A Midnight Ramble

Title: A Midnight Ramble
Fandom: POTC
Author: JD101
Rating: Adult Only
Pairing: Captain Jack Sparrow, Female OC
Disclaimer #1: Jack belongs to the House of Mouse. Johnny gave him to me as a gift.
Disclaimer #2: This is a hobby. I am an amateur. No copywrite infringement is ever intended. No money is earned.


Jack had lost his shoe.

“Damn! Ya ratty piece of horsehide… cost me two pieces of eight! Theys jus’ na good…wi’ out two of ‘em!”

He walked on legs better suited to the top deck of a fast sloop than slippery sand that tricked him up and made his gate sillier than the rum he’d already downed. His balance finally gave up and plopped him unceremoniously on a pile of black seaweed and foam.

“A fine Captain you are, Jack me boy,” he slurred to himself. “Caint even navigate your hind quarters down a tiny spit of sand.”

Song and laughter from the town’s brothels, overflowing with the Black Pearl’s newly wealthy crew, faded into gentle rhythms on inky waves as he made his way to the surrounding dunes. The boys were having it all tonight, Jack thought as he tried to clear his spirits soaked mind. He raised his flask in a silent salute to the revelry of his men then he gave a nod to the infinite universe as his head lolled on his slumped shoulders.

“Take another drink, my Lord?”

“Who is there?” Jack looked round for the owner of the quiet voice

“Tis I, Mary. I have been waiting for you.”

“Mary?” His head snapped up, searching. “Are you Mary from the Twelve Bells or Little Mary from the whore’s rooms high on Dixon Road?”

She didn’t answer. With woozy knees, he stood and scanned the beach but could not see her.

“State your origin woman or your wait will be long,” he shouted into the night. “Blast! Where are you!”

Jack felt a ripple along his shoulder blades, a delicate caress, too intimate to be proper. Startled, he spun around and scanned the sandy dunes rattling with coarse sea grass. Finding no one, he sat again and shook his head.

“Must have been only a bit of weed blowin’ in the wind,” he laughed at his own imagination. “My rum filled head is a jester playin’ tricks for me own amusement this night.”

There, he felt it again, a whisper in his bones.

“Ah my Captain, ya do not remember me?” her voice forlorn, the sound of sand blown by the wind. She traced his backbone through his coarse linen blouse and a fine chill danced up his spine.

Jack twisted round to squint over his shoulder. He knew better than most how the night could play tricks on your eyes. The moon set shadows to dancing. But this time he saw a young woman, wisps of black hair glinting blue in the moonlight, pearly teeth shining in her lucent smile.

“You have stealth, my Lady. How do you come by here without me knowing?” he asked her as she sat beside him.

She turned her head and looked out to sea. “I’ve been watching and waiting for your return, my Captain.” She leaned into his shoulder, bringing her face close to his. Her breath, like an ocean breeze, filled his nostrils. Her pale white skin begged to be touched.

“Well now lass, prahaps my memory is lacking in many areas. But a face like yourn I would not soon forget. Why, you must be Mary from my heart, for tis surely lightened by your visage.” Jack said, his lips only inches from hers.

“Indeed, I await my Captain to release me from his heart so I may stand long in his service.” She wove her hand into his locked hair in a familiar gesture. “I hope you do not think me too forward or think less of my sweet nature to reach for you. So long I have waited.” She brought her lips to his and her kiss swirled around him. Jack felt himself sucked into a vortex. Where their mouths met was the eye of the storm. All havoc could be let loose and in that moment and only their kiss mattered. The bonnie lass enveloped him and he moved his lips to her long slender neck. She did not resist his advances; indeed she stretched her delicate throat to offer him more.

“Captain, you could arouse the devil himself.”
“Aye, lass, though, tis not the devil that’s aroused,” he said, moving her hand down to his buttoned lap.
“So say you, but it feels like the devil to me, my lord,” her laugh bubbled to the surface of her smile as she stroked him.

He kissed the rounded mounds at the top of her breasts. Their skin a silvery pale against his sun browned seaman’s hands as he gently loosed them from her blue cotton bodice. He took one sweet nipple into his mouth and sucked like a baby too long from his mother’s milk. His other rough sailor’s hand around her waist pulled her body to him and bowed her slightly back. Her heard her sigh in the wind as her skirts floated around him.

“You are bewitching me, Mary,” his voice was coarse and his breath came quickly. The woman had deftly opened the buttons of his britches as her kisses trailed the hardened muscles of his stomach and she bowed her head over his lap. His cock was exposed to the night air and he felt a mist of ocean against his balls before the exquisite warmth of her mouth engulfed the head of his pole.

He felt her tongue glide over the sensitive underside of his cock, slick as the scales of a mermaid. All the desires of his body and mind danced in his gonads as her warm wet mouth worked it’s magic on his prick.

She was luminous against the night sky. Her naked back bent over him, sleek, glistening and elegantly arched. She reminded him of the dolphins that ran with his ship in the deepest part of the ocean. Her lips made his cock grow harder and his yearning more intense than the strongest gold lust he’d ever known.

“You are a dream come true lass,” he gently stroked her head and murmured his desires.

Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, she stopped and leaned her languid body back. Her raven hair tangled like seaweed around her moonlit face. Her smile was the most inviting sight he’d ever laid eyes upon as she beckoned to him.

“My Captain, my love, I’ve waited so long for your return. Come into me now,” she said, lifting her billowing skirts and petticoats to reveal the sweet lips of her gender.

Jack took her in his arms and laid her in the sand. As eager as he was, he still took his time and gently parted her legs. He was careful with his seasoned hands not to scratch the alabaster skin of her inner thighs as he stroked them, inching his way to their plump tops. He ran the softer, back side of his hand over the light smattering of hair between her legs, then bowed his head low to kiss her slit and dip his tongue in to taste the briny cream. Jack marveled at the similarity between the wonders that lie between a woman’s open legs and the mysteries of the open sea as he explored her salty slit with an eager tongue. Her moans were carried on the wind to his ears as he tarried there.

At last moving up to lie on top of her, the taste of her still on his lips, he whispered, “Wait no longer, my love,” and pushed his heavy, thick cock into her wet and ready cunt. Her heat was the fire of hell and his balls quickened and tensed as he moved inside her, pushing hard against her lithe body. Her passion was a force to be reckoned with as she bucked against him, urging him on. He met each of her thrusts with an equal force of his own, his cock swelling to fill her. Diving deeply into her, over and over, he felt her nails clutch his shirt and grip his shoulders as if she were clinging to life. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he was able to rise to his knees with her clutching his neck. He held fast to her hips to steer his prick into her even more deeply. He saw only her luminous eyes and felt only her heat.

Their whirlpool of desire turned into an undertow that threatened to take him to a depth from which he feared he could not return. His whole being was funneling into the fire of her body. He thrilled at the sight of his prick plunging the eddy of her cunt, her bosom moving in rhythm with his thrusts, her cries of pleasure echoing off the rocks and sand. He felt himself ready to release.

All was mindless pleasure now. He looked directly into the dark recesses of her eyes as she opened her mouth in a silent scream. A thin stretch of air escaped her lips as he gushed into her with a powerful thrust. He lost all thought and the last glimmer of moonlight as his own final gasp of orgasm took what little was left of his consciousness.

Jack heard a woman scream somewhere over the sound of roiling waves. No, not a woman’s scream, he thought, but a seagull’s screech.

His body felt like lead and his eyes seemed stuck with tar. He dared not move his head least the hammer strike it again. His mouth felt like he had swallowed an ocean of sand.

He slowly lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the blinding Caribbean sun, already heating up the white dunes surrounding him. How long he had been lying there on the beach, he was not able to tell. The angle of the sun told him it was late morning, but what day?

He laboriously sat up and retched just a little to his side. No getting sick. There was nothing in his stomach to be sick on. He had to get out of the heat and he had to get something to drink. He found his trusty rum flask buried nearby, but the blasted thing was dry. He took stock of his person and found his britches were on but loose, his shirt was shredded and his back was scratched. Images slowly came back to his addled mind. The lass was gone and he was alone.

“Ya could not a dreamed that up, mate,” he mumbled to himself as he stood unsteadily and buttoned his fly. A flash of deep dark eyes surfaced in his thoughts and then submerged as quickly as it came.

The need for shelter and hydration became acute and he slowly trundled up the shore towards town. It seemed an awful long ways off to him and he didn’t remember walking so far. “But then again, Jackie boy, how long have you been wandering?” He said to himself. It was a question he couldn’t really answer. He knew he had followed a woman. He felt the memory of her in his loins. But her sent was merging with the ocean breeze.

Looking up the beach, searching the leeward side of the dunes for some shade in which to cool off and pull himself together, he spotted a lowly stone building. Jack made his way to the small shanty on lethargic legs. It didn’t seem any larger than the tiny mausoleums he’d seen in New Orleans. It was certainly too small to house anything of substance and he almost passed it by when he noticed the door was ajar. Though it was not an inviting place for there was an air of sorrow about it, Jack was not one to leave his curiosity unsated. He opened the weathered wooden door fully and found a sort of shrine inside. There was just enough headroom for a man to walk in and just enough girth for him to turn around. A stone bench was set to one side and an engraved bronze plaque stood on the other.

Jack leaned in close and made out the writing on the plaque.


In memmory o’ our b’loved dawtter
Mary Fletcher
1720-1739
D’voted wife o’ Captain John Fletcher
Royal British Navy

She stoode watch along ye shores line
Till ye storm swept her away
To joine her deare b’loved
For’ever at ye bottom of ye Sea

Gods mercy on ye souls