Languishing in the elaborate armchair, Jack caressed the soft hair of the head taking Jack to places he'd never been before. No manner of ship could take him beyond the horizon the way those soft lips and the wicked tongue did, dancing on his manhood, pulling sighs and near sobs from the pirate.
His breath harsh, the words meant as whisper came as a whimper, when delicate hands found their where to right there…
To veer his mind from a rather unfortunate premature accident, Jack, laboriously, thought the chair being the best thing he'd ever looted. Well, right after Elizabeth.