Oar House

The pastor started unbuttoning his black clergy shirt, revealing a well-built upper body. Not quite a book cover chest, but nicer than Donna Lee expected.

Donna Lee, meanwhile, slipped her summer dress off with one well practiced swish of the arms, leaving her in pure white lingerie—an impossibly sexy little bra and high-cut panties with pretty lace trim.

"My, that does feel better, doesn't it?" she said with that wonderful smile. "The woman, she's often at the man's feet, isn't she. Sort of nestled between his legs, looking up at him longingly."

Donna Lee slithered off the edge of the bed to a pose on the floor that mimicked one she'd seen on one of those book covers, her legs curled around her as she sat between the pastor's strong legs, her arms draped over his muscular thighs. His black pants were a bit tighter than you'd expect to see on a preacher, but they looked good on him. Donna Lee's face was close to the crotch, which was bulging noticeably from the pressure within.

"Those women, they often run their hands across the man's stomach muscles, and up onto his chest," Donna Lee said as she did it, feeling the perspiration on the pastor's warm skin. "I do love hot, steamy days. Do you Pastor?"

"I do. I very much do," the pastor said quietly.

Donna Lee's skill at unfastening clothing had the pastor's pants open and his cock in her mouth before either of them could think much about it.

"Oh Donna Lee..." the pastor moaned.

Donna Lee moaned too, the salty taste and rich scent of a man's cock on a warm day filling her senses.

The pastor's cock was average in size, with a nice chunky girth. Donna Lee was delighted with how hard it was.

"My goodness Pastor, it's been a long time since I've felt a man as hard as you," she said in her deep southern drawl.

She stroked the hard flesh with her small hand as she inhaled its scent.

"Those women in those books," she said in a breathy, sexy voice as she removed his shoes and socks, "they like to peel the clothes off of their men. Stand up Pastor, so I can peel off your clothes."

He stood silently while Donna Lee pulled the black pants off his legs, and the Clergy shirt slipped down off his arms.

"My, my," she said. "You are a fine looking man!"

Donna Lee spoke the truth. The pastor was what in some circles would be called 'ripped'. Strong arms and a well defined chest, a V-shaped abdomen pointing at his rock-hard cock, and thick, muscular thighs. There was very little hair on his body, just some short, well-trimmed darkness framing his manhood. Donna Lee pressed her body against the handsome man and took his cock in her hand.

"The women in those books," she sighed, looking up into the pastor's eyes, "they're often taken rather forcefully. I always think it's hot when I read those scenes, don't you Pastor?"

The pastor took a firm hold of the back of Donna Lee's head and thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Donna Lee moaned. His hands slid down her sweaty back, under the thin lace of her little panties, and his fingers found her little pucker hole before moving under her to her steamy wet pussy. One hand shifted to the front of her, two fingers sliding deep into her wetness while the other hand played with her asshole. Donna Lee loved that feeling, two strong hands taking her most private parts from both sides, and her deep moans and slithering tongue told the pastor how she felt.

"Just what are you gonna do to me sir?" Donna Lee said, playing the part of a weak woman being taken. "I'm a proper Sunday school girl you know. My Daddy wouldn't approve..." she sighed.

The pastor picked her up and threw her on the bed. He pulled off her panties, held her legs up against his chest and thrust hard into her dripping wet pussy.

"Oh My!" Donna Lee said.

The pastor thrust hard, almost violently, into pretty little Donna Lee. The bright light of day streamed into her small windows, and the thick, humid air engulfed them, pulling a shiny sheen of sweat to the surface of their skin. Donna Lee could feel the slipperiness of the pastor's chest against the back of her legs as his body moved.

"Fuck me Pastor! Fuck your little church girl!" she said, her voice breathless but insistent as she was fucked hard. "Oh my!"

Donna Lee could always sense the rising orgasm in her man, and she had a wonderful ability to join in if the situation was sufficiently erotic. This one certainly was. Simultaneous orgasms was one of her finest skills. As the pastor climbed toward one of the biggest he'd ever had, Donna Lee marched right up that hill with him, exploding in a spasming, quietly screaming melt-down that took the pastor on one of the sweetest rides of his life.

"Oh my!" Donna Lee said quietly when the rush had calmed. "That's way better than any book I've ever read."

The pastor was still fucking her, slowly and gently as his cock softened, and Donna Lee moaned, a low moan from deep within her.

"Lie down with me Pastor, and let this steamy air seep into us," Donna Lee said.

She took off her bra as he lay himself down, and she nestled up against his sweaty body, her leg thrown over his big thigh, her hand caressing his chest.

"I do believe this is my favorite morning of my entire life," she said.

"I may have to agree," the pastor said as they both closed their eyes.

After nearly dozing off in the summer heat, Donna Lee's hand found the pastor's still sticky cock, and it swelled with life as she massaged it.

"Looks like we can work on another chapter," she said sweetly as she felt it grow. "This may sound kinky, but I've always dreamt of a man of the cloth taking me from behind. I want to feel that silver cross around your neck dangling on my back with you deep inside me. Do you think we could do that Pastor?"

"Yes, Ma'am, we can certainly do that," the pastor said. "Would you do me the favor of wearing your Sunday bonnet Donna Lee?"

"Why yes I will!" Donna Lee said, thrilled at being asked.

She took the pretty white hat with the yellow bow and the wide, lacy brim off the hook and put it on. The purity of her nakedness, her glorious, radiant smile, and the pretty hat on her head was the prettiest picture of womanhood the pastor had ever seen.

"You are a sight for sore eyes Donna Lee," he said.

Donna Lee crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees. The pastor ran his hands over her warm skin, still moist from their sweaty fuck. His hands found her dangling breasts, small but oh so pretty, and the hard nipples that gave away her arousal.

"Would you do me the favor of wearing your clergy shirt Pastor?" Donna Lee asked with a moan as he fondled her tits. "Leave it open in the front, so your cross can dangle on me."

The Pastor pulled on his shirt and Donna Lee's eyes gave away her excitement. The Pastor took his position behind her, his hard cock sliding into her now familiar insides.

"Oh Donna Lee!" he moaned as he bottomed out, balls deep.

Donna Lee looked back over her shoulder, peaking out under the wide brim of her hat at the sight she'd dreamt of since she was a girl: a man of the cloth, fucking her deep from behind, in her Sunday-go-to-church hat no less.

Donna Lee's pussy was a glorious thing, still tight even after all the cocks she'd had in her, and possessing muscular control that drove men wild. For some reason those muscles were at their best in the doggie position, and the Pastor was reveling in every contraction. So mind altering was the feeling he almost forgot about Donna Lee's request, but it did finally make its way into his overwhelmed brain and he lowered his upper body down. The cross around his neck was a hefty one, on a thick silver chain, and when Donna Lee felt it dangling on her sweaty back shivers went through her and goosebumps raised on every square inch of her flesh. Usually she had perfect control over her orgasms, but one rose up unexpected when she felt that cross, washing over her like warm water from heaven itself. It was a slow-burn orgasm, staying with her for the longest time as the world around her ceased to exist.

The pastor knew she was flying, and it didn't take long for him to join her in that heady place, soaring through the heavens even as their bodies were rooted to the earth, intermingled in life's purest form.

Momma and the girls put down their books and got up off their lounge chairs when the pastor emerged from the kitchen door onto the back deck. Donna Lee was on his arm, in her pretty yellow dress and hat.

"I do hope you enjoyed your tour of our home," Mamma said to the pastor.

"Yes indeed," he said. "It is a special place, I must say. So peaceful and rejuvenating."

"We hope you'll come by often," Momma said. "The girls would all love to show you their rooms. There's some special treasures for you to discover."

"I believe I've already discovered one. Very special indeed," he said, looking at Donna Lee. "I'm afraid though, I really must be going. A busy afternoon awaits."

The girls all walked the pastor to the boarding ladder and watched as his little skiff buzzed away, all of them waving, their pretty dresses blowing in the summer breeze.

About once a month or so that buzzing outboard motor pushes that little skiff out to Oar House with the pastor in his black preacher clothes at the controls. It's always on a quiet, peaceful morning, when he's the only visitor. He's had a 'tour' of each of the girl's rooms, and is working his way back through the line-up for the second time. Donna Lee always looks forward to her next turn with the pastor, and the rapturous orgasms that always overtake her when she's with him.

"It's as if God himself is fucking me," she's said more than once.

————————

When Mama had first introduced the Pastor to Donna Lee, and told him she had been with her on Oar House for nine years, it made Mama aware of the passage of time, and how special the big barge and all the girls had been to her. Without telling anybody, she began planning a celebration party to take place on the ten year anniversary of the day she first stepped behind the big ship's wheel, the day she broke free of the dock for the first time as Oar House's captain.

Captain Eugene had been helping her with the plans. Music is a way of life in New Orleans, and everybody knows at least a handful of musicians. Eugene, an amateur trumpet player himself, knew dozens of 'em, so he put together a dixieland band for the party, hand picking men and two women that he knew would have a ball when the wild party got rolling.

As the big day grew closer Momma of course told the girls all about the party plans, so they could all join in the preparations. The girls were thrilled with the idea of a big blow-out, a wild party to end all wild parties, and they took pride in sprucing up Oar House so she'd look her best on the big day. All of their free time was spent with scrub brushes, sandpaper and paint brushes in their hands, a smiling group of happy women, slathering paint on each other's half naked bodies and laughing hysterically as they dove in the sparkling water to clean themselves up.

Momma helped out of course, but she also had her hands full planning the menu and the drink situation, gradually stocking in cases of every kind of liquor and wine you can imagine. She hired two bartenders, and a mother/daughter catering team to help prepare food and do the serving. The mother/daughter thing worried her a little until she met them, but they assured Momma they'd 'seen it all' and were eager to take the job. Momma could sense that news of the celebration was getting around, and folks from all walks of life were angling to somehow be onboard for the big event.

The guest list was difficult for Momma. Oar House was a big barge, but she didn't want it so crowded that it was dangerous or uncomfortable, so she decided one-hundred would be the magic number, not counting the various workers. Her long-time customers were in, of course, as were any of the law enforcement and Coast Guard community that looked after her. Some of them were grateful for the invitation but decided not to attend lest it be too publicly conspicuous. The pastor was invited but politely declined. Old Mitch would of course be there, as would his grandson K.K. and K.K.'s best friend, who had become regular customers. Scratch Wilson and a bunch of the shrimp boat fisherman would be there too.

A week before the big day the girls heard a helicopter approaching, thinking it was one of the usual flybys by the Coast Guard boys.

"What the heck's he got hangin' underneath?" Ashley said.

Momma heard it too and came out on deck.

"Make way girls. Got a surprise comin'," she said.

As the helicopter got closer the girls realized is wasn't the Coast Guard, it was a private chopper with a large piece of furniture hanging under it, a beautifully carved wooden bar from a building that was being renovated in the French Quarter. Eugene had gotten word that it was available to anyone who could haul it away, so he called in a few favors, secured an invitation to Momma's party for the helicopter owner, and there they were, lowering it down onto the upper deck of Oar House. After they set it down, Eugene jumped out of the chopper and had the pilot lift it again so he could place it just so, exactly where Momma had envisioned it. All the girls stood and watched in wonder at the magical arrival, most of them half naked, with their hair blowing wildly in the wind from the big swirling chopper blades. It was a sight to see.

The arrival of the bar was the final piece of the puzzle. Oar House was ready for Momma's celebration. The day of the party dawned with a deep blue sky, the humid haze of summer blown out to sea. The old barge gleamed in the sunlight as the girls took their morning showers. Excitement was in the air throughout the morning and afternoon as the caterers and bartenders arrived to get things set-up. Momma made a lot of food, but the caterers brought in a lot too. There was a steady parade as the girls helped unload container after container from the small boat they came on.

Up top, the old bar sat under a large awning, decorated underneath with twinkle lights. The bartenders, a young man and a young woman, tapped the kegs and got the liquor set up how they wanted it. The band arrived in Eugene's boat, and set-up at the edge of the upper deck, so they could be seen and heard from the lower deck too, which Momma envisioned as a dance floor. It too was decorated with twinkle lights, and a few artificial palm trees. Eugene sprung into action coordinating everything, so Momma could concentrate on her food and helping the girls get ready.

Seven o'clock rolled around and the early evening air was full of the sound of small boats approaching. Everything was ready, and the girls looked spectacular.

"God must have swatted away all the bugs for us Momma," Donna Lee said as she stood at the rail watching the approaching fleet of partiers. Momma had purposefully dropped anchor in a spot that was as bug-free as they could find, and the nice gentle breeze was just right to keep the 'little shits' at bay.

Donna Lee had on a tiny black dress, low-cut in the front and backless, the whole thing covered with shimmery, silvery fringe. She had her hair cut at the salon a few days before, in the style of a flapper girl from the 1920's, and she looked the part in the most delicious of ways.

All the girls were lining up at the rail as the small boats began to tie up. Ashley in a little yellow dress that fit her like paint on skin, Coralee in a ruffly bustier corset and stockings with her smooth pussy and massive tits on full display, Lisa Lou looking spectacular in the reddest red dress anyone had ever seen, Taylor showing off her nearly perfect body in a see-through chiffon number with nothing underneath, and Red in another 'she must have painted it on' dress in emerald green.

Donna Lee almost cried when she saw the guests start to climb up the boarding ladder one by one. Every single person had a book in their hand, which Eugene started collecting and stacking against the side of the cabin. Scratch Wilson, it turned out, had spread the word.

"Momma!" Donna Lee exclaimed, "Look at all those books!"

Momma made her way to the side deck to greet the guests. An artist friend of hers in the city had made her a new dress for the occasion, the design block printed by hand. Momma had drawn the design herself — a series of sexual positions abstracted a bit into pure line and form, rendered in colorful ink on the crisp white cotton fabric. With dozens of bracelets and a spectacular handmade necklace, she looked every bit the queen of the ship.

Soon there were thirty or more small boats tied up to each other against the side of Oar House, most of the guests were onboard, and the band kicked off the party with a swingin' version of Way Down Yonder In New Orleans.

Momma and Eugene had done a stellar job with the guest list, including an almost equal number of women to men. Early on in the planning Momma wasn't sure if it was possible, as most of the friends of a business like hers were men. But as word got out, she realized there were plenty of women interested in being there, including her hairdresser, two former neighbors from the French Quarter, some friends of the girls, and even a few wives of her customers, which surprised her. Red's sister flew in from New York City, two of Coralee's cousins drove over from Mississippi, and Lisa Lou's best friend from Texas made the trip, even though she was nervous about the whole thing. Lisa Lou was nervous to have her there too, knowing the party was probably going to turn into a wild orgy of epic proportions. All-in-all about forty-five women guests were onboard to compliment the female 'staff', and about fifty-five men.

After a couple of tunes the band was really in the groove, drinks were flowing, people were dancing, daylight was dimming.

"Scratch you beautiful man!" Donna Lee yelled down from the upper deck when she heard a small boat arrive late. "Look at all those books!" She pointed at the piles leaning against the cabin side.

"Isn't that a beautiful thing!" Scratch yelled up. "You'll be so busy readin' you won't have time to fuck me no more!"

"Scratch Wilson I'll fuck you 'till the day I die!" Donna Lee yelled down, and the crowd who could hear her laughed.

"I'd like to see that! Right here, right now!" someone yelled, and there were lots of whoops and cheers.

"You get up here Scratch, right now!" Donna Lee said. She was more excited than she could remember, and damned if she wasn't about to kick off the orgy.

Scratch had finally made his way across all the small boats, hopping from one to another to get to the ladder, and he scrambled up it quicker than quick. A few moments later he was on the upper deck and Donna Lee embraced him and kissed him hard, right in front of the band.

The leader of the band sensed what was happening and he called out a new tune, the music turning on a dime to a greasy, down and dirty version of Ain't Misbehavin'. Donna Lee wasted no time pulling Scratch's big cock out. The eight incher the girls loved so much slithered down her throat nicer than one of Momma's hors d'oeuvres, and the crowd whooped it up again. A few moment's later Donna Lee's little black flapper dress was up around her waist, her pretty body bent over with her hands on the banjo player's shoulders as he played. Her high heels had her sweet ass at the perfect height, and Scratch fucked her deep. The banjo player had a perfect view of her tits inside her little dress. When she kissed him he missed a few strums, but he did pretty well considering.

Dixieland is a flexible, improvisational music, and the band rung out Ain't Misbehavin' for all it was worth as the fucking rose in intensity. The two women in the band, on drums and clarinet, were wide eyed as they watched Scratch gave it to Donna Lee like he had never done before, spurred on as he was by the cheering crowd and the intensity of the blaring horns at close range. It was a wild, almost hallucinogenic experience for both he and Donna Lee, the two of them cumming with incredible ferocity as the band worked to a crescendo worthy of the great Louis Armstrong himself.