Pirate Passions. A Gay Erotic Novel E-Book

Robert Bringston

• Herausgeber: Bruno Gmünder Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 408

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Beschreibung

Stormy Adventures on the High Seas: Plymouth, 1586. After his parents' untimely death, Tom is sent by his uncle on a long sea journey. He's soon inducted into the erotic rituals of the men of the British fleet. When pirates attack the ship, Tom is taken captive-only to learn that pirates, too, have their masculine rituals. Tom becomes a brother in the band of pirates, but there's something that keeps him yearning for the boys in His Majesty's service ...

Leseprobe

For Josua

Prologue

The year is 1586. Plymouth, Devon County, in the southwest of England. Take a look at this city, one of the richest in the country. In recent years, Plymouth has developed into an important trade harbor—a fact many of its inhabitants have to thank for their comfortable lifestyles. Above all, merchants depend on secure shipping routes to France and Spain to maintain their businesses. This is the only way they can sell wares from other parts of Europe at cheap market prices and make a profit on their own products. For some time, however, more and more loaded ships have gone missing on the stormy seas. But weather isn’t the biggest danger to valuable freight: pirates and buccaneers hijack these cumbersome trade schooners. With their light, nimble caravels, their prey is child’s play; their barbaric propensity for violence makes any resistance futile. The few men who survive these struggles bring back reports of horrifying duels with these robbers of the sea. Prisoners, if there are any, are sold into slavery in new colonies overseas.

Two years later, in August 1588, vice admiral Sir Francis Drake, in the royal commission of her Majesty Elizabeth the First of England, will set forth with 34 ships from Plymouth harbor and lay siege to the Spanish armada. But that’s another story. My adventure begins on an early summer evening in a secluded cabin on the outskirts of Dartmoor Forest …

Everything was prepared. A bottle of wine was cooling in a pail of fresh spring water, the aroma of fresh bread permeated every corner of our humble abode. Today would be the last time we would see each other for a long time. I yearned in anticipation of my beloved. Yes, over time that word had become much easier for me to say. My heart beat faster every time I thought of him. From the timid shoots of honest friendship, a fragrant bloom of profound love had sprung, bringing us to a level of complete harmony neither of us had ever experienced before. I longed for his tender hands on my skin, for the whispered nothings he would murmur in my ear, making me shake every time; for his open laugh, so contagious that we would fall on top of each other snorting, teasing, and poking one another, eventually laying down exhausted next to one another, while his blue eyes examined my heated body.

My cock was already tingling imagining the next few hours, snaking down my right pants leg in expectation. I made myself comfortable in our favorite spot, where we’d enjoyed so much refuge in the past. A large blanket on fresh, fragrant hay would give us shelter for the night. Where single rays of sun fell through the missing tiles in the roof, casting shimmering patterns on the walls, soon the first stars would shine down on us, making our last night truly special. Full of anticipation, I closed my eyes. My thoughts wandered back a few months, to when it all started …

As I had often had to do in recent weeks, I was supposed to send an urgent message for my uncle, Walter Moore. Cheerful and proud that he had entrusted this crucial dispatch to me, I set out bright and early in the morning. I carried the letter in a double leather case inside a backpack slung on my shoulders. My uncle’s faithful cook maid had equipped me with ample provisions for the journey.

“Here, take this skin, I’ve filled it with fresh spring water,” she said, winking at me roguishly, “… and topped off with a bit of cold beer.”

A few strands of fog still hung over the damp meadows, but the first rays of the sun were already streaming down over the crowns of the trees of the neighboring forest. It would be a warm, sunny day.

The merchant I was supposed to carry the letter to lived on an estate not far from the city limits of Plymouth.

“Thomas, you visit me almost as infrequently as your uncle,” he greeted me warmly. “You think he could tear himself away from his work sometime? He’ll come to a bad end. It’s good at least that he has you to help him with all his work.”

William Ambrose was a small, squat man with gradually graying hair that was already noticeably thinner on the back of his head.

“Those were the days, when your uncle and I travelled together to the sea. My boy, we had some real adventures. But come in, Thomas. You can lay the package on the cabinet there. You’ve come in perfect time for lunch. You are staying, aren’t you? Of course you’ll stay. Your uncle will be able to do without you for a couple hours. Sit down! Have I already told you about the horrible typhoon in Sumatra? No! It was the worst weather you could imagine. It’s only thanks to your uncle’s skill that we didn’t sink without a trace. Well … of course I did my part as well. But that worthless captain very nearly had our blood on his hands. Ah, there comes the food. Beautifully braised quail in mushroom sauce. My mouth is watering already. But where was I? Oh yes, the storm …”