5

You can't trust anybody in the focsle. So, every sailor has something like that. Luckily, I'd stashed the gold from my last voyage there, before I'd learned about Faith. So, I had been carrying a relative fortune all the time I was in Adams's clutches.

That led me to a chilling thought. By now, Adams had no-doubt figured-out that I wasn't coming back. And he would probably guess that I was in New Orleans. Hence, it was likely that he would be combing the city looking for me. Therefore, it seemed advisable that I go to ground.

It was midafternoon and I was walking through a place with very distinctive architecture; all Frenchified balconies and wrought iron fantasies. It had narrow streets and back alleys. THOSE had the potential for good cover. Logically, it was called the "French Quarter," and it looked to be one of the older sections of the city.

I was dawdling my way down Dauphin Street, right on the edge of the Storyville district, when I saw a sign on a substantial clapboard and stone building up an alleyway. Men were coming and going through the front door. Naturally, I just assumed it was a hotel. I mean, it certainly looked like a hotel. I needed some sleep and a bath. So, I went in looking to book a room.

The instant I walked through the door I realized my error. There were beautiful women draped around on the plush furnishings, like alley cats. And they were ALL in some form of undress!!

My first instinct was to avert my eyes. That had been drummed into us at all those cotillions. Still, the infinite bounty of breasts and hips in bustiers and bare legs in net stockings was far too much for my twenty-year-old sensibilities. So, I just stood there with my mouth hanging open.

Now, you might think I was a naive fool, walking into a whorehouse looking for a bed and bath. But this place was like nothing I'd ever encountered. New England was still under the thumb of its Puritan ancestors and places like this were kept secret lest they offend the eyes of the godly.

A woman detached herself from the delectable array of female flesh and glided majestically over like a clipper ship entering harbor under full sail. She was older than the collection of kittens around her. But she must have been a stunning beauty in her day.

She was painted-up like the lead float in a Fourth of July parade. But she had a very pretty face under all the cosmetics. And her monumental tits were hoisted to inconceivable heights by a bustier that was an engineering marvel.

At six-two, I towered over her by a foot. Yet, I was intimidated by her worldly confidence. She stood there, appraising me like she was buying a horse. I almost expected her to thump my chest and pry open my mouth to count my teeth. She finally said, "What're y'all heah for sugahhh?" There was a glint in her eye.

I got enough rationality back to stutter, "I was just-just looking for a b-b-bed and a b-b-bath." She tittered merrily and purred, "That'll cost you twenty dollahs gold, sailor."

I said in amazement, "That's a lot of money for a room." She laughed, a throaty chuckle that dripped pure sex, and said, "We provide a little lagniappe along with the bed and hot water mon-cher."

I handed a liberty-head to her. She took it and actually bit it. Then she turned to a beautiful dark girl who had drifted up next to her and said, "Marie-Aimee, could you please show this Yankee to a room and draw him a bath?"

The new woman was willowy slim with long gorgeous legs and smooth raven hair. It hung down her back, all the way to her delectable hind-quarters. She had large, soft, perfectly shaped tear-drop breasts parked on top of her corset. But her face was the real wonder.

She was a rare, exotic beauty with huge dark eyes, perfectly proportioned features and a lush sensuality that hearkened to leaping fires, beating drums and wanton tropical nights. You would have to be made of stone to not respond to her. And one part of me was pure granite. as I inhaled her musky scent. She smelled like magnolias.

She moved with the lithe feline grace of a hunting jungle cat, natural and smooth, yet compellingly purposeful. She almost prowled. I followed the swaying globes of her ass up the richly carpeted stairs. They looked like two cannon balls moving up and down.

She opened the door to a room and ushered me in. There was a big galvanized tin tub placed right in the middle of it. I said nervously, "So, do you work here?" I still hadn't gotten it in my head that a woman as remarkably beautiful as this one was a whore.

She gave me a pitying look, like she couldn't believe I was allowed to walk around without a keeper. She said in a soft Cajun accented voice, "It's a living. Now take off your clothes and settle down in this tub, Cher. We'll get you some hot water and soap."

I was a bit shy about undressing in front of a lady. I also wanted to make sure my stash of gold coins stayed in my possession. So, I waited until the stunning creature had glided out of the room. Then I stuck everything under the mattress.

I was sitting in the tub in my birthday suit when the first woman, who clearly was the madam, came in with a couple of black porters bearing steaming buckets of water. They proceeded to pour hot water into the tub and I found out how a boiled lobster felt.

The lady was disrobing while the two men did that. I wondered how a female could undress with three men in the room. But it appeared that the two porters were invisible to her, being no-doubt slaves. The woman had removed the bustier and was down to nothing but frilly pantaloons, staring at me hungrily.

She was maybe forty years old. But she was the most voluptuous female I'd ever seen. I'd marveled at the size of her tits. They were topped by big, round, red, almost purple aureoles, with large nipples protruding from the middle. My wife's breasts had been big. But Faith's tits were mere foothills compared to this woman's jaw-dropping treasures.

I'd thought she'd looked chubby in a dress. That was because her boobs were wider than her ribcage. Naked, they were giant swaying globes, with surprisingly little sag. To this day, whenever I see an enormous pair of juicy watermelons, I think "New Orleans whorehouse."

The impression of plump was reinforced by the fact that her massive boobs were accompanied by wide, fruitful hips. In fact, naked, you could see that there was actually very little fat on her. And the muscles moving around beneath that soft female flesh were clearly visible.

With boobs and hips so enormous, you would expect her to have legs like tree trunks. But hers were slim and sculptured, with enough space at the top to berth a frigate. Nevertheless, although her legs might be works of art, her true wonder was her waistline.

In the nude, her tiny waist made her look like she had been tied in the middle using very little rope. You could just about span it with your hands, a little over twenty inches. The contrast between her hips and boobs and her waist brought to mind the term, "Earth Goddess."

The sight of her was something you'd see maybe once in a lifetime. Even more relevant, I hadn't been with a woman in over two years. So, understandably, an object broke the surface in front of me that looked like a breaching bluefin.

My new friend got a hungry expression as she shoved me back in the tub and climbed in facing me. She said coyly, "I'll have to do something about that sugahhh." She leaned forward, seized the recently surfaced item, which was sticking out of the bathwater like the Scituate lighthouse, and proceeded to gobble it like it was a plump chicken and she'd been living on a desert island.

The exquisite sensation of her hot mouth slammed my head back onto the edge of the tub. You have to understand. Faith and I were both newcomers to sex. And we hadn't gotten to that chapter in the book yet. That was the first time I'd ever been blown. I lasted perhaps ten seconds before I groaned and then erupted like Vesuvius. She began to drench her own breasts with the resulting molten magma, moaning lustfully as she did it.

I had no idea what was happening. But that was irrelevant. This woman had just awakened the Kraken. I rose out of the water. Picked her up like she weighed nothing and tossed her on the bed. She gave an eager squeal as she landed, legs spread, massive boobs flopping. Then I pounced on top of her making alarming growls. Her hand reached between us. There was a minute of fumbling and I slid into a fiery passage.

My partner was a professional, which was actually an advantage. She might have serviced many men. But it made her expert in the fine art of fucking. She gripped me down there with more strength than most women have in their hands and proceeded to massage me in mysterious ways.

I made another loud groan and plunged into her to the hilt. That caused her eyes to go remarkably wide, she shrieked, they rolled completely up in her head, and we began a very vigorous dance.

I'd never been with a whore before. In fact, I hadn't been with anybody but Faith. Still, my wife was one very wild fuck... Bad thought!! The vision of that son-of-a-bitch tapping Faith's extraordinary passion hit me and I was overcome by a blazing pang of jealousy.

Mercifully, the pain was quickly submerged by a tidal wave of sensation. My new partner had her gorgeous legs around my waist and was slamming back at me. She was grunting with effort as she worked my shaft writhing like a madwoman. Our mutual sweat made our bodies slippery and she was oozing lubrication around the part where she'd been penetrated.

She had her arms wrapped tightly around my chest and her giant tits were moving around independently between us. It felt like an eternity passed. Then my partner began to emit loud rhythmic cries that built to a crescendo. With that, she made a throaty sound very deep in her chest and yelled astonished, "Oh Mon Dieu!!!-J'ARRIVE!! -- YESSSS!!"