Parlait

“Captain, please,” Elizabeth gasped before Barbossa could crouch completely down. This was something inherently Jack’s. She’d never imagined such a thing until Jack had taught it to her, and then he’d managed to addict her to it. She just couldn’t imagine another man’s tongue between her legs; she’d always feel Jack.

What could possibly be her objection Barbossa wondered as he straightened again. He’d not tasted a woman thusly in some time, as this was such an unsavory prospect when it came to whores. But Elizabeth, oh, he’d devour her! He knew she wanted him, the scent of her need for a man was all he noticed about the air, and he’d felt her moving against his spent cock when they embraced. He worked his hand between her legs, tickling her inner thighs, making her gasp and arch her back as he pushed his hand further towards the moist heat of her slit. “I take what I want, Elizabeth,” he cupped her chin and turned her face to his, kissing her softly. “Y’know that by now.”

“But,” the tip of his finger brushed her coarse brown tresses and she felt her body bow towards his touch, but his hand pulled away teasingly. Not fair, but then, his finger stroking through her feminine heat may have been too persuasive. How could she even tell him that she’d be thinking of Jack the whole time if he were to put his mouth on her in such a way? It certainly wouldn’t stop him, and it likely wouldn’t encourage him to be very accommodating either. And still, her curiosity could not be contained; she was already well aware of how capably Captain Hector Barbossa had mastered the art of the kiss; such deft lips and tongue. In part she wanted this from him, and that part was growing in majority. “It’s just that, I…” she was fixated now on his mustache, beard…both were longer than Jack’s, coarser too…they’d probably tickle her like blazes as he lapped at her. Her mind may not have entirely given in, but her body did, a warm gush of slipperiness dampening her inner thighs as her clitoris drew up at attention, awaiting the inspection of his roaming tongue. “I tend to get out of control.”

Barbossa gathered his strong arms around her and flexed them, pulling her close, putting the bulge of biceps in contact with her shoulders, making sure she could feel how solid and big they were against her frame. “Methinks I can keep a’hold of ye, Miss.” He smiled at her, stroking her spine with his fingertips lightly, making her shiver and lean back into his feathery touch. He watched her eyes drift closed, felt her thighs part even more. “I’ve put y’on my table to be eaten,” he leaned over her as she began to recline and kissed her exposed throat, moving down to her chest, kissing, licking and biting her, sucking the smooth skin between her breasts hard enough to bring about a red mark. Elizabeth moaned, completely limp in his arms now. “So is it to be, Elizabeth? Or are y’ to let a man starve?”

He would starve? The reason for why men so enjoyed putting their mouths on a woman Elizabeth’s female brain couldn’t quite comprehend. She only knew that she loved that they so wished to, and to hear Barbossa using such a desperate word as ‘starve’ only made her feel more delectable. His hand was back against her inner thigh, traveling upwards, almost to the place she needed most to be touched, and then pulling away, again and again, like some teasing wave that never broke to shore. How could she refuse him her nectars, and deny herself his hunger? She leaned back, supporting herself with her hands behind her. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Her eyes drifted closed again, legs spreading around him, toes pointed elegantly; she gave in so beautifully. “Have I yet?” Barbossa asked her, his voice low with his desire to taste her and this time he let his finger trail all the way to the very bend of her thigh and then charted the territory between the lips of her labia. Elizabeth jerked, her nails digging into the wood of the table as she hissed her demand for more. Perhaps she was telling the truth, she did become out of hand? He felt a little flinch in his cock at the thought of having to hold her down as he sought about ravishing her pretty little slit.

His finger was as wet and warm as if he’d dipped it into bath water, she wanted this so very much. Still, Barbossa stood straight, enjoying the feel of her, tracing her outer and inner labia slowly, rubbing his finger gently over every structure of her vulva, learning her; what made her gasp and moan the most, where did she most need to be touched? The feel of her was luxuriant, soft and fleshy, silky and full, like the bloom of a rose after the rain. He hadn’t handled a woman in so long and was not surprised to hear himself gasping along with her as they both enjoyed what they felt. Elizabeth’s breathing quickened and she moaned more and more, beginning to rock her hips against his hand, faster and faster. Barbossa smiled at her haste for satisfaction, but pulled his hand away, instead halting her movements by holding her tight against him. “Not yet, lass,” he breathed passed her ear, kissing her temple softly. “When I say.”

“Then say so!” Elizabeth heard herself beg, her own body holding her to its demands, no matter the cost. She was so nearly there, his finger so wonderfully coaxing a fantastic tension to build within her groin and swell her clitoris out of its hood. If he was going to go at her like a famished tar of the sea, he’d best do it soon!

“Endure!” Barbossa growled, and considered giving her clitoris a rough pinch for her outburst, something harsh and unexpected to freeze her body in the state it was currently in, but he relented. He’d brought her to this point on purpose, for a woman was at her ripest and sweetest at such a cusp as this. It had been so long since he’d indulged on such a delicacy, and he wanted all of her lovely assets at the ready, and at their best.

Elizabeth slumped backwards as he let go of her to kneel down, her back bowing inwards, feeling herself drip onto her thighs and the table. She’d never been so anxious for Jack to lick her, but all of her cried out that she would die if Barbossa didn’t choose some part of her sex to gorge himself upon. There was pressure and strain, something spring loaded and begging for launch within her body. Every pink fold of her vulva was ruffled and plump with her desire, ready to kiss his lips as his mouth claimed them. She fought the urge to beg, swallowed the words “Please, Captain, oh please!” as they formed on her parted lips.

He was now eye level with the sacred flower between her legs, its petals spread out wide for him to see. The cleft of her femininity was petite like the rest of her features, it wouldn’t be difficult to use his whole mouth on her and suck at every last blushing pink crease. Despite his own desire to worry the most tender morsels of her between his lips, Barbossa chose to kiss the skin of her thigh, gently bite, feeling her tense and twist around him as he nuzzled his beard against her white skin. He could feel her heat so close, as if it reached out to grab him and draw him closer to where she needed him. Wet anticipation seeped from her vaginal opening, making his tongue involuntarily flex as if to catch it within his still closed mouth. She would be a perfect cunt to fuck at this moment, so wet and hot and wanton, but he moved forward, took her thigh over his broad shoulder, and the other hand held open her outer lips.

The first touch of his tongue felt as severe as a hot poker, but was so much more welcomed, sustaining her now as it traced the widening entrance of her sheath. Elizabeth’s body shoved forward against his mouth and locked up, she felt as if she were floating, his firm, pointed tongue moving up through her slippery folds and flicked at her engorged clitoris, rubbing the area beneath it until she howled. She felt his head tilt more downwards, his tongue now following along her inner labia in a criss-crossing manner as his mustache bristled against her clitoris. The sensation teetered on the edge of being painful, but still she rocked her pelvis against it, unable to get enough as she lay there with trembling legs. She felt herself opening up more as the tension built within her, there wasn’t enough of him to fulfill it yet, and she supposed Barbossa knew it.

It was so very tempting to close his lips over her erect clitoris and suck it; he knew that was what she wanted, but what he wanted was to make her have to wait until the point of near agony, just as she’d done to him. But it was not all revenge that he sought; it was also the sumptuous practice of once again possessing a woman’s most intimate of secrets, of controlling her body with his, and of holding her taste on his tongue and lips the way a rutting beast pursued the flavor of an in heat female on the air. Elizabeth was such a female, her musky sweetness filling both his mouth and nose until it became all he noticed, but could not get enough of. Barbossa angled his head to the side and began to lick her from vagina to clitoris with long, slow strokes of a broad, flat tongue.

Elizabeth whimpered and sucked in a breath sharply, her back arching up and then slamming herself back onto the table. She couldn’t be anymore erect or sensitive than she was, and to have so much of his tongue on her, licking her as if he meant to remove her clitoris with each stroke, nearly had her in tears of hypersensitive joy and frustration. How could it be that she felt too much of him and not enough of him all at the same time? Oh but she’d take more of him, she’d always take more of him! Her hands reached out now as though she were strong enough to pull him on top of her and make him fuck her, God how she wanted to feel that hard cock battering against her inner walls again, her hands wildly roaming his strong back as he took her, and his chest, that wonderful, broad chest. All she had of him was some small, though potently skilled, part of him, but she wanted more. He changed his angle again, and she felt his tongue thrust within her sharply. Her legs jumped and she gasped. “I wish I could touch you!”

Her voice was so full of passion and distress, as though she called to him from a crumbling ledge she was clinging to. Barbossa raised his head, replaced his tongue with his finger, the shudder it caused to roll through her felt against his thrusting digit. It was such a pleasant turn to be drowning in womanhood and having the lady beg to put her hands upon him. “Touch what?” He was out of breath just watching her trembling, twisting, tortured body.

She could see the great masculine, tattooed canvas rising and falling above her from behind her closed eyelids, the deep red chest hair, the pectoral muscles so prominent that she could cup her hands over them. Elizabeth was so lost in the image she barely realized she even spoke. “Your chest!”

Barbossa chuckled, of course, what else would this little one want? Well, just for her, he’d oblige. He rose up a bit onto one knee, leaning over her more; putting one shoulder in the bend of her thigh, and gave her swollen clitoris a sudden, brisk rub with the pad of his thumb. Elizabeth jumped again, her eyes springing open, blinking a few times before he held her glassy stare of attention. “Feel,” he told her as she watched him, then extended his arm up her body to her breast, and leaned forward until the whole of his flexing pectoral muscle sank against her slick heat.

The concept of this unorthodox thing he did to her was irresistible, for never before had Elizabeth dreamed such stuff. That which she loved so much about his body was now being pressed firmly against the most needful part of her own form, his hard nipple plowing through the crinolines of her most delicate center, nudging her further and further to a new level of yearning. For a moment she couldn’t even breathe, just lay there wide eyed, watching Barbossa take her, fucking her with his glorious chest.

“Aye, girl,” Barbossa groaned to her, rising up a bit higher and leaning more over her still. He’d never done such to a woman, but then he’d never had a woman as taken with his upper body as Elizabeth. Her warmth and moistness felt good against his skin, his nipple growing more erect as it found its way to her clitoris. “I’ve detected the engrossment y’be havin’ over my muscular attributes; thought y’d enjoy usin’ ‘em as an object of satisfaction.”

His nipple scraped over her swollen clitoris making Elizabeth cringe in delight. “Yes!” She gasped, moving against him now and making his chest hairs matt together and making his skin gleam with her drenching arousal. He reached up with the big hand of the shoulder between her legs and closed it over one breast, squeezing forcefully. Elizabeth moaned again as a new sensation of hungry tingles joined the fray she was already in. The Captain was now squeezing her nipple between his thumb and finger, gently tugging at it, his mouth kissing and sucking and biting her thigh as he tenaciously kept his rigid nipple scouring around and around her firm, vulnerable, little, blood gorged knot. Cold, Elizabeth’s entire body flashed cold as ice, her toes and fingers tingling with the great commotion that now infused her so, her helpless body floundered upon the table. It wouldn’t be long; she shoved herself to Barbossa’s chest more and more and ground herself against him.

He couldn’t let this pass, her wetness called to him to weather her through this storm with his mouth. He shifted, pulling back and quickly replacing his rubbing fingers where he’d sealed his pectoral muscle so that she wouldn’t be without contact at such a crucial moment. Elizabeth whined as soon as he was no longer against her but it quickly became a moan as his finger massaged her inner labia and clitoris. Her head sank back, off the end of he table as Barbossa whispered an apology to her that he doubted very much that she heard. Her juices were even slicker than before, muskier and he quickly clamped his open mouth over her entire slit and sucked until the primeval taste of them frenzied his masculine instincts. Elizabeth screamed beneath him and bucked her hips furiously as his tongue rolled fiercely over her waves, her fragrance and taste in his blood now. Barbossa grabbed her pelvis with both his strong hands and held her still to bear this, closed his lips around her twitching nub of nerve endings and sucked it hard while stabbing at the underside of it with his tongue. Again she screamed, tried to wriggle out of his grasp but failed; another deep flavor of her flooded his mouth and his cock sprang up against his abdomen in another pounding erection.

There was nothing else in the world but this at the moment and Elizabeth was as lost to it as she was in a dream. She called out to him, the source of that incredible touch, the one who’d put her where she was, and the tension suddenly broke like a stained glass window, came crashing down in a glittering display of colors before her closed eyes. The breath was gone from her body, and it wasn’t easy to get it back, not even as she lay there awash in the relief of convulsions, Barbossa still sucking hard at her shrinking clitoris.

He was dutiful, waited until she’d stopped thrashing, didn’t abandon her sensitive little organ until it softened and slipped from between his lips, back beneath its hood. Then he stood, wondering if she’d control enough of her faculties to yet realize the grievous mistake she’d just made. “Elizabeth,” he spoke softly, though some treacherous thought wound and wound in his head. She did look beautiful laying there on the table, eyes closed, her body glowing with perspiration, and the peaceful expression of an angel on her face. That would soon change. “Elizabeth,” Barbossa said again, this time putting a hand on either side of her head and kissing her still trembling lips. Her eyes opened and she made an effort to sit up against him and return his kiss. He closed his arms around her and brought her up to a sitting position, deepening their kiss, but just as her arms went to wrap around him, he swiftly pulled away, took one step back, and whipped her around so that she nearly fell face first back against the table.

“What?” She was still breathless and surprised, he leaned over her, pinning her with his chest against her back. He was hard again; she could feel it against her buttocks. She couldn’t see, but he was reaching into a leather pouch that sat on the table, searching for something, finding it and then opening what she took to be a jar. “Captain?”

An ominous laugh rumbled from within his chest. She’d committed a blunder, and now she’d pay for it, in a way Barbossa suspected she was as a virgin would have been. “Jack.” He said against her ear, letting her feel more of his weight on her. “Y’called me ‘Jack,’ girl!”