Jeeves and the Dread Pirate Wooster
The gentle breeze that wafted through the French doors bathed my face
with warmth and peace and filled my nostrils with the scent of the
exotic white plumeria that grew in profusion all around the cottage.
The cottage itself was a delight, small but airy and well-appointed,
and situated on a beach far from prying eyes. Giant palms shaded the
little structure, bringing relief from the hot sun overhead. There was
even a private area, enclosed by a tall white fence, where one might
sunbathe nude.
I gazed at the ocean just yards from our front
door. The water was a deep blue, calm and sparkling, and reflected the
mood in which I found myself. Mr. Wooster was elsewhere in the cottage,
attending to what he said were 'surprises.'
As I scan these few
lines now, I realize I have made the same mistake Mr. Wooster often
makes when writing his memoirs. I have ‘bunged,’ as he so charmingly
puts it, the reader into the middle of the story, perhaps confusing him
to no small degree. Please allow me to correct my transgression by
relating the events of a remarkable night some four weeks ago, which is
when this story really begins.
Mr. Wooster returned to our flat
earlier than expected that afternoon. It was a surprise, as his usual
practice was to remain at the Drones until tea time. I greeted him in
the sitting room where he was pouring himself a drink. I could see by
the expression on his face that he had news to impart. After kissing me
on the cheek, he stood back and looked at me, his attitude that of an
excited schoolboy.
“I shan’t tell you in a million years,
Jeeves. I don’t care what you say or do or even guess, I will not tell
you what you’re getting for your birthday.” Mr. Wooster shook his
finger at me in a playful manner. “You will just have to wait and see.
What was it the poet said about patience, Jeeves?”
“I believe it was Sir Thomas Wyatt, sir, who said:
“Patience! though I have not
The thing that I require;
I must, of force, God wot,
Forbear my most desire,
For no ways can I find
To sail against the wind.”
“That’s
the ticket,” Mr. Wooster said. “You’d be sailing against the wind,
Jeeves, if you tried to get this information from me. And don’t try to
psychologise it out of me, either. I’m on to your tricks.”
“Very
good, sir,” I said, all the while wondering what he was planning. His
plots and schemes usually revealed themselves in due time, whether he
wanted the revelations made or not. But he had piqued my curiosity. So
I said nothing further and allowed him to play into my hands. I did not
have long to wait.
“'Very good, sir'? That’s all you can say?” Mr. Wooster sounded disappointed. “You’re not even going to try?”
I had him, or so I thought at the time. “It is not my place, sir, to pry into your personal affairs.”
He huffed in annoyance. “You are my personal affair, Jeeves. Pry all you like.”
I lifted my eyebrows a fraction. “Sir, you have given me to understand that you wish to keep your information private.”
Mr.
Wooster flopped into his favourite armchair. “Well, you certainly lack
spirit in this, Jeeves. What is the point of having a secret if you
don’t try to weasel it out of me?”
I nodded. “What have you purchased for me for my birthday, sir?”
Mr.
Wooster jumped out of his chair and grinned widely. “I can’t tell you,
Jeeves,” he said, as delighted as a child with a new toy. “It’s a
secret.”
“A secret, sir?” I said as I advanced toward him. “And
you claim I have no means by which I might divest you of that secret? I
am afraid I must disagree with you.”
A wary expression replaced the grin. He edged around to the back of the armchair until it was between us.
“Now,
Jeeves,” he said as we circled the chair, neither of us breaking eye
contact. “I said I wasn’t going to spill the beans and I meant it.”
The
breathless excitement in his voice belied his words. He enjoys the
chase, loves being caught, and adores submitting to me. His desire for
submission, however, in no way compromises his masculinity. His
striking features, his slim, wiry frame, his beautiful and kind heart,
and his insatiable desire for me combine to make him the most
intoxicating man I have ever known. And he loves me as I love him, with
a fierce and tender passion.
“But, sir,” I said as I closed the distance between us, “you did request that I try, did you not?”
Mr. Wooster held up a placating hand. “I mean to say, Jeeves, you mustn’t ruin the surprise. I’ve worked very hard on this.”
“I
have no intention of ruining the surprise, sir,” I said and then
reached out and slipped my fingers around his grey silk tie, preventing
further flight. “I merely wish to know what it is. Having knowledge of
a surprise does not always ruin it. It may simply allow one all the
more time to enjoy it.”
I used the tie to draw him closer and
closer until his face was an inch from mine. His warm breath caressed
my cheek, and his parted lips begged to be kissed. I brushed my lips
against his and withdrew, teasing him, knowing what he most wanted was
my tongue against his own. My mouth trailed across his hot cheek, then
along his jawline and down his elegant neck.
“What is your
secret, sir?" I whispered against his ear. “Must I employ more drastic
measures to extract this information from you?” I released the tie and
moved my hands to his waist, to his back, and then to his buttocks. I
felt the warmth of his body radiating through the fine material of his
trousers, and the desire to see him naked and writhing under my own
body, begging me to touch him, to let him come, threatened to undo me.
He
shuddered against me and wound his strong arms around my neck, arching
into my touch. Small, sweet sounds of delight escaped his throat as he
pressed himself fully against me. I felt his desire, hard against my
own, and it was all I could do not to tear his clothes from his body
and ravish him where he stood.
“Do your worst, Jeeves,” he said,
then moaned as I bit gently on his perfect earlobe. “I still won’t tell
you. No matter what you do.”
“My worst, sir?” I said softly and then squeezed the firm flesh beneath my hands. “You have never experienced my worst.”
“Then
I want to now,” he said and pulled my mouth to his. He kissed me
deeply, forcefully, and then framed my face in his hands. “Show me your
worst.” He kissed me again, gently this time. “See if you can break me,
Jeeves. I dare you to try.”
I accepted his challenge. Several
hours later, to my great surprise, his secret was still intact, despite
my using restraints, a feather duster, and ice in my attempts to wrest
it from him. And his secret had remained intact for the next month,
until we boarded the ocean liner that brought us here to Cuba.
The
reader should know how unusual a gift this trip was. Mr. Wooster's
usual course of action would have been to purchase for me a book, as
well as to grant me permission to do whatever I wished during our
lovemaking. Mr. Wooster is an enthusiastic and demanding lover, always
ready to try a new technique or a different position. As the reader can
imagine, I anticipate my birthdays with great delight and often spend
the week before thinking up adventurous positions into which I may bend
my beautiful and flexible master. But this gift, the gift of a trip to
Cuba, was more than I ever expected.
Mr. Wooster knew how I
desired to see the island. I never could have afforded such a trip on
my own salary, even though my employer is a generous one. A servant --
and I still think of myself as such in spite of our long understanding
-- is taught to conserve his meagre wealth against illness and old age.
The cost of such a trip could have kept me for more than a year. And
whilst Mr. Wooster and I had declared our lifelong commitment to one
another, our relationship was a precarious one, subject to the whims of
a society that did not condone love between two men and would deal
harshly with that love if it were discovered.
Yet there we were
on the island I had so longed to see. Mr. Wooster had promised several
fishing excursions, a tour of Havana, walks on the beach and all the
seclusion we could want for two weeks. We had privacy in that cottage.
We could talk without being overheard and share our love and our bodies
without fear of discovery. This trip with Mr. Wooster was everything I
had ever desired. As I stood before the French doors, I closed my eyes
and breathed deeply of the salt air. My happiness was complete.
Mr. Wooster’s voice interrupted my reverie.
“Jeeves?”
I
turned around, eager to take him into my arms and make love with him in
this exotic place, with the ocean breeze caressing our naked bodies and
the sound of the waves crashing on the beach in our ears. I wanted to
thank him for the hundredth time for bringing me here, for granting me
my heart’s desire.
But the sight of him robbed me of speech.
Once
before, I had seen my lover dressed as a woman in a gown and corset.
The sight of his masculine body shaved and encased in silk and lace had
driven me wild with lust, and I had extracted from him a promise to don
the costume again for special occasions such as my birthday. However,
since he had already gifted me with the trip, I had not expected him to
fulfil that promise this year. I was completely shocked, therefore, to
see Mr. Wooster standing before me in vestments better suited for a
vixen of the high seas than a proper English gentleman.
Mr.
Wooster's long legs were clean shaven and encased to the knees in black
leather boots. His thighs were bare, visible and tantalizing beneath a
short black skirt. I could see the petticoats below the hem, frilly and
lacy and looking as if they would feel magnificent against my bare
stomach as I took him from behind. He also wore a black leather bustier
over a flowing red blouse, giving him the illusion of breasts peeking
out of the low collar. Dark hair fell in curls against his shoulders, a
high-quality wig from its appearance, and was topped with a
three-cornered hat, with a long red feather sticking out jauntily from
the side. Ruby red lips and flushed cheeks completed the ensemble.
I felt all the blood in my body rush to my groin as I gazed upon him.
"Sir," I began in a husky voice, but Mr. Wooster interrupted me.
"Captain
Jeeves," he said, giving me a playful wink. "I, the Dread Pirate
Wooster, have invaded your beach, intending to raid its treasures. If
you want to keep your booty safe, I recommend you come and stop me."
I
looked down at my own clothing with a frown. I was still wearing my
usual summer uniform, hardly fitting for this type of play. "I am
afraid, sir, that I am not dressed--"
Mr. Wooster drew a large parcel from behind his back and tossed it at me. I caught it deftly and stared at it.
"You
have fifteen minutes, Captain Jeeves," Mr. Wooster said as he turned to
leave the room, his skirts swishing temptingly around his thighs. "Meet
me on the sand. And be quick about it, or I won't let you plunder my booty when I'm done with yours."
Before or since, I have never dressed as quickly as I did then.
Inside
the parcel, I found a pair of black trousers so tight that I was forced
to remove my underthings before I could fasten them. There was also a
loose black shirt with ruffles down the front, a black waistcoat that I
left open, and a gold scarf that I tied as a belt around my waist.
Slipping on my own tall black boots and captain's hat, I began to feel
like the pirate I was dressed as. I twisted my lips in what I hoped
resembled a cruel smile and nearly ran for the beach.
Mr.
Wooster stood on the sand, his back to the afternoon sun. His feet in
their knee-length boots were spread wide, as if he were standing on a
ship's heaving deck. The brilliant sun set the red blouse ablaze, and
the wind whipped the long dark curls around his face and shoulders. To
my astonishment, he held a rapier in either hand.
With his
back to the sun, I could not see his face as I approached. I must have
appeared cautious and uncertain because his next words were delivered
as a taunt.
"Tell me, Captain Jeeves," he said, tossing the long
curls over his shoulder with a shake of his head. "How do you expect to
defend your beach with a hangdog attitude such as yours?"
He
tossed me a rapier and seemed a bit surprised when I caught it easily
and held it jauntily at my side. I threw myself into the game. If my
playful and inventive lover wanted a battle, then he would get it.
"So you are the Dread Pirate Wooster," I said as we began circling each other. "I have heard much about you."
He
grinned at me, appearing to enjoy himself immensely. "I should hope
that you have, Captain Jeeves," he said. "I am the terror of the Cuban
coast. No man and no treasure is safe while I prowl the seas."
"No
man is safe?" I asked and an unexpected frisson of jealousy warmed my
chest. "Tell me, my lovely pirate wench, how many men have you
conquered? Five, ten, more? How many hearts have you plundered?"
My
lips twisted in what might have been anger; to this day, I do not know.
I could only picture my lover sweating and panting under scores of
faceless strangers. But he belonged to me and only me. He needed to
know this, I decided. He needed to be reminded of this fact.
"Dozens,"
he said, appearing not to notice my sudden ire. "Would you like to join
that group of illustrious gentlemen, Captain Jeeves? But be warned. You
will not take me without a fight."
He brandished his rapier in
what he appeared to think was an expert fashion. I held my own in front
of me and, with my free hand, motioned for him to come near.
"Why do you not approach me, my beautiful vixen? Do not tell me the Dread Pirate Wooster is afraid."
"I
fear no man," he said, but his voice shook, betraying him to me, the
only man who had ever made love to him. "Not even you, Captain Jeeves."
"Then defend yourself," I said, moving forward and sending my rapier crashing against his.
The
impact sent his weapon flying from his hand. He looked at his hand,
then back at me, incredulous, then walked backward a few steps. I
levelled my blade at his heart, inches away from his perfect pale skin.
He stood as if he'd grown roots, staring at me as I edged closer. I
could see his face clearly now, and I was shocked at what I saw in his
expression.
Fear and lust warred in his expressive blue eyes.
I was certain he could still see the jealousy and anger in my own, and
when I reached out my free arm to pull him to me, he turned and ran
down the beach.
After a moment of stunned immobility, I gave
chase. Mr. Wooster is a very fast runner, which has aided him in many
of his escapades. However, the Dread Pirate Wooster's high-heeled boots
slowed him considerably on the loose sand. I caught him in only a few
yards. Grasping his upper arm, I pulled him sharply backward against my
body. He struggled to free himself, but I gently laid my rapier across
his chest. He stilled instantly, breathing hard.
"I have
captured you. You are mine, lass," I said into his ear. "I will have
you now, and it will be so perfect, you will never desire another."
Mr. Wooster swallowed hard. "You sound sure of yourself, Captain Jeeves."
"Oh,
I am." I nuzzled the long curls falling over his ear. "I am versed in
many of the most pleasurable torture methods. I will have you begging
for my mercy before I make you come harder than you ever believed
possible."
With a groan, Mr. Wooster pushed back into my groin.
I ground my erection into his buttocks, hoping that he could feel me
through all the layers of his frilly undergarments. "Jeeves," he moaned.
"Captain Jeeves," I reminded him. "I will have your respect, as well as your body."
Mr.
Wooster took a deep breath, as if to centre himself and gather his
courage. Then, he said in a defiant voice, "You may take both of those
things by force, if you have a mind to do so, but you will never have
my heart, Captain Jeeves."
A sharp pain went through my
own chest at those words. I had to remind myself that this was only a
game and that he did indeed love me, passionately and wholeheartedly.
Nevertheless, when I next spoke, my voice held a slight tremor. "We
shall see about that, my dear."
Very carefully, I released him
and stepped away from his trembling form. Raising my arm, I once again
pointed the end of my rapier at his chest as he turned to face me. I
dipped the long blade of the rapier and used it to lift the hem of his
skirt a few inches, until I could see that he was not wearing anything
underneath the petticoats. My erection throbbed in my too-tight
trousers. I allowed the skirt to fall again and ordered, "Remove your
clothing. I want to see what treasures you are hiding."
Mr.
Wooster's hand automatically flew to the ribbon holding the front of
his bustier closed, but then paused and forced his hands back to his
sides. He lifted his chin and said, "No." I pretended not to notice
that his voice shook.
"Remove them, or I will cut them from your body."
My
lover gasped and I could tell that arousal shot through his body by the
way his hips jerked and his fingers curled. I had had no intention of
carrying out my threat, but if that is what he wanted, I would oblige.
Without waiting for his refusal, I used the rapier to cut the laces
holding the bustier together. It was just sharp enough to slice cleanly
and quickly. The black leather fell from his torso. With another
careful slice, the red shirt parted down the middle. I was about to
divest him of his skirt when Mr. Wooster shoved aside the blade with
the back of his hand and flung himself at me.
Our mouths met
with a ferocity that rarely comes into our lovemaking. I gripped Mr.
Wooster about the waist and shoulders and pulled him flush to me,
attacking his lips and tongue with my own. He refused to be dominated,
fighting back fiercely as our mouths did battle. Neither of us wanted
to give up the fight, but, eventually, Mr. Wooster had to break for
air. He instead fell to kissing my neck, interspersing his frantic
kisses with nips and growled words.
"Oh, Jeeves! I love.... You are so.... Love you... so much."
I
was not idle whilst Mr. Wooster lavished me with his fervent
attentions. My hands swiftly divested him of the ruins of his shirt,
his hat and the wig. Once he was bared to the sun and my eyes, I dipped
him backward over my arm. He gasped in surprise and clutched at my
shoulders, off-balance and panting heavily. I kept him there as I
feasted on his tiny brown nipples, loving the way his hairless chest
felt under my lips. His skin was as smooth as silk and flushed dark
pink. He groaned my name over and over as I suckled him, nipping the
hard nubs occasionally and soothing the sting with my tongue.
"Oh, Jeeves," he panted. "Please, get undressed. Make love to me now."
In
his urgency, he was losing the character he had chosen to play;
however, I was not yet ready to relinquish the game. "Are you so easily
conquered, milady? I expected a greater battle for your virtue," I said
with my lips against his sternum.
Mr. Wooster shivered and
attempted to push my waistcoat from my shoulders. "Oh, captain, my
captain, the battle was lost the second I laid eyes on you. Now, come
and claim your prize." He pushed one of my hands down and under his
skirts until I was cupping one muscular buttock in my palm. I squeezed
it and cherished the moan that elicited.
Straightening once
again, I pulled Mr. Wooster flush to my chest and took his lips with my
own. I kissed him and swore I could taste his eagerness for me. After a
long moment, I pulled away from his mouth and gazed at the swollen, red
lips as he licked them with his agile tongue. I could feel myself throb
with lust for this wanton creature in my arms. "I will have you under
me," I told him, "sweating and screaming my name. But, first, I want
those pouting lips wrapped around my cock."
Burying his face
in my neck, my master groaned my name and tangled his fingers briefly
in my hair before dropping gracefully to his knees. His fingers shook
as he fumbled at the fly of my trousers. I did not help him, for his
frantic scrabbling felt exquisite against my erection. Finally, Mr.
Wooster freed me, and my prick fairly leapt into his hands. Mr. Wooster
leaned forward and rested his forehead against my lower belly for a
moment, breathing deeply of my scent. Then, he extended his tongue and
licked me, just above the patch of dark pubic hair. I ran my fingers
through his sandy brown hair and tugged ever so gently. "Suck me," I
ordered in the quiet, authoritative voice to which Mr. Wooster always
responded eagerly.
A soft gust of breath chilled my moistened
skin, then Mr. Wooster was moving, licking up my shaft from base to
tip. He lapped at the head, catching the fluid leaking there on the tip
of his tongue. His eyes fluttering shut in pleasure, he swallowed it
down like it was the finest brandy. Once he had the taste of me, my
lover was quite eager for more. He took the head completely into his
mouth and sucked hard, causing my hips to jerk violently. He set his
teeth against me gently and hummed, and I had to force my body not to
buck again. He looked up at me with wide, seductive eyes as he worked,
and I could not keep myself from groaning loudly at the lust I could
see in his expressive features. The sight of his brilliant red lips
surrounding my turgid flesh did not help me keep my control. I dug my
fingers into his scalp and gently encouraged him downward.
Mr.
Wooster complied, bobbing and alternating between using his tongue
against the most sensitive part of my erection -- the sweet spot just
under the foreskin -- and shoving the tip of that marvellous muscle
into the slit. All the while, he worked the rest of the shaft with his
fist and rolled my testicles in the palm of his other hand. From
experience, he knew this was the fastest way to bring me to climax. I,
however, did not wish to come in Mr. Wooster's mouth. I allowed his
attentions for no more than a minute, then tightened my grip in his
hair and used it to forcibly pull him away from my groin. He pouted
most attractively and eyed my erection hungrily.
"Enough," I told him. "Turn around and lift your skirts."
I
thought he meant to comply, but then Mr. Wooster's face split into a
mischievous grin and he placed both hands behind my knees and jerked,
sending me crashing to the sand in front of him. I lay there stunned
for a short time, but it was long enough for him to straddle my waist
and pin my hands to the sand.
"I have you now, Captain
Jeeves," he said between kisses to my jaw. "You must remember, darling.
Though you have captured the elusive heart of the Dread Pirate Wooster
and have the body at your disposal, as well, your heart and luscious physique belong to me."
And then he ground his naked crotch into my own. I could feel our
erections rub together under his skirts and reached up to fill my hands
with the flesh of his buttocks and pull us closer together.
"Is
that right, milady?" I gasped as we began to rock together slowly.
"Would you really claim this humble va-- pirate as your own?"
Mr.
Wooster looked down at me, his face flushed and his eyes loving. His
mouth lost the playful smirk. "Oh, yes," he whispered and leaned down
to kiss me gently on the lips before speaking the next words against my
cheek. "There is nothing I want more than for you to be mine for the
rest of our lives, Jeeves."
Emotion closed my throat, and I was
unable to speak. Instead, I took Mr. Wooster's lips with my own and
kissed him as passionately as I could, thrilled that I could taste
myself in his mouth. As I expressed my love through my lips and tongue,
my hands also demonstrated the depth of my regard. I stroked Mr.
Wooster's buttocks and hips, causing shivers of delight to course
through his frame. I allowed my fingers to stray into the cleft,
searching out that tight entrance with the intent of rubbing my
fingertip against the smooth, dry skin, but what I found stunned me.
His
opening was slick and dripping with oil and one fingertip slid easily
inside. I pulled away from his mouth with a shocked gasp. "Oh, sir!" I
cried. He only smirked and dipped his head to suck at my neck. I
explored his wet skin with a fingertip and shivered with lust. "You're
so wet. So open for me."
Mr. Wooster nibbled along my jaw. "I
want you so much, Jeeves. I wanted to be ready for you," he told me. "I
didn't want to spend any time searching for lubricant, not when you
could be debauching the Wooster corpus. Though it was awfully
nice when you buggered me with nothing but my own release to ease the
way...." He trailed off with a pleased groan as I inserted another
finger in him. It met with no resistance. I began thrusting the two
fingers in and out of his stretched hole, enjoying the smooth glide of
flesh on flesh. Mr. Wooster's hips began moving in time, urging me
deeper and faster, until he exclaimed, "Oh, no more teasing, darling.
Bugger me!"
I shook my head. "Not yet, Bertie. I want to watch
you ride my hand a little longer. You are so beautiful like this." And
he was. His hairless torso was flushed red and starting to glisten with
sweat. His nipples were pebble hard and begging for my mouth. His
handsome face was contorted in bliss, his red lips open and eyes closed
as he moved against the fingers in his hole. The skirt he wore tented
in the front, pushed forward by the strength of his erection. The sight
of him alone was almost enough to bring me to my peak.
Opening
his eyes, Mr. Wooster taunted me, "What's the matter, Captain Jeeves?
Don't you want to plunder my booty?" He clenched his muscles around my
fingers, and my control snapped.
With a growl of his Christian
name, I withdrew my fingers and moved both hands to his naked hips. I
urged him forward and up, sliding the cleft of his buttocks along my
erection until the tip of me was resting against his slick entrance.
Before I could pull him downward, Mr. Wooster was taking me in of his
own accord. He slid down my shaft quickly, the oil adding to the saliva
still coating my prick and allowing for easy entry.
Mr. Wooster
did not give me time to adjust to being fully embedded in his tight,
hot body. As soon as he had taken me in completely, he was rising
again. The muscles of his thighs flexed as he raised and lowered
himself over and over again. His rhythm was slow but steady and left me
breathless under him.
"Oh, Jeeves!" he cried, throwing his head
back in ecstasy. "You're so deep like this." He demonstrated this claim
by sinking down on me completely. I could feel the soft skin of his
arse pressed hard against my bollocks. He bit his lower lip against a
loud cry.
"Don't hold back," I told him in a hoarse, panting
voice. "No one can hear you scream but me." I took his hard nipples
between my thumbs and forefingers and pinched them, tugging just a
little.
"Oh!" he shouted. "Good Lord! Jeeves!" Then he wailed as my cockhead hit his prostate particularly hard.
Leaning
forward, Mr. Wooster placed his hands on my shoulders and held me down
as he began to ride my cock faster. Passion-fuelled grunts and whimpers
fell from his lips, interspersed with wailing moans and blissful cries
of my name. Never before had my lover been so unrestrained in his
vocalizations during lovemaking. The erotic noises aroused me so much
that I doubted my ability to hold off my own orgasm long enough to
bring Mr. Wooster to climax before me. I tried to imagine one of my
love's elderly aunts naked and writhing atop me in a desperate attempt
to stave off my completion. However, I could not get out of my head the
sight of Mr. Wooster's sweat-dampened and sex-flushed body moving so
sinuously in my lap. "I love you," I found myself telling him
earnestly. "Dear God, sir, I love you."
"Love you!" he answered me. "Bugger me, Jeeves! Harder!"
I
bent my knees and dug the heels of my boots into the sand for purchase
and began lifting my hips to meet his downward thrusts. I could hear
our bodies slapping together and the squelch of my prick moving inside
him. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to see his tiny,
glistening hole stretched around me. "Show me, sir," I beseeched him.
My hands went to his waist and pulled ineffectually at the waistband of
his skirts. "Let me see."
In one smooth movement, Mr. Wooster
threw himself backward and rested against my thighs, one hand tangling
in his own hair while the other hand lifted the hem of his skirts. He
opened his knees wider and continued to ride me, not quite taking as
much of my prick as before but making up for the loss of depth with the
increased enthusiasm of his strokes. Between his trembling, spread
thighs, I could see my shaft plunging in and out of his body and, above
that, his hairless bollocks and long, red prick bobbing in time with
his movements. I could only stare with wonder at the sight of my dark
shaft, glistening with oil and saliva, as it disappeared over and over
into his grasping and eager hole. Releasing his nipples, I used one
hand to hold his bollocks out of the way and the other to trace the
muscles stretched around my prick. Mr. Wooster moaned wantonly and his
movements stuttered before becoming smooth strokes once again.
I
threw out the hand I had been using on his testicles and grabbed for
Mr. Wooster's discarded hat. I could just reach it from where I lay and
dragged it closer to me, plucking the red feather from the band before
casting the hat aside once more. I ran the tip of the feather down Mr.
Wooster's flushed and sweaty chest, teasing his nipples briefly before
lowering it farther. I used the soft edge of the feather to trace the
veins in his shaft, covering the thing in the milky fluid leaking from
the tip of him in the process. When I lowered the feather even more and
used it to tickle his bald testicles, Mr. Wooster's muscles clamped
around my shaft and his body bucked. He threw his head back and howled.
"Ooh! Jeeves! Good Lord, man! Don't stop!"
The
sensations in my own groin at this were so exquisite that I echoed my
master's ecstatic cries. "Oh, sir! Ride me! Don't stop!"
I could
feel my body tense in preparation for orgasm and knew I did not have
much time left. I threw away the feather and cupped his testicles in my
palm again. "Touch your cock," I ordered Mr. Wooster as I rolled that
smooth sac in one hand and clutched him around his waist with the
other. "Bring yourself off. I want to watch you come on my stomach." I
used my grip on him to aid his movements, raising and lowering him on
my cock, urging him to fuck himself on me faster and faster. I could
tell by the way his cock twitched and leaked more clear fluid every
time I sank into him that I was continually striking his prostate. In
only seconds, he would be covering me with his semen. "Oh, do it, sir,
please!"
The hand in his hair flew to his erection, and Mr.
Wooster started stroking himself roughly. "Oh, Jeeves, Jeeves! Jeeves,
almost there!"
"Yes, yes," I encouraged him. My hand held him
tighter and tighter, until I knew I was going to be leaving bruises on
his perfect pale skin. Yet, I could not bring myself to release him. I
brought him down sharply again and again, crushing our groins together
and pounding that little nub of nerves deep inside, until Mr. Wooster
shuddered violently, cried out, and fountained his release onto the
black shirt I still wore.
The sight of him in climax, in
addition to the feel of his muscles spasming around my flesh, threw me
over the peak and into sheer ecstasy. I joined in Mr. Wooster's
orgasmic shouts, yelling my love for him without fear of who might be
listening for the first time in my life. I thrust hard into him,
lifting both of us off the sandy beach. I poured myself into him --
heart, soul, and seed -- and nearly wept with the intensity of my joy.
We
strained against each other for long moments. Our hips kept moving in
rhythm until Mr. Wooster fell forward onto my chest, utterly exhausted
and panting heavily. I wrapped my arms around his naked back and held
him tightly until our shaking subsided.
As I stroked his smooth
shoulders and back, I could feel Mr. Wooster relax against me. My own
erection softened and I lifted his hips just enough to slip from his
body. Exhaustion from the long trip and our emotionally energetic
lovemaking combined to defeat any attempt to remain conscious. We fell
asleep in the bright sunshine with the sound of the ocean caressing our
ears.
---------
I could hear my name being whispered
from what seemed to be a very long way off. I struggled to open my eyes
against the dazzling sunlight only to find Mr. Wooster's handsome face
looming over mine. He smiled and kissed me gently before pressing his
lips against my ear.
"The water looks very inviting, old thing," he said. "Would you care for a swim?"
He
sat up and I saw he was still wearing the remains of his costume. I
smiled a little at the sight of him, straddling my hips and wearing
nothing but a short skirt and knee-length boots. He blushed a little
under my warm regard.
"I suppose I look quite ridiculous," he
said as he fumbled at the skirt's fastening. "Probably a silly chance
to take, being half naked and debauched out on a beach, what? If anyone
came by, they'd be disgusted by the picture the old Wooster corpus
makes."
At times, Mr. Wooster requires the same reassurance that
I do. I stilled his fidgeting hands with one of my own and cupped his
cheek with the other.
"You are beautiful, sir, and will always be so to me," I said. "Especially
after our lovemaking. You are every fantasy I have ever had. Nothing
you do or say could ever be regarded as silly or disgusting. I love
you, sir."
At that, his features relaxed and he bent to kiss me
thoroughly, his tongue sliding over and around my own. I felt my body
stir in response to him, and I knew he felt it, too. He planted his
hands on the sand on either side of my head and grinned at me.
"Before
we start rolling round on the beach again, what about a bit of a swim?"
he asked. "Then you can let me have my way with you again."
"Your way with me?" I said, smiling back at him. "We shall see about that."
He
rolled off me then and pulled off one of his long boots. The other boot
came off easily and he tossed that aside, along with the skirt. He
stood naked before me then, his hairless body firm and proud, and
covered now in sand. He raised his long arms above his head and
stretched, and I could hear vertebrae pop. I also caught a glimpse of
the mess between his buttocks. I felt a throb of arousal in my groin,
as I always did when I saw my own seed leaking from his body. It was a
visual reminder that he was mine and appealed to me at a primal level.
Mr.
Wooster dropped his arms and looked over his shoulder at me. I stood
and returned the easy smile he gave me. For a moment, I thought he
would draw me into his arms and kiss me again, but he didn't. "Last one
in is a rotten egg!" he yelled and sprinted for the water.
Once
again, I could do nothing but follow him. In truth, there was nothing
else I would have done, even given the opportunity. I divested myself
of my own ruined costume and went after him.
The water felt like
warm silk against my skin. Mr. Wooster was already in the water up to
his waist when he turned around and beckoned me to him.
"Come on, Jeeves!" he shouted. "The water's lovely!"
And so are you,
I thought, suddenly happier than I had ever been in my life. I waded
toward him, splashing water on my arms and chest to rid myself of the
sand that had crept into my clothing and stuck to my body. The salt
water felt invigorating, and I had an incredible urge to taste it on my
lover's skin.
Mr. Wooster submerged himself as I reached him,
but stood upright within seconds. He lifted his arms to run his fingers
through his soaking hair, and I watched, transfixed, as the water
sluiced down his hairless chest. He had no idea of his own beauty, of
his own perfect form. I didn't resist the urge to take him into my arms
and press my mouth against the wet skin of his neck.
Mr. Wooster
sighed, his pleasure in my touch obvious. He wound his arms around my
neck and pulled me toward him, urging me to move deeper into the water.
He stopped when the gentle waves lapped at our chests and placed his
wet hand on my face and looked at me intently, as if trying to memorize
my nondescript features. He smiled gently, then pressed his lips to
mine. His mouth opened to accept my invading tongue, and soon the tiny
moans of pleasure that I never tired of hearing issued from the back of
his throat. I slid my hands down his slick back to his buttocks, the
warm water making his skin feel as smooth as glass. His hips twitched
as I stroked them, and he twisted his body in an attempt to feel my
hands against the bare skin surrounding his manhood.
I slid
one hand between his legs and caressed his scrotum, my mouth swallowing
an especially loud groan. He pushed himself against me, his movements
desperate and needy. I would have taken him then and there, in that
wonderfully warm surf, but I suddenly wanted to have him laid out in
front of me on our wonderfully soft bed.
I pulled my my mouth
away from his, ignoring his moan of displeasure. "Sir," I said against
his ear, "there is a rather large and serviceable bed in the house. I
would like to make love to you there, in a place where we have all the
time and comfort we need to savor and love one another."
Mr.
Wooster bit my shoulder, then soothed the sting with his busy tongue.
"How could I say no to that? But promise me, Jeeves, that we will make
love in the water at least once before we leave. You feel absolutely
corking against me out here."
"In the moonlight, perhaps?" I asked. "I would enjoy seeing your wet skin under the light of the full moon."
"Yes. Oh, yes."
"Then
let us return to the house, sir. I will prepare us a light repast while
you bathe. And then I shall eat it off your stomach." I kissed him on
the the tip of his nose, noticing it was slightly pink from the sun.
"It is time to go inside at any rate, sir. We must guard against
sunburn since your fair skin is unaccustomed to the sun's intensity."
We
waded back toward the shore, taking our time and deliberately talking
about everything but what we intended to do with each other once we
reached the cottage. We gathered the shreds of our costumes as well as
the rapiers and entered the small foyer. It was much cooler there, and
I wasted no time in directing Mr. Wooster toward the bathroom. I pulled
on the dressing gown that I had hung behind the door and drew a warm
bath for my lover.
Once he was settled, I kissed his cheek and
made my way to the kitchen. I filled a large bucket with warm water,
and, using some of the soap flakes meant for the washing up, proceeded
to scrub off the sand and sticky film the salt water had left on my
skin. When this was done, I donned my dressing gown once more and
proceeded to peel and slice the vast variety of fruit we had stopped to
purchase on our way to the secluded little house. With the ease of long
practice, I prepared mangoes, cantaloupe, pineapple and oranges. I then
mixed a fruit punch that I knew would restore us after spending so much
time in the hot Cuban sun.
I arranged a tray and carried it into
the bedroom, depositing it on the bedside table. Mr. Wooster was still
in the bathroom, and I hoped he hadn't fallen asleep in the tub. I
entered the small room quietly, not wishing to startle him. He was no
longer in the tub but was standing beside it, wincing as he tried to
move his arms.
"Jeeves," he said. "My back hurts a bit. I'm not sure what's wrong."
He
turned around to show me. His skin was flushed an angry pink from his
shoulders to his waist, with the exception of what looked like two
large hand prints in the middle of his back. I wanted to laugh, but
didn't have the heart to do so. I had been sunburned on several
occasions and knew how uncomfortable it could be.
"Sir, it
appears you have a slight sunburn. If you will allow me, I will fetch
some leaves of the aloe vera plant that is growing outside the front
door."
"Jeeves, I'm not sure how a bally plant will help, but if it will, then I'm all for it."
I nodded. "Please excuse me for a moment, sir."
I
cut several large leaves and hurried back to Mr. Wooster. He was
standing naked beside the bed now, still trying to flex his arms.
"This
isn't much fun, this sunburn thingummy," he said. His expression was
apologetic. "I'm sorry, Jeeves. I know we wanted to make love, but I
think my back hurts too much to lay on it."
"Never fear, sir," I
said, keeping my own disappointment at bay. "The substance secreted by
the aloe vera plant should soothe most of the sting. And," I said,
taking him gently into my arms, "we have two weeks in which to make
love. An evening of abstinence will only make us desire each other more.
"Now,"
I said, letting him go before he felt the rise of my desire against his
thighs, "if you will lay down on your stomach, sir, I will apply the
aloe vera to your sunburn."
Mr. Wooster lay carefully face down
on the middle of the bed. His skin had reddened even more and was now
the color of a newly ripe tomato. "Oh, sir," I breathed in sympathy,
for I knew how painful the sunburn must be.
"It's not that bad,
Jeeves," my master assured me as he settled his cheek on his folded
hands. However, the tension around his eyes belied his words.
Quickly,
I squeezed the aloe vera leaves I held until the clear gel inside
filled my palm. Discarding the leaves, I climbed onto the bed and
straddled Mr. Wooster's thighs. With smooth, light touches, I spread
the cool gel over his back. He sighed blissfully under my hands.
"Oh, that feels bally wonderful!" he exclaimed, with a pleased wiggle.
"I
am glad the sensation is a pleasant one." I continued to work the
soothing gel into his skin until he glistened and I found my hands
wandering down toward his tempting buttocks. My fingers delved between
the halves and barely touched his anus.
"Oh," Mr. Wooster
exclaimed again, and this time, his voice held a different note. He
sounded slightly breathless and not a little aroused. With difficulty,
I removed my hands from those firm globes of flesh and sat back on my
heels. "Does that--" I had to break off and swallow hard a few times
until I could speak without the low growl of desire in my voice. "Does
that meet with your satisfaction, sir?"
"It would have if you hadn't stopped, Jeeves, you blasted tease!" he cried.
I
could not help myself. I laughed quietly and playfully slapped my hand
against one buttock. Mr. Wooster moaned under me and wiggled once more.
As tantalizing as that was to behold, I forced myself to turn my
attention to the plate of fruit sitting on our bedside table. "Would
you care for some fruit, sir?"
"I'd care for you to put those fingers inside me."
My
erection throbbed behind the material of my dressing gown, and I almost
cupped myself before I remembered the gel on my hands. Leaning over the
edge of the bed, I picked up Mr. Wooster's bath towel from where he had
dropped it on the floor and wiped myself clean. After untying my
dressing gown and allowing my erection to rise against my stomach
unhindered, I reached for the platter of fruit. I picked up a juicy
chunk of pineapple and held it before my lover's lips. "But, sir," I
said. "The morning's exertions have surely left you parched. Some fruit
and punch would restore you." I rubbed the bit of pineapple against his
lips. His tongue emerged, licking the juice from his skin, then he
nibbled the bit from my fingers.
Mr. Wooster hummed in appreciation as he chewed the pineapple. "That is bally marvellous," he said after he finally swallowed the tit-bit.
"Yes,
sir. The fruit here far surpasses what is available in England." I
picked up a piece of mango and fed it to him, pleased at how he seemed
to be enjoying the treat. This continued for some minutes, me
alternating between feeding him and myself until we were both quite
covered in juice and he was sucking my fingers more often than he was
eating.
Finally, I could resist the temptation no longer and
bent forward to taste his sticky lips against my own. His tongue
eagerly met mine and we kissed deeply. I let the passion carry me away
and leaned too far forward, putting pressure on my lover's burned back.
He gasped against my mouth in pain. I pulled away and immediately
apologised.
Mr. Wooster hastened to reassure me that he was
fine. "But as I said before, darling, I'm afraid the lovemaking will
have to wait," he said sadly.
I smiled at him fondly. "Not at
all, sir. You'll just have to remain on your stomach. Or, perhaps, on
your hands and knees...?" I lifted one eyebrow and allowed my lips to
quirk into a sly smile. Mr. Wooster grinned and began to scramble into
position. I moved off his legs and allowed him to kneel before me. As
soon as he was situated, I spread his buttocks and applied my tongue to
his hole.
The taste of the aloe vera plant ruined my enjoyment
of my master's skin. I resisted the urge to spit the foul taste from my
mouth and reached instead for an especially juicy orange slice.
Squeezing it gently between my fingers, I let the tangy juice drip down
Mr. Wooster's spine and into the cleft of his buttocks, washing away
the residue of the aloe vera. I dropped the pulpy remains onto his
orifice and pressed it slightly inside him. Mr. Wooster shivered.
Whether it was from arousal or the cold fruit on sensitive skin, I did
not know. Before the orange could warm to his body temperature, I bowed
my head and ate it off his skin.
"Oh, Lord, Jeeves!" Mr. Wooster
cried out. His hands clenched in the bed clothes and his knuckles
whitened as I licked up all traces of the juice, slipping my tongue
inside him several times as I did so. When his skin was clean, I
reached for a piece of cantaloupe and repeated the process. Then again
with a mango. Then again with another orange slice. As I reached for
another piece of fruit, Mr. Wooster broke.
"Dammit, Jeeves!" he
yelled. "Enough! Bugger me already!" He was shaking and gleaming with
sweat. Every muscle in his body clenched and released with the motion
of my tongue on and inside him.
By this time, my own prick was
urgently demanding release, so I was eager to oblige him. However, I
was lacking a crucial necessity. "Sir, the oil is still--"
"To hell with the oil, Jeeves, just fuck me!"
My
lover very rarely uses such vulgar terms in describing our coupling.
That he did so then only illustrated how eager he was for my cock
inside him. My hips jerked of their own volition at the sheer lust that
slammed through my body. I found myself clutching Mr. Wooster's hips
and grinding my arousal against his buttocks. "Sir! Oh, sir," I moaned.
"When you say such things, I lose all control."
"Good," he returned, his voice rough with lust. "I want you now, Jeeves! Please!"
It
is true that I have taken Mr. Wooster with minimal lubrication on
previous occasions. In fact, the last time that he donned the costume
of a female, I made quite vigorous love to him with nothing but his own
come to slick my way. However, I have never had him without something
to make our joining easy and pleasant for us both. With Mr. Wooster on
his knees before me and begging for my cock, though, I came perilously
close to just shoving my way inside him and damning the consequences.
In
the end, reason prevailed. I left the bed to shed my dressing gown and
retrieve the used aloe vera leaves, much to Mr. Wooster's discontent. I
was behind him once more before he could finish his complaint and
squeezed the leaves over him until the cleft of his arse was filled
with the clear gel. I quickly prepared him with two fingers thrust into
his hole, then coated myself in the aloe. "Spread wider for me, sir," I
rasped. Mr. Wooster spread his knees wider, and I fit my groin to his
backside.
I thought briefly of teasing him, of brushing just the
head of my cock against his puckered opening until he was sobbing and
pleading for me to bugger him, but I knew that I did not currently have
the self-control for that. Instead, I fit the head to his hole and
pushed with my hips, breaching him and sliding completely inside in one
stroke.
Under me, Mr. Wooster groaned and dropped his head and
shoulders to the bed. "Yes, yes," he chanted as his fingers clenched
and unclenched in the sheets. "Oh, it's so good! Love having you in me,
Jeeves."
"Love you," I gasped in return and began to fuck.
Mr.
Wooster was still loose from our earlier activities on the beach and
from my tongue inside him only moments before. Therefore, I felt no
hesitation in beginning with a hard and fast rhythm designed to bring
us both to a quick climax. Mr. Wooster took up the rhythm eagerly and
thrust back against me with wild cries of pleasure. From long years of
practice, I knew that this was a good angle for him and aimed slightly
downwards in order to hit against his prostate on every thrust. He
greatly appreciated this and began swearing in a most ungentlemanly way.
The vulgarities falling from his normally sweet and polite lips made me ache
for orgasm. I could feel my testicles draw up in preparation and knew
it would not be much longer. I reached around his right hip and slid my
hand up his inner thigh until I could cup his own smooth and hairless
testicles in my palm. I rolled them there for a few seconds before
moving my hand to his shaft. The hot skin was slick with his
pre-ejaculate, and I used that fluid as lubricant for quick, tight
strokes of my fist. In under a minute, Mr. Wooster stiffened and
clenched his muscles as orgasm overtook him and his come covered my
fist.
It is difficult to put into words the exquisite pleasure
of being inside my lover as he finds release. His body tightens around
me almost to the point of causing me pain. The clutch of his muscles in
addition to the guttural grunts and groans that he voices is often
enough to send me into my own release, as it was this time. With Mr.
Wooster coating my hand in his semen, I threw my head back and moaned
his name to the ceiling as the ecstasy swelled inside me and finally
burst in an orgasm so intense that I nearly lost consciousness from the
force of it.
Just as I began to fill Mr. Wooster with my seed,
his knees abruptly gave out and he crashed to the bed. I was not quick
enough in following him down, and my cock was ripped from his body. My
hips thrust against the air twice before I had the presence of mind to
wrap a hand around myself and milk my prick through the rest of my
climax. Though my hand was not as satisfying as being buried balls-deep
in Mr. Wooster's tight body, my climax raged through me, leaving me
shaking and mewling my lover's name. White fluid showered down onto Mr.
Wooster's buttocks and thighs, the sight of which caused more bolts of
lust to shoot through my body.
As I came down from the
blissful high, I fell forward, catching myself on one hand next to Mr.
Wooster's head so that I did not fall against his burned skin and cause
him pain. I gasped for breath and blinked rapidly to clear my fuzzy
vision. I surveyed Mr. Wooster's semen-streaked skin with pride and
possessive lust. He looked absolutely beautiful with my white fluid
decorating his red flesh. I felt a pang of regret, however, that none
of the fluid had been released within him. With my free hand, I guided
my prick over Mr. Wooster's trembling buttocks, gathering my come on
its head. Then, I spread his buttocks with my fingers and forced my
shrinking erection back into his hole, pushing my seed deep within him
where it belonged. Mr. Wooster sighed happily, as if he, too, had
missed having my come inside him.
I remained joined with Mr.
Wooster for another minute, rocking my hips against his to prolong the
feelings of ecstasy, until I could no longer hold myself up. I withdrew
from him and fell to his side, exhausted and drenched in sweat from my
exertions. It was a long time before either of us could move.
Eventually,
I rolled onto my side, facing Mr. Wooster, who still lay on his
stomach, his eyes closed. His burned back was still an angry red, but
what continued to draw my attention was the smeared evidence of my
passion that still coated his buttocks and thighs. Between my drying
semen and the residue of the fruit I'd eaten off his body, my lover was
a beautiful mess. I smiled softly in both pride at a job well done and
joy at the knowledge that no one but me had ever seen my master in such
a state.
Despite my exhaustion, I found myself wanting to lick
him clean. However, I pushed aside the primal desire and made to rise
from the bed to get a damp towel, but Mr. Wooster's sleepy voice
arrested me.
"Where do you think you're going, Jeeves?"
I placed my palm on his sticky buttock. "You require attention, sir, before this dries any further."
"Sod all," he said vulgarly and grinned at me. "Does it really matter?"
I thought for only the briefest of seconds. "No, sir, it does not," I said.
"Then do me a favor and come back to bed," he said, closing his eyes once more. "I wish to sleep in your arms, Captain Jeeves."
I
lay back down beside him and pulled his limp body across my chest,
taking extra care with his burned skin. His pressed his ear against my
heart and sighed. "You protected your beach well, Captain Jeeves, and
you've captured the heart of the Dread Pirate Wooster."
I kissed the top of his head. "But you captured mine years ago, sir. I believe that makes us even."
Mr.
Wooster snuggled himself more closely against me and wrapped one arm
around my waist. "I love you, Jeeves. And I do hope you're enjoying
your birthday gift."
I had to blink several times to clear the
moisture that suddenly clouded my vision. Though I knew Mr. Wooster's
heart belonged to me, I still found it difficult at times to believe my
luck. This generous, beautiful man was more than my lover; he was the
other half of my soul. And suddenly the trip didn't matter. What
mattered was holding him in my arms, soothing his hurts, making love
with him, no matter where we were.
"More than you know, Bertie," I said, trying and failing to keep the quaver from my voice. "I love you."
Mr.
Wooster hugged me close and planted a kiss on my chest before turning
his gaze on me. His brilliant blue eyes were warm with affection. "I
love you, too, Reggie." He paused for a moment. "I had a fishing trip
planned for tomorrow. That is, if you want to go."
"I would enjoy that," I said. "Have you hired a crew?"
He nodded.
"Un-hire them," I said as I gently trailed my fingers down his back to his messy buttocks. "You are all the crew I require."
His grin, beautiful and wide, dazzled me. "Aye, aye, Captain Jeeves. Shall I be your first mate?"
I pulled him close and kissed him. "My only mate," I said against his lips. "Forever."