you had to use plenty of lube. "Too much is barely enough" was what one article had said. I knew that the woman had to be completely relaxed. Perhaps right after a long bubble bath, and a full body massage with warm oil. Candlelight, incense, and soft music. And most of all, I knew that the guy had to go super slow, pausing with each fraction of an inch, making absolutely certain that his lover's pain did not increase as the penetration became deeper.

And I knew that all of this was especially true because of the fact that my penis is, well, let's just say larger than average.

BUT, I also knew that the bitch beneath me, who didn't even freakin' know me, was about to try to ruin my life with a false rape accusations.

So.

I pulled out, kneeled over her, flipped her onto her stomach, spread the cheeks of her gorgeous ass--revealing a hole between those cheeks that was so small it was barely visible to the naked eye--and....

...with a single thrust....

....SHOVED MY WHOLE COCK ALL THE WAY UP HER ASS!

I dropped my weight onto her back, knocking the wind out of her a little. When she was finally able to, she drew a deep breath, and opened her mouth. I think she was going to scream, but I didn't want to hear it. I didn't even want to hear her say "NO" or "STOP" again. I was tired of her making me feel like a rapist. So my hand tightly covered her mouth.

I pulled back, too far, and it came all the way out. And now, she'd clenched in an effort to keep me out. I used the hand not silencing her to reach between us and guide myself back in. "Clench all you want, Bitch, it's still going back in."

She was trying to say something in response, I'm guessing "NO", because she was also trying to move her head "NO". This time, it went in just a little at a time, even though I kept ramming forward with all my might. By the time I hilted myself again, both of our faces were drenched with sweat, and hers was also wet with tears.

Realizing she'd failed to keep me out, she relaxed, letting me move more freely in and out of her butt. She'd been trying to pry my hand from her mouth, but now stopped. A minute later, she tapped my hand with hers, in what I understood, correctly, to be the unspoken signal for "I won't scream". So I took my hand away.

"It hurts, bad" she said.

"Good."

"Will you stop if I ask you to?"

"No."

"So you're really raping me, then?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God. I can't believe it."

"Well, you were going to accuse me of rape, whether I did or not. So I figured, 'hung for a penny, hung for a pound."

"What does that mean?" 

"Well, I guess it means, if you're going to risk being punished for shoplifting, you might as well steal something big. Something worth it."

This conversation was kind of surreal, for both of us, I think. Because even while we were talking to each other, I was continuously sawing in and out of her ass.

I looked over at the clock, it was 1:15. I decided I would fuck her until 1:55. I could wipe off and hurry back 

to my cabin in time to order a few beers for last call from room service. And drink them while waiting for security to figure out who and where I was.

Plus, I figured 40 minutes would probably seem like eternity to her. Her weenie of a boyfriend probably popped off in the average 6 or 8 minutes. But I have good staying power, when I want to. Yes, a 40 minute buttfuck would probably be enough to keep her sore for the rest of the cruise.

So I figured I might as well get comfortable. We were kind of off to the side of the bed, and so I rolled toward the center, pulling her with me. We were both on our sides. I rolled again, pulling her atop me. "What are you doing? She demanded.

"Whatever I want."

"You can't rape someone from underneath!" she proclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because they can just get up and walk away."

"Show me." She tried to sit up, and I let her, but then pulled her right back down with the slightest tug on her hair. She tried to roll, first to one side, then the other, but one arm around her waist prevented her from getting very far in either direction. She managed to get her feet flat, and lift upward, ALMOST off my cock. I pulled her back down by the hips. This happened 3 times before she realized that she was, well, fucking me. Finally, she just relaxed back onto me.

Now I was fucking her with just an easy pivoting of my hips. And my hands, free to roam all over her body, landed on her tits. "I can't believe this" she said, for the second time.

“Still hurt?” I asked, and there might have been just a hint of compassion in my voice. I am, after all, actually a nice guy. And it’s not easy going from nice guy to mad rapist in such a brief span of time.

“A little, but not too bad. Are you going to cum in me there?”

“That’s my plan, yes.” Turning my head to the side, I could see the reflection of her body in the mirror. It truly was gorgeous, and I told her so. She turned her head, too, and her eyes met mine in the mirror.

“Thank you.” she said, without sarcasm. “Can I tell you a secret?” I nodded. “I wasn’t really going to report you.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t really want to be reported.”

“No, I mean I WASN’T going to report you. I am now. I mean, come on! You raped me in the ass! You’re still raping me in the ass!”

“I know. But I feel bad about it.”

“Yeah, I can tell” she almost laughed, obviously referring to the fact that I must not feel too bad, cuz I wasn’t stopping.

“So what do you think they’ll do to me? Put me under house arrest, in my cabin? Or do you think they have a little jail cell somewhere on board?”

“I think they’ll make you walk the plank” She said, trying not to smile. But she saw that I saw she was fighting not to laugh, and we both laughed. “Can I tell you another secret?” I nodded. “I’ve never been fucked up the ass before.”

“Boyfriend guy back home doesn’t do that, huh?”

“Well, he WANTS to, but I tell him ‘no’. And you know what MOST GUYS do when you tell them ‘no’?” 

“Yes, I know, I’m a big mean rapist.”

“You ARE! It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny. I mean, here I am, fucking you up the ass. From beneath you, with you on top. And we’re chatting about it like a casual conversation we might have at the all-night pizzeria. It just doesn’t feel like rape, and I sure don’t feel like a rapist. As a girl, you must have thought about rape before. Is this how you thought it would be?”

“No. To be honest, I thought it would be outdoors somewhere. And the rapist would be a stranger, in a ski mask. And he’d have a gun or a knife. And I’d spend the whole time wondering if he was going to kill me afterward.”

“Well see? This is much nicer than that, isn’t it?”

“I guess so. Though I’m kind of disappointed in myself to find that a guy can just overpower me, and doesn’t even need a weapon to rape me.”

“But at least you know I’m not going to kill you, right?”

“I don’t know that. You might strangle me when you’re done, to keep me from reporting you.”

“Do I seem like the type of guy who would do that?”

“No, but you don’t seem like the type of guy who would do THIS, either!”

“Would it make you feel better if I gave you my word I won’t kill you?”

“You expect me to just take the word of someone who’s raping me? Forgive me, but I think being a rapist calls your integrity into question.”

She did have a point there, I guess. My strokes into and out of her tight asshole had continued at a steady pace throughout this entire conversation. “Is there anything I can say that would make you believe I’m not going to hurt you?”

“Nothing comes to mind, no.”

“How about if I swear on the soul of my father, Ted Bundy?”

“See, you think you’re funny, but you’re not. This is serious.”

“C’mon, that was hilarious! But if you want to get serious, fine. You’re getting a little heavy. OK if we change positions again? Do you think doggy style is a good position for anal rape?”

“Did you REALLY just call me fat? I’m beginning to understand why you have to resort to rape to get laid.”

As I began to roll her off of me, she again lunged to get away, this time, catching me off guard. My surprised cock was suddenly exposed to the relatively cool, room temperature air, and she made it all the way to the cabin door, determined to actually run out into the corridor naked—probably screaming “RAPE” at the top of her lungs--before I caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist, prying her fingers from the doorknob.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” she wailed, as I flung her back onto the bed, facedown, mounting her again from behind. My hand pressed tightly over her mouth again, as I rammed my cock as violently as I could back into her traumatized asshole. As punishment for her escape attempt, for the next minute or two I assraped her with all the brutality I could muster. She was screaming her head off now, into my hand, and again, I began to feel bad for what I was doing. So I returned to a slow, gentle pace, and both of our breathing returned to normal. Her screaming had stopped now, and she once again tapped my hand. “You’ve got to stop. I can’t take this anymore.” I looked at the clock. There was still 15 minutes of ass rape left for her, and I told her so.

“Just another 15 minutes, then I’ll be done.” It must have seemed like an odd, arbitrary time frame to her, but she didn’t question it. Of course, I hadn’t really given her any choice.

“OK, but can you please just continue to be gentle?” I was glad my gentleness hadn’t gone unnoticed, and answered her with a “maybe”. After all, I knew from experience that when it came time to unload, I had a tendency to behave with utter disregard for my partner’s wellbeing. More than a few women had given me one—and no more than one—blow job.

I explained to her that I was planning to be done raping her and back to my cabin in time for last call from room service. She stared at the clock, while I continued to plunder her ass. “I don’t think I can take it that much longer. It hurts. I’m sore. I feel sick.”

“Well” I suggested, “Maybe we can make a deal. I’ll cum as quickly as I can, if you promise not to report me.”

She didn’t even take a moment to consider that. “No deal. There is no way you can keep me from reporting this.”

Hung for a penny, hung for a pound. “Fuck last call then. Maybe I’ll just keep fucking your ass all night, until the bars re-open tomorrow morning!”

“What? That’s crazy. Nobody can fuck all night!”

“You willing to bet your ass on that, sweetheart?” I dared.

Suddenly, she started to buck her hips. At first, I thought she was trying to escape again, but that definitely wasn’t going to happen with all my weight on her. But she was also clenching and unclenching her ass, and rotating her hips. She was trying to make me cum! I quit thrusting, and just enjoyed the ride. Fortunately, I have great stamina, so her wicked plan didn’t work, and eventually, she tired herself out, and once again relaxed. Then I got back to work, the hard work of anal rape.

The time for last call came and went, with my cock still pumping in and out of her bowels. “So, are you really going to keep raping my ass all night?”

“That’s my plan, unless we can come to some sort of an agreement.”

“OK, so if I agree not to report you, you’ll make it be over soon?” The movement of her left hand, above her head, caught my eye. She was actually crossing her fingers. How cute! “Yes”, I nodded.

“OK, OK, fine, I won’t report you. Please hurry and end this?”

I began thrusting faster, harder, finally burying myself as deep as I could in her colon. “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” I jerked and spasmed several times, then collapsed my dead-weight onto her back. “So. You’re not going to report me, right?”

“Yeah, RIGHT! I’m gonna report you the minute you get off of me! SUCKER!” She was waving her left hand around, as much as her position would permit, to show me her crossed fingers.

“Well, I guess we don’t have a deal then!” I informed her, as I began pulling my cock out. And then, to her surprise, I shoved it back in. And began fucking her again.

“What are you doing? How can you get it up again so soon after you came?”

“I didn’t cum.” “You didn’t?” “No, I faked it.” “What? What man fakes an orgasm?”

“I was testing you. Besides, what kind of grown up crosses their fingers to get out of keeping a promise? Now, I AM going to fuck your ass until daybreak, maybe even until noon. Hung for a penny, hung for a pound. And now, there’s nothing you can say to get me to stop.” As if resigned to her fate, she managed to reach and retrieve a pillow that had fallen on the floor, and positioned it under her face, with her arms folded on it too, over her head. And she sighed, and relaxed completely, as if this were nothing more than a massage. Which, in a way, it was.

An hour later, my cock was still sawing in and out of her rump. If she’d though her ass was sore before, well, now it was sore AND dry. She began to wince each time my shaft changed direction. Truth be told, my dick was getting a little bit raw too. And numb. There would be no 10 hour buttfuck-a-thon. If she had intended to “bet her ass”, I now knew that her ass held the winning hand. But maybe I could still get her to fold.

“How about if I agree to buy your drinks for the rest of the cruise? Can’t do that if I’m in the brig.”

“So now I’m a whore? Trading my ass for the price of a bar tab? Fuck you. Keep fucking.”

“OK, how about if I’m nice to you, for the whole rest of the cruise, AND, I give you a ‘no more assrape’ guarantee?” She smiled, but shook her head “no”. Keep fucking.

“I think we need some lube, then. Do you have any lotion or Vaseline in this cabin?”

“No, but there’s a few dollars in my purse. Why don’t you run to the gift shop, and buy some?” Again, a smirk, that told me she knew she was winning. But I still had one more devious Hail Mary play up my sleeve: What if I could make her cum again?

I pulled out, rolled her onto her back, and once again liplocked with her pussy. “What are you DOING? Rapists don’t do THAT!”

“Yeah, well, this rapist is on a break. A lunch break.” I licked, and she responded, surprisingly fast. This time, my fingers began transporting her leaking pussy juice directly to the puffy, swollen circle of her anus. She must have known that I intended to go back to buttfucking her soon, and this must have bothered her, but it didn’t stop her from building to a climax. And just as her cunt was throbbing on the very brink of Ecstasy, I crawled up her body, my shoulders pushing her legs forward until she was folded in half, and my cock, still hard, plunged right into her juiced asshole without even having to be aimed. Her boobs filled my hands, and after wiping my mouth on the pillow case, I kissed her hard--and she kissed back.

Now, my thrusts into her bunghole also served to grind my pubic bone against her clit--and it was grinding back. It barely took a minute for her to cum, and when she did, I swear her asshole began to suck my cock!

FINALLY, I came too. And when I did, it was like her orgasm started over, and became wildly more intense. “JESUS!” she gasped, into my open mouth.

Once my balls had drained themselves into her, my cock began to soften, and popped out on its own, without having to be pulled out. My hands relaxed on her titties, and I had no doubt that the indentations made by my fingers would be black-and-blue tomorrow. Our breathing was in synch, and slowly returning to normal. I raised myself up, and looked into her eyes. They were a bit glazed over, but when she realized she was being stared at, they focused. They were intense, and filled with emotion. Intense emotion. Could it be, that in the last few minutes, during this intense bonding experience, she had fallen in…

“Planning on getting off of me anytime soon, Dickweed?” spat her interruption of my thoughts. And so I did.

She gathered her clothes, and went into the bathroom, locking the door, while I stood at the cabin door, pulling up my underwear and pants, which were still tangled somewhere between my knees and my ankles. It was a wonder I’d won our little footrace earlier. Evidently, my adrenaline was stronger than hers.

“So” I asked her through the bathroom door. “Still gonna report me?”

“I haven’t decided.” Well! This was progress.

“I only ask because, well, you did cum, right? I mean, that was an orgasm you had there, right? I mean, I’m not saying it was the best orgasm you’d ever had in your whole entire life or anything, but, well, it did seem pretty intense. Like maybe it was the kind of orgasm that your weenie of a boyfriend has never managed to give you. The kind of once-in-a-lifetime Ecstasy that you may never experience again, even if you live to be like, 112. So I was just wondering…”

Suddenly, she opened the door, still not fully dressed, and stepped right up to me. Frankly, invading my space a little bit. “WHAT, does my orgasm have to do with anything? Do you think it means that I like you now, or something?”

“Oh no, I’m not saying that.” I backed away a step, my eyes checking her hands for objects blunt or sharp. “It’s just that when they do the whole ‘rape exam’ thingy on you, in addition to finding, let’s face it, a HUGE buttload of semen, they’ll probably have to ask you, ‘why is there such mass quantities of your vaginal fluid all mixed in with it?’”

She was so cute, when trying so hard not to laugh, or even crack a smile. “Get out.” She ordered.

“OK if I take a glass of that whisky with me? I could really use another drink, and as you are aware, you did make me miss last call…”

She walked over to it, and without putting the cap on it, threw it, either to me or at me. Hard to tell. She threw like a girl. But in any case, I reached up and caught it just inches before it hit my face. I decided it was a good time to take my leave. I heard the door lock behind me.

The next morning the bottle was empty and my head was achy. But the sun streaming in my porthole told me I was waking up in my own cabin, and not some brig in the bowels of the ship. And gawd was I hungry. She was filling her plate at one of the breakfast buffet bars, so I sidled up behind her. “Good Morning, Lover!” I whispered to her.

“Hello, Rapist.” She answered back, loud enough for the others in line to hear, as well as a couple of servers stocking the bar from the other side. Everyone stopped and looked at me.

“She’s kidding!” I said. “She’s such a kidder!” When our plates were full, I followed her to a table for two, which thankfully, was out of anyone’s immediate earshot.

“So, you didn’t report me, then?” “Didn’t report you YET.” She corrected. “So when are you planning on reporting me?” “Maybe on the last day. When I’m paying my bar tab. Unless some gentlemanly rapist pays it for me.”

“That’s the same deal I offered you, isn’t it? Didn’t you say that would make you a whore?”

“It’s NOT the same deal. It’s a totally different deal.” “How is it different?”

She sighed a sigh that asked if I was really the stupidest person on the whole boat. “If you offer me drinks, in exchange for sex, and I accept, then I’m a whore. On the other hand, if you rape me, and I use that rape to blackmail you into buying my drinks, then it doesn’t make me a whore. It makes you a bitch. My bitch. Understand?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“In fact, if there was a way to get you in a room alone, with me naked, without risking getting assraped again, I’d be forcing you to eat my pussy, after every meal, between now and when we disembark.”

“Well, how about if I give you my famous ‘no more assrape guarantee’?”

“Won’t work.” “Why not? “Because this is a glass table. And I can see you’ve got your fingers crossed.”

I never saw her again. But on the last day, her 4-day bar bill was stapled to mine when it was slid under my cabin door. And to this day, my night spent with her remains the most expensive first date of my life.

I don’t know if she ever thinks of me, but I know I’ll always remember her. Fondly.

And if she ever reads this, I hope she can put aside any lingering hard feelings, and send me an E-mail.

(With picture attached, so I’ll know it’s really her. Or, if she can’t bring herself to do that, the name of the ship in the subject line would also work.)