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I am awakened early the next morning by wonderfully pleasant sensations coursing through my cock! I open my eyes and look down to see Bob, with my cock deep in her mouth, looking up at me!
She stops what she is doing, just long enough to say impishly ” you win, I caved!” and goes right back to sucking my cock. I just lay there, with my arms folded behind my neck and simply allow the feelings of pure ecstasy to build and build, until it was useless to try to hold back the inevitable any longer, I am going to cum and cum hard, ready, or not!
A wave of orgasmic pleasure hit me so hard and so fast, that I feared I might pass out from the sheer intensity of it. I was cumming so hard that my stomach muscles were rhythmically contracting as if I were receiving an electrical shock. The only thing that I can do besides grunt and moan…is to grab onto Bobs head and hold on for dear life!
Bob sucks the last drops of cum from my cock, then crawls up to lay her head on my chest, while I regain my senses.
“Morning Captain!” she says with a big smile “Hope you weren’t freaked out too much last night, by all that happened!”
“Got to admit, a lot happened last night, that I never thought I would ever live to see. and damn sure never thought I would ever experience.
But I honestly cannot say that I was actually freaked out by any of it! All just seemed so strangely normal and natural at the time. I guess, I just let the “little head” lead the way and did not allow the big head time to overthink things and cloud the issue, like I usually do.
Now I am not sure that it was something that I would want to engage in on a regular basis, but I am really glad, that for once, I allowed myself the chance to experience something new and different, without stopping to worry about what someone else might think about it.”
“Stick around, you might be surprised at all the new tricks we can teach an old dog like you” she joked.
Bob and I lay there in bed for a while longer, then decide that if we hope to make New Orleans by nightfall, we had best be getting busy. Bob says that she needs to take a quick shower, so I pat her on the butt and say in a joking manner “Need me to help wash your back?”
“If you think the shower will fit the two of us…then be my guest” Bob says with grin
When I had said it, I had only been teasing. But now that the idea had been hatched…I thought, “Why not” and decide to give it a try.
Even though my wife and I have a huge walk-in shower, with overhead raindrop nozzles at home… large enough that half a dozen people could probably shower together. My wife would never ever even consider… letting me shower with her, not in a million fucking years!
“DON’T BE NASTY!” I can almost hear her snarling at me right now, just thinking about it.
Bob and I strip off our clothes, get the water running and then both of us step inside the shower stall and close the door. It is definitely a snug fit for the two of us…but not nearly as cramped as one might have imagined.
As we stand there, I cannot decide which feels better, the streams of hot water cascading over our naked bodies, or the feel of her firm supple breasts pressed tightly against my chest.
My cock is voting for the breasts, as it begins to rise up and grow firm. It was not at full rigidity just yet, but it was definitely making its presence known.
Bob poured some liquid soap into the palm of her hands, rubbed them together to get a good lather going…then began to wash and massage my chest and belly…she pressed her breasts into me even tighter, as she reached behind me and applied the soap to my back and butt.
I got myself a handful of soap and whipped up a good lather as well and repeated the process for her. Admittedly, I probably spent a whole lot more time applying the soap and massaging her breasts than was needed for cleaning purposes, but as her nipples hardened in the palms of my hands, I assumed that I was doing the job properly.
I pull her in close to me and reach behind her to wash her back and made extra sure that both of her butt cheeks were squeaky clean.
We must have been thinking alike….as we both lathered up our hands again and went to work soaping each other’s genitals. I swear, I do not think that my cock has EVER been cleaned so well, and I feel like I was doing a very meticulous job of cleaning her vaginal area as well.
Without a word, Bob looks up at me, throws her arms around my neck and hops up… wrapping her legs around my waist, locking her ankles together behind me.
I lean back, to brace myself against the wall of the shower stall and plant my feet against the opposite wall. Wedged in there like that with little or no chance of us slipping or falling in the shower, I grasped her sweet little butt cheeks and lifted her up until her pussy was directly above my throbbing cock. As I eased her down, my cock slid easily into her pussy, all the way to my balls. As I held tightly her soapy ass cheeks…she bounces up and down Escort Sarıyer on my cock. the wet flesh of her tits slapping me on the chin on the upstroke…causing my nut sack to swing violently bank and forth, slapping her asshole on each down stroke.
I know that there was no way that we can remain in this position for much longer. but we do not need to! She begins to squeeze my neck tighter…and bounce up and down on my cock harder and faster until I feel her whole body become rigid, as if she has suddenly turned into a statue. “Oh FUUUUCCCKKK” she screams in my ear as her orgasm hit her. At about the same time, my nut sack draws up tight against the base of my cock. cum roaring up from deep in my balls and spews out of my cock like white hot lava from a volcano. Nothing is going to stop it flowing… I fill her spasming vagina to overflowing.
She unlocks her ankles, and I ease my grip on her butt as she slides off my cock and gets her feet planted firmly on the shower stall floor. Rivulets of cum are draining from her vagina and running down the insides of her thigh. Although my own legs were feeling weak and wobbly…I help her wash away the evidence of our coupling… Then we step out of the shower stall to help each other get dried off.
We got ourselves dressed, and as we step out of the shower room. Tom and Ingrid were sitting at the galley table and give us a round of applause!
“Thought you two were going to capsize the boat, you had it rocking so much” Tom teased.
“Don’t be giving them a tough time Tom” Ingrid replied “After all, they were just in there having some nice clean fun!” she quipped
Over a breakfast of ham, scrambled eggs, and toast. We discussed the plans for today.
“Barring any difficulties, we should be able to reach New Orleans before dark” I say ” A lot will depend upon boat traffic, river conditions and weather. We are getting closer to the coast, so tropical storms can pop up rather quickly and they can dump a lot of rain in a hurry. Which will make it just that much more difficult to navigate…in unfamiliar waters. Debris can be floating in the water, and it will be hard to see. So, we may be forced to slow the ship down drastically to avoid damaging the hull or the rudder or lose a prop”
“I’ve only got spotty reception on my cell phone, so I am not even sure what the forecast is for the area. So, if the sky starts looking rough or looks like a storm might be brewing…we may have to change plans and find somewhere to hunker down to wait out the storm. I am brand new at all of this myself and just throwing out some ideas about what COULD happen, so that we can be alert to dangerous situations. We’ve made it much too far, to be taking any foolish chances, or to be caught unaware.”
“Do you think we will be stopping any place along the way for supplies” Ingrid asks “Still have several things I can cook, but we are running a little low on some things”
“Not really any major stops showing on the charts, but I am sure that there will be somewhere along the way where you can pick up a few things, while we fuel up” I assure her
We strike out for New Orleans under warm clear skies. Waters are calm but appear to be the consistency of a cup of hot chocolate. The river has many more twists and turns than I was anticipating and there seemed to be a lot more hazard buoys dotting the channel.
Along about noon, I begin to wonder if I am still on the right route because this is looking NOTHING like I was expecting the Mississippi river to look like. It is starting to look swampier than being a “mighty river”. I am still seeing channel and mile markers, so I am fairly certain we have not veered off course and gone down a tributary, but it still gives me cause for concern.
We approach what looks to be a local fisherman, so I decide to flag him down and ask if there are any fuel docks or marinas nearby.
“Hello!” I call out
“Bonjour!” he waves to us as he approaches “Comment ca va?” he says in Cajun French
“Do you speak English?” I asked
“Mai oui…I do” he says jovially
I tell him that we are on our way to New Orleans and that we are from Missouri
“Oh, I tink you done took you self a wrong turn, Mon Ami” he says ” der ain’t no place to get fuel or nuttin’ round here for two hunnert mile, either direction! Y’all shoulda took the Tennessee-Tombigbee route. Saved you self a heap of worry and trouble.”
“We are still on the Mississippi river, aren’t we? I ask
“Dat you sure are” he replies
“Well, I thought sure that there would at least be fuel available somewhere, before we get to New Orleans, it shows a few places on my river navigation charts, but we haven’t found any of them”
“Few year back, dat were likely true” he said, ” Better check the date on your charts, Mon Ami… probably made before Katrina and Ida” he says “Everyting changed round here after does storms! They done washed out what marinas and fuel stops they was. Then all dem high flood dikes Silivri escort bayan got built to hold the water in and keep the people out…till der ain’t hardly nuttin or nobody left roun here cept some gators an a few ole Couyons like me, sha”
“Okay, so how much fuel do you think we might need…to make it to New Orleans” I ask, beginning to feel uneasy
“Won’t do you no good even if you do make it to New Orleans, if you stops on the Mississippi river side, dey ain’t nothin’ dare neither! Ya’ll have to take the Rigolets through to Lake Ponchatrain…Den you back in business podnar, Fuel, Food, Marinas the works…you in civilization once again, If’n you wants to call it dat”
“Okay, so how much fuel do you think we will need to get to Lake Ponchatrain?” I ask, starting to feel extremely nervous, for the first time this whole trip!
“Reckon you looking at 230 mile at least” he says
We chit chat a bit more, before he pushes off “Au revoir!” he calls out as he leaves “Hope you pass you selves a good time in Nawlins!” as he paddles away.
Bob, Tom, and Ingrid all rush to me, to hear what the man had said.
“Well, I’m not going to lie” I tell them ” He says that there is no place to buy fuel or supplies until we actually get to New Orleans…and even after we get there, we have to get to Lake Ponchatrain before we will find any!”
“No shit!” They all said in unison.
“That is exactly what he told me, and I can’t see any reason for him to lie”
“What the fuck we supposed to do?” Bob wonders
“Right now, my plan is to take a quick inventory. I have a stick that we can use to measure how much fuel is left in the tank. I DO have some extra fuel in Gerry Cans so hopefully between what is in the tank and what is in the cans…we will have enough to get us there. Might be burning fumes when we do…but that is about our only option, unless you three want to get out and help the alligators push the ship the rest of the way!”
“ALLIGATORS!” Ingrid exclaimed
” We got busy and measured the contents of the fuel tank, do some calculations to figure how many gallons we have left…then add in the spare fuel I have stored in the Gerry cans….and decide that it will be close…VERY CLOSE. but we should be able to make it!
We pour the spare fuel in the tanks…hoping and praying that this will be enough.
As we get under way again, I try to find a “happy medium” with the throttle. I want the engines running just fast enough that I can safely keep the ship under control in the swirling currents. but not so fast as to burn any more fuel than is absolutely necessary.
Bob stays in the wheelhouse with me…keeping me company and helping me to watch for hazards in the waters up ahead. Tom and Ingrid disappear for a while… “dwindling down their condom supply, I rather suspect!”
About an hour later, Tom and Ingrid return to the wheelhouse…with something hidden behind their backs…both grinning like Cheshire cats.
“So…..what have you two been doing or do I even dare to ask? I tease
“We’ve been fishing!” said Ingrid gleefully ” and we caught six!”
With that they produce a string of nice sized catfish
“Just how in the world did you manage that?” I ask incredulously
“DUH” says Ingrid “Tom and I both grew up near the river. We’ve fished for catfish many times”
“But how did you catch them…what did you use for equipment or bait?” I asked, still perplexed
“Tom brought some hooks and line from the old man, when he wouldn’t take any money for the condoms. I took some bread…mixed it with some other things and made us some dough bait. tossed the bait in the water behind the boat and BAM…we had us a fish. Kept doing that until we had enough for two apiece! Tom’s gonna help me clean them and we can have them for supper!”
“Well, I’ll be damned” I say
Bob and I keep the ship zig zagging though the marked channels….as we inched our way closer and closer to our destination. We pass by several dredge boats…working tirelessly to keep the channel open and as free of sand and silt as they can. Then along about 5 pm we begin to see more boat traffic on the water…more barges, and more personal watercraft like power boats and sail boats and the like.
Right where the charts indicated it would be, we see the mouth of the Rigolets and steer toward it. Twelve or so miles down this strait lies Lake Ponchatrain. once on the lake we can see portions of the city teeming with life.
I check my cell phone and find that I have full service once again…so I quickly google marinas near me…and see that the South Shore Harbor Marina is closest, so I give them a call. I am informed that they do have a few slips available for transients and will be awaiting our arrival.
I relay the good news to Bob “What do you mean transients? This ain’t no place with homeless people living on boats, is it? she asks with concern in her voice…
“No…by transient. Topkapı escort they mean boats that do not have a permanent place to dock. Local residents lease slips year-round. Transient slips are for people like us… not permanent residents, here to visit for a while and then move on.”
“Whew! Had me worried there for a second. was having flashbacks of living in my car and being rousted out in the middle of the night by police officers and threatened with jail for being a transient if I did not move my car somewhere else. Which I thought was bold of them, to assume that my car could even move… under its own power!” she laughed.
We tie off at the end of the pier and I make my way over to the harbor masters office. Pay for a full-service slip for at least the next week. Then maneuver the ship around the harbor until I find our slip and ease the bow into it. Bob has already thrown bumpers over the side…and has jumped ship, to start tying off the mooring lines.
Once we have the ship secured and have hooked up to the water, sewer, and electricity. We give each other a high five! Just out of curiosity, I grab the fuel measuring stick…and dip it in the tank. When I pull it out, I can just barely see a trace of fuel on the bottom of the stick. just guessing, I would say that we MIGHT have two or three gallon of fuel left. Using the WAG or “Wild Ass Guess” fuel consumption calculation method…I would say we had maybe 1 or 2 miles of fuel left!
Just as we make our way toward the hatch, Ingrid pops up and says “Food is ready”
There before us, on the table is a plate piled high with catfish fried golden brown. a bowl of salad and a bowl of piping hot hush puppies.
The fish was absolutely incredible, tender flaky white meat that simply melts in your mouth! I see Tom and Ingrid split their hush puppies in half and spread butter on them, so I gave their method a try. I will never eat another hush puppy any other way. I honestly was never too impressed with the ones I had tried before, because they were just too dry for my tastes. Split them apart and spread on some real butter and it is game on! Think I scarfed down at least a dozen of them by myself.
After we all helped Ingrid clean up. I ask if anyone wants to venture down to the French Quarter and enjoy some New Orleans style night life.
“Remember I don’t have no fancy clothes” reminded Bob
“Not planning on going anyplace fancy…just figured we can walk around the French Quarter for a bit, kind of get a feel for the place…and maybe make some plans to do something fun tomorrow.”
So, we all take turns showering, changing into some comfortable “walking around” clothes and walk up past the harbor guards post and down the street to a bus stop. Did not have long to wait, before a bus pulled up with its “French Quarter” sign lit up. We created a bit of a delay, in departing. since we did not have passes and the driver could not accept cash. The driver was very polite and cordial and asked how long we would be staying in the city and if we had a credit card…which I did…stashed away for emergencies…so she tells me it would be much cheaper to buy a pass, good for a week…that way we can ride the buses and the street cars as much as we want. So, I dug out my card, and she runs it through a machine on the bus and out pops four passes… easy as that!
We were all in culture shock as we ride the bus through the city until it finally stops at the Canal Street bus stop in the “neutral zone,” and we start to disembark.
“Just head down that street over there. that is Bourbon Street, and it runs east, and west. Just keep going that way and you will be in the French Quarter, in no time, the bus driver tells us…”Y’all have fun! Laissez les bon temps rouler,” and waves goodbye to us, as other passengers begin to board the bus.
It was amazing to us…to see how quickly everything around us changes as we walk. One minute ago, we had been standing in the street of a modern bustling city…then suddenly we are surrounded by quaint buildings that have been there for hundreds of years!
Two story buildings with wrought iron railings on the verandas above. If I had not known better, I would have sworn that we had been transported back to another place in time, and to another country
. Then we see a young couple…the man shirtless and wearing leather pants…leading a young woman, with a leash and a studded dog collar… who is wearing nothing but pasties with tassels on her breasts, and a tiny “G” string that barely covered anything, and I think to myself “Nope, we are definitely in New Orleans in the good ole U.S.of A!”
“NO!” Says Bob poking me in my ribs with her elbow after the couple has passed by “I ain’t wearing no fucking dog collar, you can just get that thought out of your perverted little mind right now!” she jokes.
“Awe, but you would look so good in leather” I tease back.
As we pass by each building, our senses were forced into overload. There were wonderful smells of food cooking coming at us from everywhere with different genres of music playing everywhere we went. Several people we met on the street, are obviously on their way to being VERY drunk…but yet are holding on to various sized and shaped drinks as if their life depends on it…as they stagger along.
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