Pirate Dave and his Randy Adventures (Career Ending Romance Spoof)

BOOK: Pirate Dave and his Randy Adventures (Career Ending Romance Spoof)
Table of Contents

Title Page

Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures




Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

More about Robyn Peterman

Excerpt from “How Hard Can It Be?”

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Books by Robyn Peterman

About the Author


Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures


A randy spoof




Robyn Peterman




Copyright 2013 by Robyn Peterman


Cover by Rebecca Poole


Edition License Notice


This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should delete it from your device and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.


This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is coincidental.


This book contains content that may not be suitable for young readers 17 and under.




Thanks to all the porno grannies who helped me. I love each and every one of you!! Writing a book may be a solitary sport, but there is no way in hell it can be done alone.


Thank you to Rebecca Poole for the amazing cover. It’s like you crawled inside my warped brain and pulled out an image!


My beta readers (and dear friends) Candace, Donna, Jim, Kim, Kris, Jowanna, Moni and JM. You guys rock. You have talked me down and cheered me up. I adore you!


Thank you JM Madden, Donna McDonald and Christi Main-Ehrlich for your editing eyeballs! You all make me look like a far better writer than I am!


Thank you Kris for teaching me how to cut and paste, my website, blog, news letter, promo stuff . . . and the list goes on.


A big ginormous thank you goes to the brilliant authors JM Madden and Donna McDonald. Formatting, hand holding, cheerleading . . . I love and admire both of you.


And last, but not least, my family. My super hot hubby and my amazing and wonderful kids. None of this matters without you! 1-4-3




For all of my readers who lovingly threatened me to write this! I haven’t laughed so hard writing anything . . . ever!




After all was said and done, the disgusting novella meant to destroy a story stealing New York Time’s best-selling author’s career was successful. Rena Gunderschlict, an accountant with no discernible literary talent, and her band of adorable porno writing grannies came up with the worst piece of literature, (and I use that word loosely), that was ever written. Amazingly enough, it became a cult classic. Who in the hell knew there was an underground need to know and love a Time-Traveling Vampire Warlock with erectile dysfunction and his conjoined lady loves, Laverne and Shirley?

Apparently the need is there and now so is the full version of their story . . .

** Special Note from Author Robyn Peterman **


This is a spoof. A profane romance spoof not meant for anyone under 18. I was threatened lovingly and repeatedly by my readers to write the full version of Pirate Dave. He was born of the need to create a horrific career ending romance novel to destroy a really bad, nasty villainess . . . and Thank you Buddha in a tube top, it worked! I laughed my way through writing this and I hope you will enjoy this small slice of my warped brain. NO, this is not what I normally write, but I certainly had a good time penning it! If you want to read the real romance story, you’ll have to peruse HOW HARD CAN IT BE? You’ll find the first three chapters at the end of the hot mess you’re about to read . . . And now, I give you the career ending novella, (hopefully not mine) otherwise known as PIRATE DAVE AND HIS RANDY ADVENTURES.

Chapter One


“Jesus Christ in a miniskirt,” Pirate Dave bellowed as the violent wind blew his matted hair into his eyes practically blinding him. Why the hell did a storm blow up every time he was about to get laid? The ship bucked like a horny bronco on the choppy green sea. The sky burned with a raging passion that rivaled his Johnson in his breeches. He grabbed the railing of the ship for purchase. “What in the hell is going on?”

“An earthquake,” squealed Crooked Jim, “and it’s a mother fucker!”

The motley crew scampered around the deck like clumsy asshole ninjas. They shrieked like girls and ran for cover.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” Dave muttered as he grabbed the wheel of the ship and headed for port.

The sea might have been angry, but the land was no kinder. The ground groaned and buckled beneath his boots. If that three-eyed fortune teller was yanking his chain, he would personally remove his man-bits with a dull butter knife. That stinky bastard had sworn Dave would find the most beautiful horny woman in the world . . . right here in Sydney, Australia. Of course the asshat had forgotten to mention that Dave would have to fight a deadly earthquake to reach his poontang. Whatever. He’d faced much worse. Like the hairless Catholic hookers who shape shifted into sex-addicted groundhogs. They posed as nuns by day. The convent doubled as a bordello. He’d had many randy, yet life threatening, nights with those bible thumping whores. Ahh, good times. Good times.

Pirate Dave, followed by part of his trusty crew, Hairy Sam and Hook, walked right into the mansion described by the fortune teller. He spit on his hand and slicked his greasy hair back while quickly diving to his right to avoid the chandelier falling from the ceiling. Jesus Christ, why in the hell hadn’t that stupid seer given him a weather report. Was that too fucking much to ask?

“Where is she?” Hairy Sam yelled as the roof began to cave in.

“The fuck if I know,” Pirate Dave shouted, hopping over empty broken chairs and empty broken tables. “Let’s try upstairs.”

“There are no stairs,” Hook said pointing at the splintered mass of lumber that somewhat resembled steps. “Let’s get out of here!”

“Absolutely not,” Pirate Dave roared. “I am a Time-Traveling Vampire Warlock! Stairs are for assmonkeys!”

Hairy Sam and Hook trembled in abject terror and wonder as Dave flew up the former staircase like a drunken bat. Last time Dave had flown, he’d accidentally time-travelled to the prehistoric era and had almost mated with a dinosaur. Dave came to his senses when he realized the dinosaur had no breasts. Unable to get a woody for a scaly reptile with no bosom, Dave time-traveled back before he got eaten.

Dave sniffed the air, hoping for a whiff of a horny gal. “Son of a bitch,” he choked out, getting two nostrils full of crumbling plaster. “This sucks.”

He blew his nose on his sleeve and then ran through the hallway at vampire speed looking for his prize. The mansion was falling down around him. Literally.

He froze. His skin flute tingled and itched like a gnarly case of the shingles.

A locked door. The scent of not one, but two horny babes. Things were looking up.

Dave got down on his knees and peered through the keyhole. Holy hell, they were twins. Bodacious, red-headed twins. Bursting forth from their kelly green corsets, were two pairs of tremendous fun bags. They held each other lovingly, gazing into each other’s eyes. Fuck, that was hot. Pirate Dave had always dreamt about a three-way with identical twins. He was going to buy that fortune teller something really great, like a David Hasselhoff album or a complete season of Baywatch tapes. It was difficult to hear the girls, but Dave was a freakin’ vampire and could hear a pin drop in a hurricane.

“I had no idea he was a mime. He gave me his number, but I think it’s in brail,” the sexy one on the left said.

“Occasionally I forget how mentally unstable you are, and then you speak,” the hot one, with lovely melons, on the right replied.

“Thank you.” Lefty smiled and stroked her sister’s cheek. “I’d really like to boink a vampire. I’ve heard they have buttons on their testicles.”

“You really need to get a handle on your chemical imbalance,” Righty snapped. “I say these things because I care.”

“Seriously,” Lefty giggled. “The buttons come in handy if they suck out too much of your blood.”

“What if he’s a zombie?”

Were these chicks for real? Pirate Dave stroked his woodchuck and strained to hear more.

“I don’t know anything about zombies,” Lefty said, “but if you fornicate with a vamp, make sure you’re cupping his balls the entire time. The button on the right is the erection button and the button on the left is the weenie deflator. If you forget to cup the nut sack just knee the vamp in the testes. The buttons are extremely sensitive so you’re bound to activate one.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but what if you hit the erection button instead of the weenis killer?” Righty asked with an eye roll.

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