Your erotic stories

Too many erotic stories. Erotic stories free to watch. Only the best porn stories and sex stories


BadFairGoodInterestingSuper Total 0 votes

I looked on in horror at what had just happened. All my attempts to keep my true identity secret had been snatched from me in that one cold moment when Charles Wild, Skipper of the Golden Eagle, grabbed my shirt and it came away in his hands.

His eyes focused on the bindings that held my breasts in place to give the impression I was a boy. I saw the lust in his eyes and realised I could no longer hide under the name of Jack Jones.

My greater fear was that I would be exposed as Rose Turner; eighteen year old daughter of Robert Turner hanged, drawn and quartered by the King’s men for refusing to recognise Anne Boleyn as the lawful Queen of England.

As Wild stared at me I knew I was faced with a choice. I could either come willingly to his bed or he would hand me over to the authorities as soon as we returned to London. Without a shadow of a doubt I would die a painful death because not only was I a Catholic, I had also killed one of Cromwell’s men when they came into our home to arrest my father.

The King had passed a decree that anyone who would not accept the validity of his marriage to Anne Boleyn and his authority as head of the Church in England would be guilty of high treason. Already Sir Thomas More and Bishop Fisher had paid with their lives and now anyone who publicly shared their views was in danger.

London was a difficult place to grow up in and I recall how I used to be teased by other girls because of how I dressed. I had always been what you could term a “Tomboy” dressing in boys clothes because I found dresses hindered me when playing boy’s games. I remember my father once chiding me for being too unfeminine and telling me I would never get a husband or have children to ease the loss brought upon him when my mother died giving birth to me. I remember turning on him and saying “Dad, that’s not me. I’m not that type of girl.”

My Father was a Tanner who made his living turning leather into sandals and saddles which, from the age of twelve I would take to the market to sell.

Children can be cruel when they sense someone is different to them. Often I would come home to find rubbish had been tipped into our garden and I had to clean it. On other occasions the boys would try to disrupt my work and that is how I learned to fight. Many times my father would be visited by angry parents whose son had been given a black eye by his daughter. We made enemies that way and those enemies were swift to inform on my father’s views.

One afternoon I came home from market to find the King’s men at our house. My father was already in chains and I knew I would soon follow. Seeing a large stone on the ground I picked it up and threw it at one of the men holding my father. I can still hear the crack as his skull opened like an egg shell and blood and brains gushed from the wound as he fell to the ground dying. My father shouted for me to run and I managed to escape to a side tavern where I hid in the cellar for days feeding on the foul rubbish tipped onto the floor by those who ate there. I was fourteen years old, homeless and orphaned.

One of the customers was Charles Wild and one night I overheard him saying he needed a new cabin boy. In the cellar I found some bindings with which I bound my growing breasts firmly beneath my shirt and as Wild was leaving I stepped out and approached him. He looked at me seriously and for a moment I thought he had discovered my secret. He asked my age and questioned why didn’t even have any facial stubble.

Then said he didn’t care what I looked like as long as I could do the work. He hired me for one voyage to Calais to see how I worked. He must have been impressed because I stayed for four years. During that time my body completed its transformation. My breasts grew even larger so my bands became tighter and every month I had to endure my monthly cycle while ensuring there was no evidence.

Sometimes when we were in port the men would go ashore chasing women or visiting the brothels. Many times I was encouraged to join them but I was able to make an excuse by saying I needed the money to save for my wedding to a fictitious girl.

While others went ashore I earned extra money by washing the decks and cleaning Wild’s quarters. I cooked for him, cleaned for him and slept in a hammock above his bed every night as he brought different women into his bed and satisfied his lust. He had no shame and would tell his whores I was the only virgin in his crew and was allowed to watch so I could get a worldly education. Sometimes he would ask me if I wanted to share one of his women but respected me when I said I only had desires for one girl.

The day I was exposed as a girl began like any other. There was some unrest among the crew because they had heard there was another possibility of war between England and France and some feared the ship could be attacked. We had just set sail from Calais and were due to be in London three days later. There were rumours the King sought to requisition some of the Merchant ships and we would be boarded on our return. Wild held a paper in his hand that said he would be paid for each man he could release for the Navy and while some agreed to go others were not interested including me for obvious reasons.

There was treble money on offer for any captain who gave the Navy a man under the age of twenty one. I refused to agree and Wild turned and locked the door refusing to let me leave until I made my mark on the paper. A struggle took place during which I managed to throw the pen on the floor. Then as Wild grabbed me my shirt came away and my identity was exposed.

His mind went back to four years before as his eyes narrowed and he said “You’re that girl! The one everyone was talking about. Do you know how much trouble you could cause for me?” I shook my head as my eyes filled with tears and he continued “But, maybe we can come to some arrangement that will satisfy both of us.”

He emphasised the word ‘satisfy’ and I knew exactly what he wanted. My mind raced ahead and I wondered how he would treat my virginity. “I’ve … I’ve never been with a man” I struggled to say “I’m not like that … I wouldn’t know what to do.” My mouth became dry and my heart began to thump as I came to terms with reality.

“You should know what to do” Wild responded “you’ve seen it enough times.” Then a smile bowed his lips as he continued “but you haven’t seen me take a virgin have you? I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

“I’ll fight you!” I threatened “You won’t enjoy it … you know who I am and my reputation. I fight better than a lot of men. And you know I have killed before”.

“That just shows how little you know little one” Wild said as he moved towards me “virginity is so highly prized most men would enjoy the struggle.” He grabbed me and pushed me to the ground before turning and ensured the door was still locked. “And I wouldn’t shout for help if I was you” he said firmly “if you do I’ll throw you to the men and you would be dead by tonight after over fifty horny cocks have had their way in your womb.”

Getting up I knew I was about to become a woman before I had even had time to be a girl. “Please don’t make me do this” I begged “I don’t want a baby. Please, please don’t!”

“A baby might save your life” Wild said “the King won’t execute a pregnant woman or a nursing mother.” He advanced on me and reached upwards to untie my hair that cascaded down my back. He pulled me to him and his mouth claimed mine. I spluttered and fought trying to push him away but he reached for the tapes and released my breasts.

“Just think” he said as he stood back admiring them “no hand has ever touched those rose bud nipples.” Instead of coming towards me he took his shirt off exposing his hairy muscular chest.

“No!” I said in shock “I beg you, don’t … no!” I looked in stunned horror as his hands went down to his breaches and released them. There in front of me was the erect leaking shaft that would wrench my virginity from me. Again I said “This isn’t me, I’m not like this.”

Wild jumped at me, spun me round and pushed me onto the bed. Forcing himself on top of me I felt his hands begin to caress my breasts and a strange unfamiliar sensation began to arise. My previously untouched nipples began to harden and I felt my heart beat quicken. “Please … no … stop” I couldn’t complete the sentence because my mouth was taken again by his and to my shock and horror I found myself groaning as the warm thrill in my nipples began to travel down my body to my stomach and then ‘down there’! Something inside me wanted Wild to touch me ‘there’.

Wild produced a knife and with it sliced through my breaches exposing my sex. I struggled as he tore at the waste strap and ripped them away. Again he kissed me and took my right hand and guided down to his cock. “I can’t do this” I said as I tried to get off the bed but he was too strong and held me firm.

“Are you really a virgin?” he asked. “Someone must have had you surely” then he kissed my left nipple making it stand hard as he took a gentle bite with his teeth. “But there is a way to find out isn’t there?” he asked with a tease and I found myself nodding agreement as he placed my hand on his leaking cock.

Next his hand found my pubic hair and with his middle right finger he engaged my slit. I had never even touched myself down there so I had no idea what to expect as I felt his finger invade and I was strangely curious.

“Please … no … no …” I struggled to protest as it felt so right to be touched there. “I … I’m not that type of girl” I sighed as he manoeuvred himself until his shaft was above my entrance. “I … can’t …” I felt my pubic hair bristle as slowly he began to enter.

As I felt him up against my hymen his eyes narrowed “It seems you are a virgin” he said as he pulled back and held my gaze before ramming forward tearing my innocence from me “or you were!” he said as I screamed in pain. I felt it rip and there was a warm feeling down there as my virgin blood began to leak on to the bedding.

“I begged you” I sobbed “I pleaded with you not to do this.” Wild allowed me to adjust to the pain before beginning to slowly move up and down, in and out. “Now … please, please don’t spill inside me. I can’t have a baby.”

By now he was moving steadily and a strange sensation began to build. I found my hips were moving in unison with his thrusts and the pain which had been intense was being replaced by a dull ache. I began to hold onto his hips to ensure he remained in place because of a primeval fear he would leave me before fulfilment.

I knew without being told that he was near to spilling his seed and to my horror the muscles deep inside my sex clamped hard on his shaft to ensure they milked him of every single sperm. Then it happened! The pain was gone and I found myself raising my hips to him. A warm glow began to build as I embraced my first ever orgasm.

A thrill no words can describe built in my womb before gushing forth into my sex accompanied by an explosion of love juice that bathed his shaft preparing him for his fulfilment. At the same time my nipples became rock hard against his chest and in one single scream I called his name out loud. As I did his cock became rock hard, twitched and then exploded inside me.

His seed rushed forth over powering my juices before accompanying them into my untouched womb. My muscles held firm as I bucked against him allowing wave after wave to splash deep inside me as I screamed in such intensity of pleasure I thought I would die.

Whether our orgasms faded or I passed out in passion I do not know. But I found myself lying gently in his arms as his tender lips soothed my forehead. Eventually we had to get up and as I did small remnants of his spent semen together with my own juices and virgin blood ran down my legs.

All that happened twenty years ago. Wild and I stayed together and managed to make our way to Scotland where we married. We now have seven children, the first, my beautiful daughter Alice, I believe was conceived that night.

Sometimes I think back and recall the conversation I had with my father all those years ago when he said I would one day have a husband and many children. I recall my response “Dad, that’s not me. I’m not that type of girl.”

How wrong can a girl be?

BadFairGoodInterestingSuper Total 0 votes

Leave a Reply* Marked items are required