"Hi there, honey!"
A couple of prostitutes lounged on the peeling front steps of a once brightly painted but now shabby house. One of them had a gold front tooth. Their skin shone dully in the dazzling sunshine. I smiled and waved gaily in response. Once upon a time, I was a call girl known as Fleur Delice, specializing in making old men happy. I admired the girls' large breasts, clearly defined through their tight cropped tops. I didn't want to have to pay so I passed on, blowing them a little kiss.
Tattoo parlors, cheap cafes, fish filleting and diesel sales. I began to be aware of eyes following my progress. There were sailors everywhere. Ooh, I say! It looked like my ship had come in. He was big and he was black and he wore a crisp white uniform. I gazed up, up, up at his smiling face.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Would you happen to be able to direct me to an establishment called The Watering Hole? I'm new to this town and my friends have gone on ahead."
"Why, certainly, young man. In fact, I was just going there myself. The rum punch is quite outstanding."
I bluffed like mad, quickly slipping one arm through the sailor's and instinctively setting off in the general direction of a faint but throbbing beat. My escort gave me a rather perturbed look but I pressed on regardless. The poor boy was probably shy. Maybe it was his first time. I scanned his features for signs of a date stamp. Twenty, perhaps? Ooh, a toy boy. I love older men but the odd piece of fresh young flesh makes an interesting change. They have nothing to say but their hormones are rampant.
"What's your name, dear? I'm Jay."
The young man cleared his throat. He really was nervous.
"Um, Leroy, ma'am. Leroy Biggin."
I couldn't help myself. This was too much!
"Biggin, did you say? Why, Mr. Biggin, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance. You can call me Miss Bazookas."
The chap didn't skip a beat, the humor lost on him.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mizz Bazookas. Um, erm, if you don't mind my asking such a delicate question, Mizz Bazookas. Um, erm, how much will I need to pay you for your services?"
Oh dear. It would appear I had found a big black Biggin with a wallet full of greenbacks. I smiled and patted his arm.
"That's all right, big boy, I'm on special today. Just buy me a drink and satisfy my curiosity."
The booming reggae music emanated from The Watering Hole, a sleazy looking establishment which was obviously more than just a bar. Various posters displayed on the frontage showed dark skinned girls in assorted stages of undress. A strip joint. Perfect, only perfect. Maybe Big Boy would buy me a lap dance. We walked in, my rather courteous escort selecting a table in a darkish corner near the bar. The place was packed and fiendishly hot, not unlike the black hole of Calcutta. I took off my hat and unbuttoned my dress another notch, making Biggin gulp. I wondered if I had a virgin on my hands. Surely not. Scores of white uniformed sailors of all ages, sizes and shades were standing around, drinking bottled beer and staring at the dancer on the stage. I raised my gaze above the smoky throng and focused on the naked girl.
"Good heavens! What's she covered in?"
Biggin extricated a pair of spectacles from his shirt pocket. A short-sighted virgin Biggin. He polished them carefully, placed them on his nose and squinted at the stripper.
"That would appear to be honey, Mizz Bazookas."
"Ooh, I say..."
The girl was tall, very dark skinned and completely naked. Her ebony skin was thickly coated with the sticky golden mess and she writhed upon a plastic covered couch, ecstatically massaging her heavy breasts. Her long, lean legs were parted wide, exposing her pussy to the cheering throng. Then I realized that there was a man's head between her legs. His face dipped down into her cunt and she grasped her ankles with purple-taloned hands and spread her thighs wide for the sailor's hungry mouth.
"I like it."
My own naked pussy had begun to throb and, pushing my skirt up, I placed Biggin's dark hand on my ivory thigh. A topless girl with a mass of braided hair thrust a plastic ice cream tub under our noses. She bore a remarkable resemblance to the girl on stage or maybe the heat of the room had simply gone to my head. The tub was filled with money.
"All yo' can eat! Five bucks!"
I thought of sucking honey from a hot black cherry. Then again, it seemed I might have another cherry at hand to pop. I smiled coyly at Big Boy and he placed a greenback in the tub. Seductively, I stroked the inside of his thigh as the music throbbed and the stripper spread 'em for the gang. He seemed to have a baseball bat in the pocket of his pants.
"Is this a rough area, Mr. Biggin? You seem to be carrying protection."
I swear Biggin blushed.
"I can't get protection to fit, Mizz Bazookas. That's my, um, erm..."
The topless waitress began to laugh and I withdrew my hand and crossed my legs. It rather looked as if I'd bitten off more than I could chew...
* * * *
I rose for breath and swallowed a good dollop of honey. Delicious. And so was the honey. And the honey. I remembered her name now – Elvira. I took another lick then staggered to my feet to make room for the next licker.
The girl with the money tub kindly assisted me back to the bar and the bottle of rum. I patted her bottom with a sticky hand and she giggled.
"Thank you, my dear. Just swivel me round a little so I can maintain observation on the delectable Elvira."
She giggled again.
"She no Elvira – I Elvira! You no remem'er? Oh Mistuh Neptoon! Yo' no remem'er?"
If I had been on the rum last time we met it was no wonder I didn't remember. I looked closely at Elvira then at the girl on the stage now being attended to by two matelots, one of them the muscle shirt. I looked back at Elvira and took a healthy slug of rum. When I could speak again I engaged a careful brain cell.
"Now, my dear, I shall be very diplomatic here. I can't think of any other way to say it though – I really can't tell you apart!"
Elvira threw back her head and laughed.
"That 'cos we twins! Twins! Like as peas in a pod! She Alvira, I Elvira!"
A memory came back to me of an octopus-like engagement in the back room of the Watering Hole a year or two before. I seem to recall being blindfolded and made to guess whose anatomy was pressed on or around me at any given moment. I took a great many guesses, and I have to confess I sometimes made a deliberate mistake to prolong the inquisition.
I put an arm round Elvira and planted a kiss on her full lips.
"Now I remember! Let's see, when we left off you were just about to..."
"Service!"
A familiar voice cut across the music and cheers appreciative of Alvira and her entourage. I twisted round and peered into the murk. Elvira caught me just before I twisted a twist too far and landed on the floor.
My wife waved an arm in the "bring me a drink" gesture known by barmen the world over.
I looked guiltily at my watch and managed to make out the orientation and identity of the hands. Should I have been at the Lobster Pot by now? No, I had another ten minutes to make it. Why then had my newly betrothed tracked me down to this spot?
I saw her companion and had an inkling. Perhaps I was not in trouble after all.
He was large and black, in a gleaming white uniform. Very large and very black. For some reason though Miss Lawrence was keeping her hands to herself and had wrapped her legs in a reef knot.
"Who's the big feller?" I asked Elvira from the level of her breasts.
"That Leroy Biggin! He from Barbuda! They all big there! I meet him there when I work in Princess Di hotel!"
The inkling became a bigger inkling.
"A descriptive name, may I hazard a guess?"
Elvira giggled again.
"Ver' descriptive! He a big Biggin!"
The inkling became a certainty.
"Who dat wit' him? You know she?"
"But of course, my dear. Come and meet my wife."
Elvira looked at me disbelievingly as I co
llared the rum bottle and steered a course for the Lawrence and Biggin table. By the time I got there Miss Lawrence was sipping a rum punch and Biggin was halfway down a Red Stripe.
I heard Miss Lawrence speak, with a slight catch in her voice.
"Is it true your people are – blessed – in proportion to your height?"
Biggin laughed and showed pearly white teeth.
"No ma'am, that ain't true. Why, if it were I would be ten feet tall!"
Miss Lawrence paled. Elvira sighed nostalgically beside me.
I fell into a chair at the table.
"Mrs. Neptune, meet Elvira. Elvira, meet my beloved wife Jay."
Elvira held out a hand and Jay shook it.
"Pleased to meet you," they said simultaneously.
Jay looked at me welcomingly.
I waved the rum bottle at the young lad. He took a slug without turning a hair.
"Well?" I said. "Still time before we meet at the Lobster Pot. Are you going to have your bit of fun, then?"
"Er, Gigi will be waiting for us, and, er, I'm getting hungry, and, er, we don't want to keep Gigi waiting, and, er..." Jay started to push her chair back.
I watched, puzzled, then caught sight of Elvira's hand massaging Biggin's muscular thigh. I looked again. It wasn't his thigh. There was something sharing trouser space with his thigh, and winning the battle for occupancy. All became clear, and so did my mission.
"Now hold on," I cried cheerily. "The Black Widow can wait for a bit and knock back a margarita or twain. The back room's the place. Come on Elvira – lend a hand."
Elvira and I took Miss Lawrence by her elbows and hustled her past the stage and the squirming Alvira with her sailors, through a beaded curtain, and into Eldine's spartan but clean and tidy back room. Biggin followed, with a slight limp.
"Harry...!" Jay looked wildly around her for escape.
"You goin' enjoy this!" Elvira rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. She lifted Jay's brightly patterned skirt, swiftly revealing that the wanton little hussy had ventured forth sans panties.
"Bes' doggy style – max'mum input!" Elvira skillfully wrestled Jay to her knees, then slid under her with her arms around her waist. She gave Jay a kiss on the lips.
"This goin' be good, baby! I look af'er you!"
"Harry...!"
"Look on this as your introduction to the Caribbean, my love. Nothing like starting with a bang!"
I took a pull at the rum. It was going down much easier now. I had lost all sensation in my upper digestive tract.
Biggin stood behind Miss Lawrence, an odd aura of uncertainty hovering about his super-sized form. Hesitantly, he unzipped his white ducks and almost apologetically extracted a medium-sized mahogany tree. Elvira licked her plump dark lips and began to knead Jay's trembling buttocks with practiced hands.
I gulped.
Now the Neptune weapon is not to be sneered it. It holds its own in most company. I may modestly claim never to have had a complaint. But this behemoth – well, there are occasions when there is nothing to do but raise the white flag and admit defeat.
I grasped Jay's hair, lifted her head, and poured Vincentian rum into her open mouth as Biggin sank to his knees behind her.
* * * *
White heat flooded my throat as I swallowed the potent liquor, feeling it inflame its way down to my stomach. The stuff could make you go blind yet I had a strange suspicion I could get to like it. I have a fondness for chili pepper. However, I was in a tight spot and had to think quickly. Crying "Rape!" would get me nowhere in the back room of a strip joint by the docks, and knowing my dearly beloved, would only incite Harry Neptune to greater heights of depravity. Elvira felt warm and silky between my thighs and her long nimble fingers were eliciting some deeply pleasurable sensations, massaging my bottom and spreading me wide for the young lad's monster tool. I could handle Elvira but Biggin's equine cock would have to wait 'til I asked the Lush for some pussy stretching tips. In a sudden flash of brilliance, a fiendish plan emerged. The vast, swollen head of Biggin's knob pressed lightly on my vulva and I let out a piercing squeal.
"Lube, darling! We must have lots of lube! This heat is drying me up and we might get stuck!"
Biggin gulped loudly. I wondered just how many times he'd actually managed to get the monster up. A really huge cock is less than a blessing, unless you take your prize-winning prong into the realm of XXX. I continued, having formed a small breach in the opposition's psyche.
"Lube me up, honey. Just think how good it's going to feel."
"Mmm, oh yeah, baby girl. I get yo' all wet n' willin'."
Elvira moaned softly and reached out one arm to rummage on a nearby shelf, upon which, I had noted, there was an economy-sized bottle of triple-strength SupaLoob. Harry's hand had lost its prior tight grip on my hair and, seizing the moment, I shot out from my trio of captors like a frenzied sprinter leaving the starting block. There was nowhere to go but on stage. I threw myself through the curtain of beads and came to a skidding halt beside the writhing Alvira.
"Oi! Come back here, bint! Call yourself a proper wife?"
I looked over my shoulder. Harry was more than a little inebriated. He leaned heavily against the door frame, artfully draped in the strings of multi-colored beads. The bottle of rum dangled limply from one hand.
"Come back here and let the lad fuck you, you disobedient trollop!"
Two dark hands slipped around his waist and slowly began to unzip his trousers. Seemed like we had the makings of a sex show that would rival anything in Amsterdam or Hamburg. Ignoring my husband completely, I squatted down beside Alvira's squirming ebony form. She had a strange, distant look in her black eyes, a look I associate with either drug use or extreme forms of sexual submission. Yet she looked like the kind of woman you'd be a fool to mess around. Slowly, I pressed my lips against her open, gasping mouth in an upside-down kiss. Her long, lean arms reached up to capture my head and draw me down.
"Woo! Yeah! Lesbian sex!"
The crowd of sailors went wild. Men love to watch women getting it on. I just couldn't resist. I cast one last glance behind me and saw Elvira kneeling between Harry's legs. He held her head and ground her face against his crotch in an aggressive rhythm that would soon bring the girl a creamy mouthwash.
"It's so hot in here."
I whispered in Alvira's ear, tracing the contours of her breasts with my hands. The boys gave out another raucous cheer. Suddenly, something strange happened. The room began to fade, the stage to sway. There was a vise-like grip on the back of my neck. The rum had kicked in.
"Take yo' dress off, honey!"
"Yes, I'm so hot, so hot..."
My flimsy sun dress was half-unbuttoned, as it was. There was a sailor lodged between Alvira's glistening thighs and I grasped his feasting head between the palms of my hands.
"Undress me."
He looked up, surprised. Then a broad grin split his dusky face. He was black too. There was still time to achieve what I set out to do. Roughly, I pulled him to his feet and pressed my hands against the bulge in the front of his pristine white pants. He was big but not Biggin-style big. I would live to tell the tale of this encounter. I let him undo the last few buttons of my dress, guiding his slightly fumbling hands. Then I slipped the garment over my shoulders and let it slide to the floor in a heap. The crowd roared in appreciation.
Oh, yes, yes, now I remember!
Naked on stage, I recalled the potent power of exhibitionism, the divinely delicious high of full exposure. Titty Boomboom was making a comeback! I walked arrogantly about the narrow platform, sometimes squatting down to show the guys my rapidly moistening pussy, never letting them get close enough to dip their tongues in the dripping juice. I lay on my back and spread my legs as wide as I could while massaging my breasts. I crawled on all fours and growled like a tiger. Finally, when I'd exhausted my old repertoire, I clambered on top of the grinning Alvira and raised my ass towards the big black sailor.
"Fuck me!"
Now I was facing the door to the storeroom. Biggin had emerged and was slowly stroking a well-lubed tree-trunk as he watched my husband fuck Elvira from behind. The girl was pressed up hard against the door frame, her big black tits squashed beneath the weight of a wildly rogering Harry Neptune. Her mouth was open, her eyes rolled back in her head as he pulled hard on her waist-length braids.
"Oh, god!"
I kissed Alvira hard, felt her hot, sticky breasts full and satiny beneath my own large, soft tits. I straddled her hips and ground my soaking cunt against her voracious cleft. She was hot, she was wet, I was hot, I was wet ... I kissed her again and again, feeling the sailor's hands upon my wriggling hips. I raised my bottom to meet his searching, thrusting cock.
"Oh, Jesus! Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
A solid rod pierced my pussy, drove hard and fast into my cunt. I fucked them both, meeting the sailor's thrusts at each womb-deep stroke, dry-humping the stripper who pushed her tongue into my mouth and the tip of one long-nailed finger inside my anus. I came noisily, with thoughts of my husband fucking my ass...
* * * *
Matters got a little hazy around this point. I have a fairly good head for liquor, but that St Vincent rum must have been off. Through my blurred vision I spotted the bottle rolling away toward the dance floor, not wasting a drop because it was patently empty. All right, maybe I had overdone it a teensy weensy bit.
"YEEEEESSSS!!!" came a cry from in front of me. I returned my attention to the job in hand – or rather the cock in cunt – and matched my rhythm to Elvira's pumping buttocks.
"OH YEEEEEEESSSS!!!" This time it was me as I pumped Neptunian life fluid deep into Elvira's pussy and dug my fingers into her thighs.
"OH YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSS!!!" Elvira was not be outdone. She came with a howl that would have guided ocean liners through fog then uncoupled and twisted round to take the last of my offering deep in her mouth.
"Oh yes..." I leaned against the door jamb to catch my breath.
On the dance floor Miss Lawrence was reaching the same point of no return with the help of the athletic sailor pounding in and out at hundred-yard dash pace. From the contortions Alvira was going through, I guessed that she had a finger in the Lawrence ass, guaranteed to send her over the edge. I hardened again at the thought of spread-eagling my wife on a queen size bed and parting her tight buttocks...
MASTER AND BABY : A Tale of Erotic Submission Page 23
