Legs opened like sails, on board The Carnal Promise.

The Captain never felt a breeze as bold, as salty as her first mate’s musk.  

Tricorn hat hung on hard nipple, the writhing first mate, writhed in time with the sea’s sighs and swells. 

Above deck, unable to help himself, the crewman ordered to take the wheel, shoved his hand down his trousers,  keeping one hand at the wheel, as the other finger-flicked his own clittoral captain to sing an orgasmic sea shanty of his own.