Digital Playground – Pirates porn parody

Ahoy, matey! Grab yer eyepatch and wooden leg, ’cause we be embracin’ the high seas of depravity with Digital Playground’s raunchy “Pirates” porn parody. Right proper seafarin’ grog for any scallywag lookin’ to get their. . . sails raised, if you catch our drift. So batten down the hatches, boys and gals, ’cause this here’s one wild nautical orgy ye won’t be forgettin’ anytime soon.

The tale unfolds on the deck of the Swashbuckle, a filthy pirate galleon where the only rules be “Yo ho” and “Joystick, ho!” Johnny Castle, the swaggerin’ and swashbucklin’ lead buccaneer, is busy polishin’ his weapons belowdecks with Queen Arasika, a ravishing Rapunzel-lookin’ beauty with an insatiable appetite for cock. The buxom lass, sportin’ a classy landing strip that’d make even the most hardened corsair blush, eagerly bobs up and down on Johnny’s hefty plank with gusto.

“Arrr, ain’t ya just the little limpet ye be, ye seductive sea siren!” Johnny cackles, as Arasika takes him hilt-deep in her eagercrease. He grips her flowing, golden tresses, usin’ ’em like a makeshift riding crop as he pistons into her depths, makin’ Arasika mewl and quiver wit’ pleasure.

O’er at the helm, the vessel’s slinky Quartermistress,skinny-dippin’ and athletic India Summer, is busy mouthin’ her own piece of the booty – the mast, ye filthy pole! With lips wrapped ’round the thick, slippery pole o’ pine, India works her jaw and tongue like a deranged dashboard-hatin’ pigeon, droolin’ all over the salty wood.

Suddenly, a musty cannonball sails o’er the railin’, collidin’ with India’s backside and knockin’ the breath from her lungs. She whirls ’round to behold Cap’n “Bullwinkle” Huffinleather, the virile skipper of a rival fleet, approachin’ wit’ a hunger in his eyes and a tent-pole strainin’ in his breeches. The two gainst the railing, with India railed from behind as Bullwinkle slaps her jigglin’ cheeks, poundin’ away as a flock o’ squawkin’ parakeets watches in jealous bewilderment.

Meanwhile, on the lower deck, the Swashbuckler’s saucy deckhand, the amber-haired Alexis Fawx, is plunderin’ the royal treasury – which, in this case, happens to be a rather unsavory dwarven village. The painted lady, ‘taint a full beard she be sportin’, but a pork-pie mustache, of all things! She boldly strides through the cobblestoned streets, past the gawkin’ residents, and into the local pub, where she hops onto the bar and starts servin’ herself up to the slobberin’, gigglin’ patrons.

Every last one o’ the knobby-kneed drunks takes turns sinkin’ their anchors into Alexis’ eagercrease, makin’ the fiery lass cry out in pained ecstasy as she’s crammed again and again like a common cork. The pub erupts in raucous laughter and hearty cheers as Alexis gots herself a proper pluggin’, her own filthy mast slathered in thick, sticky “mastard” oozin’ down her legs.

Afterward, the defeated Swashbuckle is boarded by the fearsome crew of the Smegma Rose. Led by the bearded Cap’n “Rum” Swagger, his mighty jarmin’ enriched by years o’ drunken revelry, the scoundrels force the Swashbuckle’s motley crew to partake in an orgy o’ legendary proportions. The good Captain takes the deck in proper martial order, each wench and preserve serve a purpose, tossin’ aside their clothes and grabbin’ for the salami.

Rum rules the orgy like a proper bird o’ prey, makin’ the buckletoothers bellow and groan as his log gets splintered, tossin’ them this way and that, aghast and spent. The buxom broads of both crews bezel their chances, laughin’ and cryin’ as pent- up tension is released. It be a wild sight, with cocks ‘n cunts mating like rut-crazy bucks.

At the helm, lewd mermaids watch from the waves, their breasts swayin’ in the sea breezes, takin’ stock of the sinking ship now filled to the gunwales with jizz and cum. The Swashbuckle’s crew rowed boats to safety, while the smegma ropes shuttled Rum and Cap’n Johnny to the nearest brothel, proper heroes of the sea, ready for the next moan-huntin’ adventure.

Arrr, that be one wild ‘n raunchy ride, matey! It be a proper shipwreck o’ depravity that’d make even the boldest buccaneer say “Jesus wept!” So hoist the sails, wrestle the sheets, and let slip the moans of war – it be a wild ‘n wooly orgy o’er the cruel, naughty waves, and there be treasure ‘n communicable diseases to be found. Ye be warned, bucko!