DISCLAIMER: I only borrowed them for a while. MGM and whoever can have them back whenever they want.
DEDICATED: to my muse and my love.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Interlude 5:
In praise of random spontaneity

By Celievamp

I can't even blame it on `Pirates of the Caribbean'. Quite how we went from having a cuddling come tickling contest on the couch to roleplaying pirate queen and lusty wench within the space of an hour escapes me. Well…

But it was worth it to see Samantha Carter barelegged in a long ankle length skirt that we had purloined from Cassie's wardrobe and a peasant style blouse I hadn't worn for years that made her look unusually buxom and combined with the look of need in her deep blue eyes, absolutely wanton.

The way she was tied up, scarves looped around her wrists, looped through the handles on the wardrobe doors meant that my head was more or less level with her breasts. And I was currently admiring the view very much. The scarves would hold her for about thirty seconds if she had a mind to free herself so I knew she wasn't hurting any.

Sam breathed deeply, her chest heaving in a most distracting manner. "Are you going to have your wicked way with me?" she whispered.

I swaggered a little. Heeled boots, skin tight leather trousers and a loose shirt open to show a lot of cleavage will make you do that. A blood red velvet scarf tied round my waist as a sash completed my ensemble. "I might," I whispered. "You are a most comely wench. Taking you would be very satisfying." I placed my hand over her crotch under the skirt, pressing my fingers into her for a moment. She gasped, and I watched her cheeks, neck and upper chest begin to flush. She moved her hips, forcing my fingers deeper into her for a moment. I pulled my fingers away, noting her pout of disappointment. Instead I reached up, ran my fingers through her hair, then pulled her head down towards me, gripping her hair a little tighter than I would have normally. I was the pirate queen after all. And our little act of random spontaneity hadn't precluded the settling of safe words and a broad code of conduct for this experimental role play.

I kissed her hard, deep, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. My hand loosened from her hair and rested on the back of her neck, my fingernails barely scratching her skin. She moaned into my mouth. Breathing hard I pulled back, gazing at her again.

Sam's breasts heaved against the inadequate confines of the thin blouse. It was a good job it was old, I considered. I couldn't remember when I had last worn it – or why I had even kept it. There were no especial memories attached to it – not before now of course. I smoothed my hands over it cupping her breasts through the thin fabric, feeling her pebble hard nipples push against my palms, playing with the plunge neckline for a moment before holding it in both hands and pulling hard, ripping the material down the front.

Sam made a strangled `eep' noise, her eyes wide. She was not wearing a bra. The shredded blouse hanging off her torso I kissed down from just behind her ear, down the column of her throat, along her collarbone then down the lightly freckled skin between her breasts.

She moaned, almost purring as I traced my tongue around the very erect nipple on her right breast, my fingers pinching and rolling its twin. My other hand rested on her thigh, gradually bunching up her skirt so that I could get to her bare skin. I couldn't tear the skirt from her as well – it was Cassie's after all.

She thrust her groin against my hip, rubbing herself against me. I pushed her back against the wardrobe. "Now wench!" I admonished her. "You do as I say." Sam stared at me her eyes so dilated that they seemed almost black. She swallowed hard, licked her lips. I tucked the edge of the skirt into the waistband, exposing her legs, her panties – which already looked pretty soaked. They were going to have to go. I stared into her eyes as my thumbs hooked into the sides of her panties and I pulled them down around her knees. She lifted up a foot to pull them further down, gravity doing the rest of the job and then kicked them off across the bedroom floor.

I got to my knees in front of her then and pressed my lips to the fine blonde hairs that masked her core. I could smell her arousal so strongly, see the evidence of it glistening amongst the hairs, shimmering on the skin at the top of her thigh. I sneaked out my tongue, just touching the tip to her and she shuddered, throwing her head back. There was a distinct `crack' as it hit the wardrobe door. I stilled myself. "You okay?"

"Um-hum. Just… just keep doing what you did then. I didn't feel any pain, I promise." Her voice was husky, quavering slightly. I smoothed my hands up her slim thigh, feeling the muscles quiver at my touch, turning my head to kiss and suckle at a spot just inside her thigh, placing the small bruise where only I will see it. I looked up to see Sam leaning forward slightly, so that she could see what I was doing to her. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, her eyes sparkling.

It was all the encouragement I needed. I pressed the flat of my tongue to her centre, my fingers splayed, spreading through her folds, feeling her honey gather in my palm. I flicked my tongue across her clit, sucking the nub of flesh into my mouth and rolling my tongue across it. I extended a finger inside her, feeling her muscles respond as I stroked, curling my finger slightly, keeping up the pressure on her clit with my tongue. I heard her moan, low and throaty, almost a purr. I added a second finger to the mix and her hips bucked against me.

"Sshh!" I whispered, blowing over her hot excited flesh. She cried out again, her internal muscles clenching around my fingers as she slumped against the wardrobe. I wrapped one arm around her legs, bracing her against me as I was afraid she would fall.

I kept getting flashes of Maureen o' Hara in all the Errol Flynn and Tyrone Power pirate movies I watched on Sunday afternoons with my mum. My short hair would never look the part – and all the wenches in those movies tended to be dark haired or voluptuous redheads. I still thought Janet made a better wench than I did but she was insistent on playing the pirate queen. And who was I to deny myself the pleasure of seeing my beloved in leather and lace. Not to mention velvet.

She looped the scarves around my wrist then tied them to the handles on the wardrobe doors. About thirty seconds work would undo them but still she took such care over doing them, making sure that the position wasn't too much of a strain on my trick shoulder. She pressed her body to mine, rubbing herself against me like a little cat, her dark eyes almost black. This was pressing some serious buttons with her. She gripped my hair tightly, pulling my head down and started to kiss me forcefully. Two could play at that game. I kissed her back with equal force and intensity, feeling the burn begin within me. Whatever happened, it was going to feel so good.

Then she ripped the front of the blouse open. That was a huge surprise. It was her blouse for starters. I had been in constant danger of spilling out of it from the moment I shrugged into it – we are somewhat different shapes and sizes my lover and I. Lets just say we don't often swap clothes. My leggy daughter is another matter and her peasant style skirt looked the part. I noted that Janet was more careful with that.

I rubbed myself against her and she was right into the role again, admonishing me She called me `wench'. I managed to keep a straight face even though that word reduces me to giggles. That word got me into this situation in the first place. I don't know why it popped into my head. She tucked up the length of the skirt into the waistband and pulled my pants down. Then she just stared at me for a long moment and licked her lips. I could feel myself start to cum just from that. As I finished kicking off my panties she knelt in front of me and pressed her mouth to my core. Her fingers danced up my inner thigh then she turned her face into my left thigh and started to suckle and bite the flesh. I was going to have a hickey. Marked – property of Janet Fraiser, MD, Air Force major and sometime pirate queen.

Then she touched my clit with her tongue, just the lightest of flicks but it was enough to make me see stars. I banged the back of my head quite hard against the wardrobe door but no way was a little pain going to stop me focussing on exactly what she was going to do with me.

I think the technical term is ravished. Possibly to within an inch of my life. Certainly I had one of the longest, loudest and hardest orgasms it has ever been my pleasure to experience. And at the end of it Janet was literally holding me up.

"Yo ho ho," I gasped weakly.

"No rum," Janet said seriously. "But I think we have some tequila left."

We grinned, said simultaneously. "Body shots!" She ran to get the bottle and the fixings and I untangled myself from my bonds. Playing pirates for the afternoon was fun, but there was something to be said for the old favourites.

The End

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