The End of His Pirate Days

In lovemaking we rose and fell like the tides -- rising to the swells and spiraling into the eddies. His ruddy face was that of a pirate, a sailor always in search of adventure on the high seas of sexual prowess.

I called out his name in my dreams and quite frankly, walked the plank into orgasmic bliss. In those orgasms, the rainbow exploded and his hold over me was sealed.

What spawned his obsession and fixation with castratoin eluded me. Apparently it began at least 20 years before we ever met. As trust began to grow between us, he revealed more and more. We watched movies on the topic, actual surgeries and read numerous stories and observed pictures of before, during and after the process. Yes, it turned me on probably because I came to love him so deeply that I wanted to share his deepest secrets and feed his desires.

Mind you, Rhys is a very verile man. He is extraordinarily attractive with piercing eyes. He had more women in his life than one could keep track of. Why remove his balls?

"What to do?" I often questioned myself. Either I emesh myself in his exploration or die on the vine with the other discarded mistresses. I chose to throw myself into the topic - researching, making internet friendships with those experiencing the same urgings and then writing stories reflecting our fantasy and journey.

Loving him was like the peeling away of layer upon layer of an onion. It could be sweet, pungent or repelling or just enough to add the right spice to our lovemaking. Ah, but with onions there can be tears.

It was then that I came to know that there were degrees of love and the conclusion I reached was that sometimes the great love of one's life is not meant to last, and that IS WHY it is referred to as the great love because it ends. Never did I want it to end, however, I could see the handwriting on the wall. He was a pirate and his goal was to sail the seas on a new boat and not look back.

He made me feel at home with his glorification of sexuality, always providing a new angle to fucking. It could range from spanking to something called "fisting." All new and alluring to someone who was naive in sexual practices, but a willing pupil. I looked forward to our once-a-month sessions.

I became obsessed with certain knives purchased of course on those cable shopping networks. I had a 4-1/4" deer folder that had some jagged parts and also my elk knife with an 8" blade and a handsome leather hilt that I would attach to the belt loop of my jeans. Rhys'eyes would fixate on it when he walked through my door. And it would make his cock veined and hard. I loved it.

There were times when I didn't hear from Rhys for days. The silence was intolerable. So, I'd act out - taking the alternate knives and slashing the inside of my forearm. Watching the blood leak and experimenting with how far I could penetrate the skin without killing myself. Before he would reappear, the cuts would heal.

An internet friend of mine told me of female cutters in the Vera Cruz outback who, for $100.00 would fuck you, cut off your balss and apply black salve poultices to heal the area and draw out any infection and send you walking gingerly to your Jeep Wrangler two days later as a new eunuch. This was fascinating to me.

There would be no scented sheets or regal ameneties, but contained in this scenario there would be the element of danger, adventure and something the spirit of a pirate would find intoxicating.

It was primitive at best, with chickens and goats abounding. Shacks were their homes, much like our sheds in which we store our lawn mowers. Most of their men were gone for months at a time, working at odd jobs hundreds of miles away. The women had to survive - somehow. I knew I had to survive too and would go to whatever lengths to keep that pirate in my life.

As I was told, Mexican women are tall, heavy bosomed, long, thick dark hair and big lashed eyes. Their lips were full, sensual and inviting. Any pirate would be entralled. By contrast, I was fair, slight, short, a member of the "Itty Bitty Titty Committee", auburn hair and green eyed. Rhys craved the exotic, the unknown, the mysterious. Certainly I was a poor substitute, but I tried....

At our next rendezvous, I dressed in a peasant skirt, white cotton off the shoulder shirt, barefoot and kohled my eyes to make them seem more dramatic. My Elk knife was hitched to the belt adorning my skirt. Rhys was taken with the transformation... "What are you up to, little one?" he questioned, his forefinger under my chin to lift my eyes to him. I could only think of kissing him deeply, feeling his hard tongue invade my each and every wall.

I prepared a dinner of brown (dirty) rice, chicken quesadillas, corn fritters, a flan and homemade sangria (got that off the internet too). He ate and drank heartily, watching me. Our conversation was light but contained sexual overtones.

After dinner we walked out in the woods behind my house and along the bubbling stream. "What is your desire, little one?" he asked. He knew I had planned something. "Rhys, we've got two days together..." I stumbled in my words...."I want to bring your fantasy to life if you'll let me." "Here??" he questioned. "Well, not really... ummm, the shed..." "I've got it all prepared and I promise you'll be safe." I tried to sound solid and committed.

"Safe?" "C'mon what are you up to?" his eyes were serious and that deep steely blue that made me shudder. "Well," I began, "I want to fuck you silly, sit on your face and have you drink our mixed cu and then...well, then...."I hesitated "I'm going to cut off your balls." I didn't want to look at him so I picked up a handfull of pebbles and tossed them into the stream. They were acting as my coins the fountain for good luck. God I needed that.

He grabbed my arm. "Oh you are, are you?" My eyes fluttered at him and found my Irish, "Yep, and then I'm going to put them in our Waterford jar and keep them till I die!" I was emphatic. Curiousity abounded and the bulge in his khaki's spoke of his unbridled excitement. "Show me, " he directed.

My heart was skipping beats as we held hands and walked to the shed. It had been cleaned out, padded with indoor/outdoor carpeting. A thick double mattress was covered in sheared sheep blankets. Good for a fall night. On the workbench sat poultices, the salve, scalpel, sutures, needles an anesthetic, along with rubbing alcolol and extra gloves.

His azure eyes took all this in with long glances toward the tray holding the instruments and our jar. Rhys swirled around and grabbed me by the belt and kissed me heartily and for what seemed like oxygen grabbing minutes. His kisses were the best I'd ever known.

"Yes, yes, little peasant girl, you're ready and so am I." he whispered against my cheek. In the warm fall air we undressed one another with purposefulness and the nervousness of two virgins on an ancient wedding night. My stomach was fluttering. He looked at me like he had never truly seen my body before. His eyes bore into me like his pirate's sword.

"Come to me," he ordered, as he sank into the mattress. Candles were lit and provided a glow of intense lovemaking that would take place before I cut away that which had given me great pleasure and would also wash away the demons that plagued my pirate and his pirate days.

Tentatively, I walked toward him, noticing how hard he had already become, his pre-cum lubricating his cock and glistening in the candlelight. "You want to ride this?" he asked as he pointed to the rigid rod below. "Yes, Oh God Yes, " I responded breathlessly. I was already wet with anticipation and slid easily on the self-guided cock of his. He knew just where I was.

In moments, he was deep inside me, gently pushing against wet welcoming walls, inviting him, as he stroked my back with his fingers. My whole body shivered as he knew I was close. I began to mew and murmur, "mmmmmm,mmmmm, Oh Rhys, I want... I want...,mmmmm" "Come on peasant girl, ride me, cum on my cock," he urged.

It was no sooner that I heard his voice, I shuddered in delicious culmination and he could feel me drip on him. I dismounted and licked my cum from his cock, as it still stiffly dripped. I was in heaven. He pulled at my hips. "Now, sit on my face. I want to taste you," he demanded. "A good little peasant girl does what she's told," he added with a two handed swat to my ass.

I sidled up to his bearded pirate face and straddled his lips. He suckled, licked and bit at my clit, making it inflamed, enlarged and engulfed with the pleasure of it all. His expertise sought out my slit, darting in and out, drinking my pineapple-laced fluid and putting his rough, ringed hand across my pubic bone.

This time of the year, I truly was peasant-like, in that I had a full bush, as well as unshaven underarms. Rhys liked me that way. He tugged at the hairs of my bush and stroked my underarms as if it were mink.

As he drove me into oblivion with his mouth and tongue I once again walked this pirate's plank, wanting to drown myself in carnal bliss, all the time screaming out his name, yet wanting to curse him for his cheating.

It wasn't over yet - our marathon sessions were ones for the books. I grabbed the black elastic band I had purchased and tied up his balls. They resembled a large head of a penis. I ravished them with my tongue and mouth, pinching slightly at the veins. Rhys flipped me onto my back and put a pillow under my ass. He knew what I wanted....Yes, I was so wet and pliable, that with one easy hand he was able to place his balls inside me. Right away, I thrust toward them, feeling their fullness and the beauty of it all. I stroked his still weeping cock and looked deeply into his eyes.

This was an unprecendented session, filled with loud moans an loving words. "Rhys, I love you.. I want to see you cum all over my belly one last time and then....and then....," I heaved "I'm going to take you balls." I pushed against them deeper as I said this. "MMMMM, you are a good peasant girl, and I'll explode all over you and yes, then you can take my balls," Rhys cried out.

Our orgasms were simultaneous as his balls were at critical mass. I could feel the cum about ready to volcanically spout out of him. We thrusted and stroked until we were both panting and screaming out with the intensity. "Oh yes, oh yes, I'm gonnnnnnna cum," and the stream was thick and wild and like a plume, covered my belly everywhere.

I removed his balls from me and untied the black band. We lay back holding one another, sated and mistily glowing in the candlelight and sweat. He tenderly ran his fingers through my hair and I played with his pirate chest hairs and lightly touched his beard. There was quiet and we drifted on our own ships to Winkyn, Blinkin' and Nod land for a half hour. I was buoyed in the ocean and tide of his wonderful lust and passion.

Late evening was approaching. The sun was half-set. The slight chill that pervaded awakened us from a sweet nap. Already his cock was hard again and there was no way I could let that be. I worshiped it with my mouth as he stirred, my fingers clutching at his veined balls, which were amazingly pulpy and filled with his seed. I wanted no more for myself - I only wanted and desired him.

This time I wanted him to cum in my mouth and in his grogginess he pushed my head down hard on that rigid piece of flesh. I milked his cock wrapping my lips around it, delighting hin his moans and the pressure he put on my neck and head. His hands were wide and rough and I loved it.

I began pinching the veins of his balls, ever so lightly, and he reacted by pushing my head so far down on him that his cock touched the back of my throat. It was lusty - it was a frenzy. My thighs were drenched with my own excitement. I felt him insert fingers into the wetness and I moved in rythym with them. He burst his seed into my hot mouth as I was reacting to the manipulation of the places inside me.

He came with deep staccato words and I growled and whimpered as my mouth was filled with him. I swallowed and moved up to hug him. He kissed my cheeks and forehead.

"Now, it's time, my pirate," I announced. Rhys looked quizzically at me. "Really, now?" "Yes, it's all ready." "Do you know what you're doing," he asked. "Of course, steady on, pirate, you know I'm a fast learner." I offered quite tartly. "What first?" he asked.

I got up to go to the tray and filled a syringe with anesthesia, remembering to flick the needle to prevent air bubbles. I held it up. "Well, first we inject this in a few places. Pirates can handle a pinch or so, right?" I approached him and wiped the area clean with alcohol preps.

Referring to my notes, I injected the needle into several different places along the groin area and then to the testicles themselves. Rhys winced but never said a word.

I went to the workbench and retrieved a carafe of sangria laced with valuium and poured the parched pirate a drink. I brought it to his lips. "Arrggg, a tankard from my peasant lass, thank ye" he joked. "Aye, and you might want to drink greedily you scallywag!" I lilted in my best Irish mimicry.

The anethesia began to do it's magic and so did the sangria. Rhys emptied an 8 oz. glass and was woozy. I threw on my skirt and blouse for warmth and then on top a blue long hospital gown. I slowly lifted his buttocks to place a large telfa pad underneath. I glanced at the jar sitting and waiting on the workbench. "Soon, soon, they'll be mine." I thought with clenched fists.

I went to him. "Rhys, are you okay? Are you comfortable?" "mmmm, yes, I'm ready," was his groggy reply. "Okay, then this the moment." and I held up the scalpel in my gloved hands. Rhys' eyes grew wide. I went to him again and kissed his sangria lips..."My pirate, you are one of a chosen few. I wanted to be the one to do this for you." I held the scalpel to my lips and kissed it religiously. This would be the greatest artistry of my whole life.

I blessed myself with the sign of the cross before I made the first incision. It had to be perfect. Satisfyingly enough the skin was easy to break through. My notes were at the bottom of the bed to my right. "Okay," I said aloud, "You can do this."

I decided to cut him "around" and not "up and through". His taped penis was still semi-erect and pushing on his belly. His balls were tied with string, aching to be released from his captor. I mused about all the other women in his life and gloated that I held out and would be the one to free him.

As flesh was cut away, I marveled at the texture, lack of blood flow and the actual piece that provides life, pleasure and children. After removing the first testicle, I held it to his bleary eyes. "See? See, that's YOU.." I was gushing with pride. He looked at me - "Everything going okay? Can I touch it?" he asked. I put it in Rhys' hand. He clutched it - feeling the meatiness of it, his own flesh. I walked again to the theatre to remove the second testicle. This one took longer and I had to refer to my notes regarding it's safe removal. There seemed to be a "bleeder" so I had to grab a clamp to cut that off and then remove all the core around it.

I couldn't resist after stitching him. Hey, I'm no Betsy Ross, either, but as I looked at the still-numbed area. I carved an "A" for my name between his legs. Now everyone and anyone would know I'd been there. As a pirate marks his treasure with an "X", I would take "A" and be my own privateer.

Gently, I swabbed him with antiseptic. He held both balls in his hands, whispering who knows what, to who knows who - perhaps his god of the sea...

Holding his head I forced some more sangria down his throat so he would sleep. I whispered to him, "I love you, my pirate, you pillager and the Bluebeard of my life."

I applied the black salve to the entire scrotal area and groin and covered it with the telfas to make the poultice. The black salve would absorb any infection.

I lit the kerosene lamps and tucked him under the heavy sheepskin covers. I set my watch to beep every hour so I could check Rhys' blood pressure and condition. It was difficult to ply his testicles from his grip, but I did so and placed them in my jar. The jar that was faceted with jade and crystal. His balls gleamed inside as I turned them round and round, floating as they were, like a child fascinated with a kaliedescope.

I cradled his tired head and began to softly sing to him and tears flowed, as I pulled the covers over me. "This was the last time I felt this near to whispered ecstasy. And those who need adventure, they can sail the seven seas. And those who search for treasure they must live on grander dreams. Since then I came to the end of my pirate days."

The End