Blondie's Kinky Cruise

Looking out the porthole, I saw the sun was beginning to drop off the end of Dauphin Island and realized nightfall came early on the Gulf Coast this time of year. I asked Del, who was lying naked on the bunk next to my naked wife, carrying on a low-volume post-coital conversation,

"Are we going to be able to make it back to the marina before dark?"

He gave me a lazy, unconcerned smile that I found a bit troublesome. We'd just smoked more weed less than an hour earlier, just before he and Blondie fucked again. He said,

"Your wife an' I were just talkin' about stayin' out here all night. Whaddaya think about that?"

I replied, "Well, that would be fine except we're almost out of food, dude."

He was massaging Blondie's breast...thumbing her erect nipple. "I'd be fine just suckin' on these sweet puppies, you know?"

"C'mon, Del, let's get serious. If you guys want to stay out all night, we need to find some food somewhere. And...do you a have a space heater that can run off your diesel alternator?"

He lay there looking thoughtful before replying, "I have an idea. We're a lot closer to Bayou la Batre than we are Dog River and I've got an uncle there who has a little sea/soul-food/juke-joint that's actually pretty nice for a juke. He's got an old rickety dock out behind it where we could tie up. It's got shore power so we wouldn't have to run the engines."

"And the seafood's great—he's an offshore cook like me—he's the one got me hired in the first place. He runs a great kitchen though he mainly just supervises now an' pays others to cook."

So that is how we ended up tying up at the decrepit dock on a narrow bayou tributary little more than an hour later just as the sun dropped behind the pines. After extensive repair work on her hair and makeup, Blondie put her mini/sun-dress and high-heeled sandals back on and we walked up the none-too-sturdy dock to Papa Gateau's (Sugar Daddy's in Creole).

Papa Gee as he was known by family, friends and customers turned out to be an older, thicker, heavier version of his nephew, possessing the same, pencil-thin mustache and wavy processed hair as his nephew, but both flecked with gray, giving him a more urbane look, enhancing his mature good looks, matching his easy, rascally charm. While his nephew was mid to late twenties, I guessed Papa Gee to be in his mid-fifties, which didn't seem to slow him down.

Del had gone ahead into the little juke joint while Blondie, still stoned, took forever completing her hair and makeup repairs, which meant Del had plenty of time to tell his uncle everything. That was undoubtably the reason why the old rake turned his full wattage on my wife the minute we walked into his small, but neat, and spotlessly clean, establishment. He effusively complimented her dress, her hair, her eyes, every aspect of her appearance as his dark, liquid eyes roamed over her face and body. Freshly fucked, high as a kite and, I recognized, still in a fully fuckable mood, Blondie ate it all up and flirted right back.

I thought, "What the hell, if she wants to screw the old guy, that's entirely her call."

The ramshackle bar against the back wall possessed only a beer and wine license but Papa brought out his private stock Bordeaux which he shared with Blondie. The rest of us drank ice-cold beer. It was still early so the place was quiet with only two of the perhaps ten or so mismatched table/chair arrangements of assorted sizes occupied. As he prepared to uncork the second bottle of wine, the wily old devil said slyly to my wife,

"My nephew tells me y'all are some real hard-partyin' white folks."

Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, "He also tol' me lil' Miz Blondie looks très sexy in her teeny weeny, pink bikini, an' seein' just how lovely you are fully-dressed, chérie, makes dis old man's heart flutter an' his 'magination run wild wit' speculation."

Her eyes never leaving his, my wife smiled provocatively and replied in a throaty, sensual purr,

"Pourquoi merci (Why, thank you), Papa. It's all I have on under this dress, which I'm plannin' on takin' off just as soon as we get back on the boat. Why don't we take that bottle out to the Nauti Buoy an' Miz Blondie will let you check out her bikini all you want, cher."

With a crafty, emboldened smile, he suggested, "Why don't I grab a couple more bottles—get you in the mood to take that bikini off, too—let ol' Papa Gee check out those sweet little white titties an' that hairy little cooze my nephew's been ravin' about, hmm, jolie femme (pretty woman)?"

"Why don't you do that, Papa?" she teased. "But I don't need the wine—your beau neveu (handsome nephew) has already got me in the mood to get naked on that sexy bed again an' the way I'm feelin' right now, I won't mind a bit if you wanna get up there for a while an' let Miz Blondie give you un joli petit échantillon (a nice little sample) of what she's been givin' your beau neveu."

She winked, "C'est ce que tu as en tête, chérie (Is that what you had in mind, honey)?"

His face splitting in a huge grin he replied, "Parfait (Perfect)! Then after we have our little party we'll come back in here and have a wonderful dinner, compliments du propriétaire (compliments of the owner), d'accord?"

Blondie paid a quick visit to the ladies' room while Papa fetched his wine. Then Bert and I each carried a bottle of the Bordeaux down the shaky dock behind my tipsy wife, who strolled arm-in-arm between Papa and his nephew, giggling merrily. Having seen her in similar circumstances many times before, I could read the signs: my little Dixie Pixie was ripe for pulling a train tonight—a black train.

Once back aboard, Del plugged us into the dubiously-wired dockside power source and turned on some low, golden-glowing cabin lighting, creating a very sensual atmosphere. Blondie mounted the two steps to the open, forward V-berth where she'd spent most of the afternoon on her back and took a seat on the edge of the thick mattress. Smiling seductively at the four men facing her from around the salon, she crooked a finger, beckoning me. Standing and turning her back, she cooed,

"Soyez un bon mari et décompressez-moi pour ces messieurs, cher (Be a good cocu and unzip me for these gentlemen, cher."

Retaking my seat in the dinette, I watched as she stood there smiling naughtily, surveying her appreciative audience. She was completely and comfortably in her exhibitionist element now, preparing to strip naked for four pairs of hungry male eyes: her husband, her brother and two black men. I chuckled inwardly thinking, that for a Southern belle, you couldn't get much more perfectly decadent than that. Pulling the top of the dress to her waist, she shimmied the bunched material down her hips and stepped out of it, tossing it to Papa Gee who exclaimed

"Hooee, pretty baby! Look at all that soft white skin! You fuckin' fine, baby, super-fine!"

She was right about the dark pubic hair peeking out around the three sides of the tiny, shiny, pink triangle giving the impression that it was trying to restrain some furry creature and failing. Her hard nipples betrayed her own arousal at provoking four men. Smiling at Papa she teased.

"Aimez-vous ce que vous voyez, papa doux? (Do you like what you see, sweet daddy)? Veux tu en voir plus (Do you want to see more)?"

Papa sat there grinning, nodding and muttering, "Oui...oui...oui," as my wife reached behind her and unsnapping the flimsy top, shucked out of it, tossing it to the older man. Stripping out of the tiny, shiny pink triangular bottom, she flipped that to him, too, before sitting back on the edge of the bed and sluttily spreading her legs, asking sweetly,

"Tu veux un peu de ma petite chatte blanche serrée, papa (Want some of my tight little white pussy, daddy)?"

Blondie had picked up on white women calling black men "daddy" from porn videos and had quickly learned that black men, particularly older black men, indeed found it a turn on. When Papa roared out, "Hell yeah I want some of that tight little white pussy," she winked and cooed,

"Well then get yourself up here an' get some of it, daddy, 'cause my little white pussy's ready for some more black dick...a lot more."

She glanced at me and raised her eyebrows suggestively and I recognized that look—she was letting me know that Papa Gee didn't necessarily need to be her last strange black cock of the evening. I could read her devious mind. After all, wasn't that a black juke joint right up that dock and was this not in fact Saturday night, when a lot of black men might be there drinking, dancing raising hell...and looking for pussy?

When Papa dropped his boxer shorts he revealed a cock almost identical to his nephew's, causing my little slut to squeal with delight as she scooted back on the bed with her legs spread, waiting. She took him in without preliminaries and he was fully inside her and pumping before they had even kissed the first time. But when they did kiss, he must have been good at it because Blondie went a little crazy and began fucking him back enthusiastically telling him repeatedly,

"Baise moi, papa, baise moi baise moi baise moi! Donne moi cette grosse bite noire papa doux. Donne-le moi bien et dur (Fuck me, daddy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Gimme that big black cock, sweet daddy. Give it to me good and hard)."

He did—for about ten hot and heavy minutes before she got his nuts off. He lay there panting and wheezing for a few more before Bert asserted his right of succession, pointing out that Del had been the last one to fuck her before we left Dauphin Island. As Papa stepped past me, he patted my arm and said, "You a lucky dude—dat's some fine pussy your lil' wife got dere."

Glancing over his shoulder, he whispered, "Dat dude really her brutha?" and when I assured him he was, he retook his seat, muttering, "Man, this somethin' I gotta see—pretty little thing like that fuckin' her own brutha."

But before he was able to see that occur, there was something of even greater depravity he got to view when Blondie snapped her fingers at her brother and indicated her freshly-fucked pussy needed a cleanup. A willing Bert set dutifully about the task, seemingly unmindful or uncaring that he had a three-man audience, eagerly kissing, licking and sucking a sticky snatch that had taken come loads several times today from four different men, the last just moments ago.

Again, my wife had been right about her brother being so perverted he'd be willing to accept her fucking blacks, even willing, eagerly so, in fact, to suck a black dick himself, preparing it to fuck his little sister. How she had known that he would do that was a story I would have to get from her later when we were alone. And now this.

Much to everyone's delight, Bert's cleaning endeavors led to his sister having a near-screaming orgasm that led to another almost as soon as he got his cock in her and eventually a third several minutes later when he came in her. While they were still going strong, with Bert hitting that hot, hairy, little target from every possible direction and his sister trying to meet every thrust, Papa leaned over to me, correctly observing,

"Man, they are really fuckin' good together, ne sont-ils pas (aren't they)? Move like a dance team or somethin' you know?"

I grinned, "Lotta practice—they've been fucking since she was eighteen," causing him to return my grin, shaking his head at the wonder of it all. He plucked my sleeve again, saying.

"Look, man, any time Miz Blondie get to feelin' that jungle fever comin' on, y'all are welcome to come down for one a' Papa Gee's personally cooked, private, candlelit, gourmet dinners with beaucoup (plenty of) Bordeaux an' a handsome young black stud waitin'' on her hand an' foot. I'll treat your wife like a real lady or a real whore, whatever she in the mood for, diggie vous?"

"An' there's a motel over on the Interstate with big, sexy hot tubs, big round beds and lotsa mirrors in the rooms. Everything would be Papa's treat, bien sûr (of course)."

Several minutes later Bert got his nuts off again and his semen production appeared considerably reduced from just a few hours ago—but it was, at least, his third time today. He still continued to amaze me with his ability to give it to my wife as hard and as often as someone half his age, with those big, remarkable balls producing such copious quantities of semen. For a man in his late thirties, his recuperative powers were astounding.

But what counted most was how he gave it to her and how she responded. He seemed to be able to make her come during intercourse more frequently than any other lover I could recall seeing her with and I knew that was a sure way to keep her calling him up and inviting him to drive over and share her bed, whether I was home or not. Well she was about to get it good and hard for the next six nights, until I flew back into Mobile next Friday. That should hold her for a while, I hoped.

I awoke early Sunday morning in the unfamiliar and chilly confines of the Nauti Boy's cabin, hungover and head hurting. I was alone on the berth made by folding down the dinette table, an action I did not remember taking. Bert was across the cabin on the salon sofa. Looking up to the V-berth where I vaguely remembered watching a lot of fucking taking place, I saw my diminutive wife sprawled on her side with a much larger, darker and more muscular form spooned up behind her.

Much darker...almost coal black...too dark, in fact, too big and too black to be our captain. I looked back to the aft berth beyond the galley and saw a lighter-skinned black male's form, presumably Del. I lay back, staring up at the roof of the cabin, allowing remembrances of the previous night to gradually take form.

After Blondie had fucked Papa Gee and Bert, we'd smoked another joint before going back in for a long, drunken dinner in Papa Gateau's. A stoned and constantly laughing Blondie had sat across from Bert and me at a longer table facing the small dance floor. Seated against the wall, she was sandwiched between Del and Papa Gee, and in spite of the place being packed with a largely black crowd, she'd not been shy about ardently kissing both men from time to time.

Then the memory flooded back of my stoned wife dancing with Papa Gee, rubbing her tits and her belly all over him, deep-kissing him on the small dance floor while many disapproving black eyes, mostly female, cast furtive, contemptuous glances at Bert and me as if trying to determine which of those honky fools was responsible for this white bitch and her whorish behavior.

Those looks of racial animus and contempt became even more intense when, after an extended deep kiss while intensely belly-rubbing to a sensual rhythm and blues number, Papa had led my wasted mate through the door to the kitchen and they'd not returned for twenty minutes. When I queried Del, he winkingly informed us that his uncle had a narrow bed in his back office. When they returned, Blondie was laughing gaily, her arm around his waist, glowing again with that freshly-fucked look.

Back in the present, I sat up from my dinette bed looking closer at the ebony hulk beside my wife, my memory haze clearing further, remembering Papa suddenly pushing his chair back and standing, arms wide-opened in welcome with a huge grin on his face. I had turned in my chair to find myself facing a virtual mountain of black muscle gone somewhat slack. Nevertheless, it was both impressive as well as intimidating until Papa introduced this fellow, Leon, or Big L, as another of his nephews and Del's cousin.

At Papa's suggestion, Del surrendered his seat next to my wife to his cousin and joined Bert and me, facing them. She was wide-eyed and almost giddy with delight as she boozily appraised all that mass of black virility: the wide shoulders, the huge, ham-like arms, those long, thick fingers hinting of other lengthy things, all topped with a shiny, ink-black face that, while not handsome, managed to be pleasantly attractive. Blondie loved getting fucked by really big men and her immediately delighted response indicated she was clearly intending to get fucked by this one.

It wouldn't be until we got home that she told me just how it had happened that Leon had suddenly materialized at his uncle's juke joint. During dinner Papa had asked her if she'd be willing to fuck another of his nephews, a former football player at Southern Mississippi who'd been kicked off the team several years ago for constantly violating player curfew. The kid was a pussy hound who liked to stay out all night, especially with white coeds, but his easy access to white women had dried up when he left college. Papa Gee knew that his énorme neveu (enormous nephew) would love to fuck a little white beauty like Blondie. She had told Papa to call him, which he had done first thing when he took her back to his office for their between-dances quickie.

Shortly after Papa introduced us, I noticed him explaining something to Leon, with Blondie between them nodding, speaking earnestly to Big L with repeated glances across the table at Bert. With a look of disbelief on that ebony visage, Leon was shaking his head doubtfully and I saw his lips form the words no way. Suddenly Blondie stood, came around the table and plopped in Bert's lap. Hiking up them of her skirt and revealing her incompletely-covered bush, my soused little spouse took her brother's hand and placed it between her spread legs. Tilting his face up, she bent and gave him a long, warm, wet kiss, her hips beginning to move against the finger he had apparently inserted.

When she finally ended the long kiss, she leveled a lewd leer at Leon, and said, "See, baby?" causing the big man to shake his head in amazement at the weird sexual antics of white folks.

Standing and smoothing down her sun dress, she smiled naughtily, explaining to me,

"Papa told him about Bertie an' me fuckin' an' Leon doesn't believe I'd fuck my own brother, so I decided to just give him a little preview."

Now here on the boat in the early morning, I was recalling images of Blondie cuddling comfortably in big Leon's massive arms between dances. She was on the floor frequently, showing off her most suggestive moves on the fast numbers and rubbing her body all over her black dance companions on the slow ones, shamelessly engaging in hot, open-mouthed kissing with all three of her black companions. Leon hadn't been there even an hour when my wife led him from the dance floor to the bed in back, looking tiny and helpless next to his massive bulk.

But I knew she could and would accommodate him quite well—I'd watched her fuck big men before—and she managed them all passionately and skillfully, which I was sure she had done with Leon when they finally emerged after a half-hour, with her looking somewhat worse for the wear but grinning merrily. As they approached the table, I heard a deep rumbling voice call out,

"Hey, Big L, you tear up some a' that fine white pussy, dawg?"

A smirking Leon silently raised a straight-armed, clenched fist, black power salute as he assisted my wife into her chair. She looked steadily into my eyes...hers reflecting a smug glee.

Glancing over my shoulder I saw several black women glaring our way. Not seeing any other white patrons, I suggested to Papa Gee that it might be prudent to take our mixed-race party back to the boat. He reluctantly agreed that trouble might be brewing that would not end well for us white folks and he sure didn't need any visits from sheriff's deputies. Admitting that he was done for the night anyway, Papa remained behind to pacify patrons in his little joint, sending us younger folks back to the boat for further fun.