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Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport

By: SexyGeek



My valet Octavius came into the drawing room with a silver tray in his hand. "This was just delivered, master," he said in a quiet voice. I thought about the many years of training it took for a Negro slave to learn cultured tones. Octavius was admired throughout all of New Orleans as the perfect example of a gentleman's valet. I took the envelope from him. With my ivory handled letter opener I slit the flap. A heavy card of fine linen paper was inside. Drawing it out I saw the inscription in delicate feminine writing: "M. Deveraux, Parcbeau Plantation, by hand." Curious, I turned the card over and read with great delight.

"Mme. LaFontaine has the pleasure to invite M. Deveraux to a special evening of sport and conversation for a select group of gentlemen, Friday the 7th at 9 PM."

There was nothing I enjoyed more than making the trip across Lake Pontchartrain to New Orleans to visit madame LaFontaine's Palais du Sport. It contained all that the gentry of New Orleans needed for their entertainment. There we could find Cuban cigars, French wines, Scotch whiskey, good gambling and exciting women. Unquestionably worth the trip. I rang the bell and told Octavius, "We will be going to the city this weekend." He bowed low and said nothing. Somehow I had the feeling he already knew that, although the invitation had been sealed.

Friday afternoon the steam launch he had ordered appeared at our dock. With Octavius carrying my baggage, I boarded and sat down in the bar for a whiskey and soda as we crossed the lake. We soon reached the city. The hack carriage I had ordered was waiting for me. I settled in as Octavius loaded the bags, and told the driver "Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport."

"Yassuh," he answered, "Miss Marie's Sporting House it is!" I winced. I knew the population of New Orleans sometimes used that vulgar appellation, but it did not suit the gentlemen I knew would be in attendance tonight.

When we arrived, I saw other carriages carrying the power and influence of New Orleans pulling up. I tipped my hat to Judge Beaulais, M. Delacroix of the bank, Senor Martinez who controlled the Santa Fe trade, Mr. Jackson the lawyer, and Colonel Robais from the Presidio. The thought crossed my mind that the biggest part of all the power and money in New Orleans was in the control of the six men gathering here tonight. I was glad I had thought to equip myself with sufficient gold for the evening's activities.

Octavius went off to join the other body servants and hack drivers in the shanties across the creek. I had given him enough money to ensure that he could enjoy himself with the other slaves. "A well treated servant is an obedient servant," is my motto.

We six men entered Mme. LaFontaine's parlour and settled down in the easy chairs. We noted that the chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, and the far portion of the room had been curtained off with heavy velvet hangings. As we helped ourselves to cigars and ordered our libations, there was speculation about what this might portend. We all assumed that there was a stellar entertainment planned and also that there would be opportunity for sporting wagers among us. But we did not know what madame had planned for us.

Gregoire, the piano player, and one of the most talented slaves in New Orleans, entered and began soft classical music. Then Madame Marie LaFontaine swept into the room. She is well known as a stunning beauty, dressed in the finest silk and satin and wearing a feather boa. Her maid copies all the latest French styles as soon as the fashion dolls cross the ocean wearing them. Her blonde hair flowed down over her magnificent bosom, which was delightfully displayed by her decollete gown. She had a long ivory holder in which she smoked one of those strange little paper wrapped things that are becoming known as cigarettes. Her face was heavily rouged, her eyes were shaded with kohl, and her lips tinted red. She was quite the most gorgeous beauty in New Orleans.

We all knew her story. She had been the belle of her season at the age of eighteen, attracting attention from the eligible beaux of the entire region. That is, until it was found that Mirabelle Plantation was heavily mortgaged and the bank had called in her father's note. The family was thrown into ruin. Her father and elder brother committed suicide, and the other brother left for parts unknown. Miss Marie was left with nothing but her notorious good looks and a knowledge of all the secrets of everyone from all of the old families of society.

Somehow she wheedled a loan from M. Delacroix's bank to buy this house by the river, and soon she discreetly let it be known among the gentlemen of society that they were welcome there. After more than fifteen years in business, she was a lady of wealth, although of course not received in what was called good company. Of all the gentlemen who patronized her establishment regularly, we six were the cream of the crop. We eagerly awaited her announcement.

"Mes beaux messieurs," she exclaimed, "it is so kind of you to join my soiree. I have the most exciting announcement to make to the gentlemen of New Orleans, and I thought you six should be the first to know. It is my delight tonight to present to you my newest girls."

With that, the curtains at the far end of the room were opened, and we all gasped at the seven beautiful girls it revealed. Each stood in the famous Kore pose of the Greek statues, arms at their sides and the left leg extended forward. They were all still as if carved in stone, all had their eyes downcast, and all were completely naked. Their graceful pose displayed their breasts openly and allowed their pussies to peek gently from between their legs. Diaphanous cloths barely covered parts of their bodies. Two Negro men, clad only in leopard skin loincloths, stood on each side of the tableau, fanning huge ostrich feather fans which lightly moved the soft fabrics over the girls' skin.

"I present my treasures to you," said Madame. "You will find their names easy to remember. The first is Annemarie." She pointed to the girl on the left end, a Negress of magnificent proportions, with large breasts surmounted by prominent nipples of deepest black. Her pose allowed us to see that her pubic hair was black and curly, and the dark lips of her pussy peeked out of it. Every man in the room gazed in admiration.

"Next is my Belle," she continued. Belle was what we all recognized as a Creole of color, half white and half black. She had beautiful chocolate breasts tipped with nipples almost maroon in color, surrounded by large puffy areolae. Her stomach was flat and her legs firm. Her pubis was shaved clean, a glossy brown color above the darker brown lips of her pussy. She showed the best attributes of girls of both the races that made her heritage. All of us were well aware of the common saying, "Every plantation wife knows the origin of the half-breed children on every estate except her own."

None of the girls moved a muscle, as the music played and the fans slowly stirred the air. "And now little Clarisse," said our hostess. All the men in the room knew exactly the fine distinctions of color. Clarice was what we called a high yellow girl, probably one-quarter black. Her skin was dusky but not black. She had long flowing black hair, which fell down over her pointed breasts. Her belly button was attractively deep and the hair on her pussy mound had been trimmed short in the shape of a heart.

"The next girl is Desideria," said Madame. This girl was Spanish, we all knew, probably having come from Texas to the West of us. She had light brown skin, fiery eyes, and a disorderly mop of black hair. Crimson lipstick touched her lips and her nipples. Between her legs the top of her pussy was just visible, with the lips tightly closed.

"And now Emilee," she continued. Emilee was white of skin and black of hair. We all knew exactly what to look for, and in her lips, her fingernails, and other subtle signs we saw the marks of an octoroon, one-eighth Negro and otherwise pure white. Of course in our eyes this meant she was forever banned from the white world and despite her light skin color lived among the Negroes. Octoroon girls are highly regarded and considered good companions for gentlemen any place that their ladies are not present. 

Emilee's skin was white and her breasts were smooth as milk. Pink confections of nipples stuck up from them tantalizingly. A very fine line of dark hair trailed down from her navel to the top of her pussy lips which showed pink. She was as fine an octoroon girl as New Orleans had seen for many seasons.

"The next is Felicia," announced Madame. Felicia was without a doubt an Acadian girl, the kind they are beginning to call Cajun. French ancestry mixed with living in the bayous gave her an attractively wild look. She was tall and thin, and her breasts stood up so that the nipples practically pointed at the ceiling. Her ribs showed faintly down her sides, and her stomach was very flat, emphasizing the mound of brown hair over her pussy. Long long legs had all of us thinking of being entwined between them.

"And the last is Grainne, our Irish beauty," intoned the proprietor. Some Irish were coming into the region and this girl was a grand example. Small, short, and topped with flaming red hair, she had beautiful blue eyes and dainty red lips. Her breasts were small and perfectly rounded, and nipples like rosebuds poked out of them. All the way down her body the skin was white and flawless, and over her pussy a soft nest of sparse red hair grew. She was a sight not often seen in New Orleans in these days. 

At that, Gregoire gave a crashing chord on the piano and the slaves closed the curtain. We all groaned at the disappearance of so much beauty. Mme. LaFontaine assured us, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, they will return, I assure you! But first there is a protege of mine you must meet. Toulouse, come out here."

At those words, a man stepped in the door and joined our hostess. He was tall, thin to the point of emaciation, and had a small moustache that could only be considered an affectation. Madame went on, "Toulouse is a painter and sculptor of such skill. I know each and every one of you will be wanting to employ his talents to decorate your mansions. But first he must tell you of the project he had done for me."

"Ah, Madame, I kiss your fingertips," said the painter, suiting his actions to the words. "And Messieurs, I will tell you of the masterpiece I have created for my lovely hostess. The ancient Greeks were masters of the art of sculpture, and the statues they created are unmatched in the world -- until now! I have made for this palais such a sculpture as will be talked about over all New Orleans. Then I have painted it in the Trompe L'Oeil style which will surely fool every eye that sees it. And gentlemen, do you know where it is? Right behind this curtain!"

We were all trying to figure out exactly what this strange man was saying. Then Madame took up the story. "Yes, gentlemen, behind that curtain are my new girls. But the fact is that they are only six in number. The seventh is Toulouse's master work, his greatest nude statue, painted as only he could paint it. So realistic is his work that until this moment I am sure none of you realized that one of those girls is carved of stone. There are seven girls, gentlemen, and six of you. I invite each of you to venture $100 in gold and name the girl who does not breathe. The winner gets all the money, and if none of you are right...why then the money goes to Toulouse!"

We certainly were amazed at this challenge. In the few short minutes we had looked at the girls not one had moved. Their downcast eyes made it impossible to notice a blink, and the softly fanned draperies moving about their bodies made it impossible to detect a chest rising and falling with their breath. We had no clue except our own eyes to help us wager. Mme. LaFontaine certainly had chosen an interesting game to start this evening.

I had certainly looked each girl over closely, but my thoughts had been in entirely different directions. Now I tried to recall what I saw in each girl. The first, and the last, I eliminated in my mind. The dark pussy hair of Annemarie, and the light red curls of Grainne, would have been too hard for an artist to duplicate. Or would they?

Belle, the Creole girl, was the only one shaved clean. But would the game be fair if the artist had taken the easy way out, and avoided the challenge of the pubic hair? I thought not. Clarisse had her pubic hair trimmed into a heart. The artist's way of tempting us? Perhaps. Desidera was a perfect Spanish beauty, a type we knew well around here. I tried to remember her wild hair style and wondered if a sculptor could have done that?

Emilee was the very model of the octoroon courtesans of New Orleans. The fine shadings that marked her Negro blood would have been impossible for a sculptor to duplicate unless he knew the signs very well. We had never heard of this Toulouse. Was he sufficiently acquainted with New Orleans to duplicate a perfect octoroon before our trained eyes? From childhood we had learned the fine distinctions of race and we could not be fooled. Is that true?

Felicia and Grainne were white and whiter. That particular color that we call white, but is actually a mix of brown and pink, is notoriously hard for painters to achieve. Could they be eliminated?

Finally, I decided. The pussies would have to tell the tale. Leaving out Annemarie and Grainne because of the hair, what did I have left? Belle's glossy brown lips had set me to dreaming. I could not believe they were not to be mine in some future evening. Clarisse had a small pussy, and I had been distracted by the heart shaped trim of hair. Emilee's pussy had shown its fine pink inside lightly as she stood with one leg forward. And Felicia was so thin that her pussy lips had protruded from between her legs enticingly.

Desidera was the only one whose pussy was tightly closed, with no signs of the lips showing. I thought in my mind that this would be the easiest to sculpt and to paint, and the most in keeping with the ancient Greek style. Yes, my $100 gold piece would go to Desidera! I announced my choice to my gentlemen friends.

Each of them chose another girl. They all had various reasons for their bets. Six girls were chosen, and Clarisse, the high yellow girl, was the only one not selected. What if the painter really had fooled our eyes with that curly looking pussy hair trimmed into a heart? Well, we would find out.

The curtain opened again. Once again the girls had their eyes downcast and the fans moved the light cloths draped around them. Madame LaFontaine called their names one by one. The first was "Grainne." The Irish girl gracefully descended from the podium and did a pirouette in front of us all, showing her small perfect tits, her white ass, and the pink lips of her pussy under the light covering of red hair. I had been right, no sculptor could have duplicated that.

"Belle," was the next name called. Mr. Jackson groaned, because that had been his choice. He had considered her too perfect to be anything but a work of art. Perhaps she knew who had chosen her, because she came up to him and bowed lightly, letting her full breasts swing down enticingly. Then she wiggled her shoulders so they bounced in front of him.

Then our hostess called, "Emilee." The octoroon girl descended gracefully, and the Colonel winced. We all knew that octoroons were his especial taste. Then "Felicia" was called and the Acadian with the high pointed breasts came down, twirling around so we had a full view of her pretty ass. Then she kicked one of her long legs high in the air to display her pussy to us all.

I held my breath for the next name and it was "Annemarie." The black girl danced out shaking her big breasts, and as she neared us she curled her fingers in her pussy hair and pulled gently on it. I was sure no sculptor could have fooled us with that. The American Mr. Jackson had money on her. He was fascinated with blackness in his women.

Now only two girls were left, and I was the only one who had money on one of them. I waited for the next name to be called. The slaves waved their big fans so the flimsy drapes of the girls swirled around their tits and their hips. Finally Mme. LaFontaine drew a deep breath, and then announced, "Desidera!" My Spanish girl whirled down off the platform and came right to me, spinning around in front of me and then bending backwards so that her gorgeous pussy opened up and showed me the pink inside. Had she known what I was thinking all along? With sparkling eyes she gave me a long smile and danced away.

The darkies with the fans ceased their motion, and the strange little painter walked onto the stage and whisked the filmy cloths away from his creation. We all stared at "Clarisse" with wonder. The flowing hair, the pouting lips, and the finely trimmed heart in her pubis all still amazed us, they were so finely painted. The slight opening of her pussy lips would entice any man who did not know they were carved in the stone. Together the six gentlemen stood up and applauded, while the mistress handed $600 in gold to the painter.

"Gentlemen," said the Madame, "we have many more chances this evening for you to recover what you have lost. I know to men of your wealth it is but a trifle, but no gentleman likes to lose a gamble. Here is your next bet. My lovely little Irish girl Grainne has a special talent. Gentlemen, she is without a doubt expert in the art of blow jobs. Tonight we have a special question for you. Grainne, if you please, step out here."

The little Irish girl, beautifully naked, came onto the stage. She posed prettily, showing off her small round tits and her little pussy under its red hair. Then her tongue came out of her mouth and wiggled around at us in a teasing way. She smiled and bowed.

Then the Madame waved her hand and said, "Coriolanus, come here." Like many of us, she fancied naming her domestic slaves after classical figures. Coriolanus was one we all knew well because he served as bouncer for the establishment. Of course none of the gentlemen ever had his attentions, but on occasion some of the hoi polloi who came in needed to be eased out the door, and Coriolanus was not a man to be argued with. He stood almost seven feet tall and was of massive build. Tonight he wore only a white loincloth so his huge muscles rippled over his chest and legs as he walked.

Coriolanus posed with pride on the stage. Then at a gesture from his mistress, he dropped his loincloth and thrust out his hips. A collective gasp went through the gentlemen watching, as well those of the girls who could see what he displayed. His dangling schlong must have been at least a foot long, and as big around as my wrist. Recalling Madame's claim that Grainne was a cocksucking expert, I began to get an inkling what the bet was now.

"There you see it, gentlemen. Ready for action Coriolanus measures a full fourteen inches. For $100 in gold you will draw a number between eight and thirteen, and the pot goes to the one who correctly predicts how much of that length Grainne can take into her throat without gagging."

Here was a new game to bet on. We all willingly threw our gold pieces into the pot. Grainne passed among us with a plate, and we each drew a slip of paper. I had the number ten, and I thought that was a very lucky number. Surely the girl could manage eight, and surely she could not get to thirteen. So my chances of winning were high.

Each of us clutched our paper as the little girl knelt in front of the giant Negro. Madame proffered some flavored oil and the girl dribbled it on that massive cock. Then she began to stroke it with her hands and it slowly hardened. Soon we could see that it did indeed measure longer than any we had ever seen before. We all watched intently as the naked girl took it between her lips and started to suck. Slowly, slowly she took it in. We mentally measured in our minds as she moved down three inches, four, five, six. Then she began to come back up, but only part way, then started down again.


Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport Ch. 02



Chapter 2
A classical evening

I was sitting in my easy chair smoking a Cuban cigar and drinking French brandy. The articles in the Picayune were boring and I had no book to command my interest. Idly I opened a drawer and drew out a pack of French postcards.  The pictures on them were ones I had seen too many times and they no longer excited me.  I tapped the ash off my cigar and yawned broadly.

There was a light tap at the door, and my valet Octavius came silently into the room.  In his formal clothes and stiff demeanor he was the perfect gentleman's slave.  It had taken me many years of training to bring him from the Negro quarter into the drawing room, but now he was one of the most admired man-servants in all of Louisiana.  "A letter for you, master," he said, presenting a silver plate with a light yellow envelope on it.

I took the letter and slit it open, noticing the pink wax seal which showed a pair of naked tits embossed deeply.  I knew that seal well, and was not surprised to read the contents of the note.

"Mme LaFontaine invites M. Deveraux to enjoy a classical evening, Friday night at 9 PM."

I recalled the last soiree Mme LaFontaine had thrown for the cream of New Orleans gentry.  In fact my cock still tingled with pleasure.  I remembered the gambling and the sexual tantalization we enjoyed that night.  I told Octavius, "Tell the messenger that M. Deveraux accepts with pleasure. We will go to New Orleans on Friday. Direct the boat to be here."

Octavius bowed silently and withdrew from the room.  I picked up the Picayune and read on with a lighter mind.  Entertainment for gentlemen was Mme LaFontaine's specialty and I was sure she would not fail us this time.  The only question I had in my mind was what she considered to be "classical" entertainment.

On Friday the boat was waiting to take me across Lake Ponchartrain into the city. Octavius loaded my baggage on board and sat down to keep an eye on it.  Since it was a beautiful warm evening I stood at the bow of the boat with my brandy and enjoyed the breeze.  Soon enough we landed and took a waiting hack to Madame's Palais du Sport.  I tossed the hack driver a small silver piece, and handed Octavius enough money to assure that he would enjoy the evening in the shanties across the creek.  Then I walked up to Mme. LaFontaine's door.

The two black slaves standing by the door were dressed in white tunics and sandals. The Roman look of their costumes gave me a clue of the evening's theme.  They bowed low as they opened the door.  I walked in to find the atrium decorated with flowers and ribbons.  A fountain tinkled in the center of it, and in front of the fountain were three charming figures.  A small boy, black as midnight, was dressed in a white tunic, and a small girl, white as a newborn lamb, was dressed in a black tunic.  The girl sprinkled red rose petals from a basket, and the boy tossed green ferns into the air.

Standing between them was a young girl, perhaps in her mid teens.  She was white of skin with beautiful black eyes outlined in kohl.  Only her lips and the nails of her hands betrayed her, for to a southern gentleman's experienced eye they marked her as an octoroon.  Only one-eighth of her blood was black and seven-eighths white, probably from rich planters along the river.  But that one-eighth banned her from the company of white people, at least when the ladies were present.

Octoroon girls were much in demand at houses like the Palais du Sport.  I knew that it was not unusual for their mothers to realize that life there was much better for the girls than life as a slave on the plantations or even in the kitchens.  Madame sometimes accepted the girls in their teen age years as servants and apprentices, to learn the ways an octoroon girl advanced in society.

I surmised that in a few years, when this girl turned eighteen, she would be allowed to auction off her virginity at a special night in the Palais.  The cream of New Orleans white society would bid high for her maidenhead and half the money she earned that night was hers.  Thus she could start her career as a courtesan with gold in reserve and a clientele already waiting for her. But for now, she did not visit the rooms where the gentlemen conducted their business, either gambling or personal.  Her function tonight was to greet the guests in this panorama of pretty things.

She came forward softly, and said, "M. Deveraux, Mme. LaFontaine's compliments.  Tonight's entertainment will cost $400 in gold."  I took the coins out of my purse and set them on the table.  The girl nodded and said, "We have been waiting for you. Please come with me."  She led me to a small room, with the two contrasting children strewing the path before me.  In the dressing room I saw a full mirror and a white cloth hanging on a hook.  "Please, sir, put on this toga.  As I am sure a classically educated gentleman knows, the Senators of Rome were very particular in their clothing.  A full toga can only be worn to best advantage if a skilled vestiplica arranges the folds.  I have been so trained, sir, and if you ring this bell when you are dressed, I will assist you to look your best."  She dismissed the little white and black attendants, bowed slightly and left the room.

I undressed, and took the heavy white cloth down from its hook.  Of course I had read many books about the Romans in their togas, and seen lots of pictures, but this confounded me. Finally I got it wrapped around me and tossed the end over my shoulder.  I picked up the small silver hammer and tapped the bronze gong.  The door opened and the octoroon girl entered.  Without a word, she knelt beside me and busied herself with carefully folding and arranging the toga to perfect form.  She then gestured toward a mirror and I looked myself over.  The flowing white toga was edged with a broad purple stripe of Senatorial rank.  I was indeed impressed at the cultured and important look it gave me.

My attendant held out her hand and I took it. She led me into Mme LaFontaine's huge main parlour.  I saw that for this evening, all the comfortable furniture had been removed.  All that occupied the large room were seven couches.  Six were arranged in a semi-circle against the long wall, and the seventh was opposite them, resting beside something hidden behind a purple curtain.

My octoroon girl led me to one of the couches.  She picked up a silver ewer from the table next to the couch, and poured wine into an elaborate goblet.  Kneeling once again she presented the wine to me.  Then she bowed low and left the room.

One at a time, the other couches were occupied.  The octoroon attendant led in five other of the Palais' frequent patrons, and my good friends, all clad in Senatorial togas.  Then she departed.  There were Judge Beaulais, M. Delacroix of the bank, Senor Martinez who controlled the Santa Fe trade, Mr. Jackson the lawyer, and Colonel Robais from the Presidio.  We had enjoyed many evenings in this house in each others company.  I am sure we were all anticipating this classical night. 

A loud gong sounded from behind the purple curtain.  A large black slave, clad only in a loincloth, emerged and extended a hand.  Mme. LaFontaine appeared, wearing a diaphanous gown of white linen, semi transparent so that her magnificent tits showed through faintly.  Every man in the room knew her story, how she had been the belle of New Orleans society at eighteen, and how her father's plantation failed. Her father and elder brother committed suicide when the bank called in the note.  Somehow she acquired this house, which was her answer to living and earning money among the gentry, even though the ladies no longer received her.  She was still the stunning beauty she had been at eighteen.

Waving a large fan of white feathers, she walked to the couch and lay down on it. Three male slaves, very black and totally naked, rushed into the room and knelt at her feet.  They poured her wine and offered her a basin of water and a towel to clean herself.  When she was ready, and had observed the effect her entrance had on the gentlemen, she waved a hand slightly and the purple curtain dropped.

Behind it we saw a throne raised on a dais, and sitting on it was a man clad in a purple robe, decorated with pure white fur.  He held a scepter in one hand and a sword in the other.  His face was stern.  It appeared that he was going rather bald but a wreath of laurel leaves crowned his head and covered most of his bald spot.  

Soon we realized that he was not moving, not blinking, not breathing.  In fact, this statue of the Divine Julius was another of the works of M. Toulouse, Madame's  artistic protege.  Carved from marble and carefully painted, this realistic Caesar was going to oversee our entertainments tonight.

The mistress waved again, and from behind the statue emerged her six newest and most beautiful girls.   We had met them on a previous night of gaming, and in the interim I had tasted the favors of several of them.  They were all naked but for a loincloth wrapped around their hips, the front of it falling down to cover their sex.  One walked to each of the waiting gentlemen.

Annemarie, with skin like ebony, walked to the American lawyer Mr. Jackson.  We all knew that his preference was for the dark meat, the darker the better.  The second girl, Belle, a Creole of colour, came to me.  I was happy with that as she was one I had not yet tried.  The other girls dispersed to each share a couch with the Senators present.

Belle was carrying a tray of fruit, and she knelt down and offered me some.  Behind the grapes, apples and oranges were her round chocolate tits.  Their large puffy areolae and nipples seemed almost to rest on the tray with the rest of the fruit. My gaze rested on them and I licked my lips. She smiled at that and wiggled her chest slightly so the nipples nestled among the bunch of grapes.  Then she plucked a few grapes and held them out to my mouth.  I sucked one in and met her eyes with mine as I swallowed it.

She put the tray on the table, and leaned so her tits brushed my chest as she fed me more grapes.  Then she picked up the wine goblet, and putting an arm around my neck, cradled my head between her boobs as she held the wine to my lips.  I took a sip of the wine, and then turned my head to take her broad nipple into my lips.  I sucked in and out gently and squeezed the boob lightly.  She smiled again, but drew away and placed the cup back on the side table.

Then she stretched herself out on the couch, lying so that her head could fall back on my shoulder.  My arm went around her waist to cradle one of those large tits. Her ass pressed back against my cock, which was hardening under the soft fabric of the toga.  This comfortable position seemed a good way to spend my dinner hour.

I saw that Mme. LaFontaine was also comfortably stretched on her couch, with one of the bucks behind her, one kneeling at her feet and the other kneeling at her head, feeding her grapes.  Once she saw that the other gentlemen were as well settled as I was, she called out, "Let the entertainment begin."

Three girls emerged from the doors behind us, and came into the corner of the room. They turned and bowed to us.  Each was completely naked. The first held a harp, the second a flute. The third went to the piano.  Immediately they began playing lively dance music.

Three other girls swirled into the room.  They were a trio in mixed colours just as the musicians were.  The first was an octoroon, white-skinned, small with petite tits, a flat stomach and dark curly pussy hair.  The second was a half-breed, a Creole of colour as we called it, dusky of skin with large pointed tits and a shaven pussy. The third was fully black, buxom and plump, with a rounded stomach, large round boobs and a deep black patch of pussy hair. Each was wrapped in a thin cloth which barely hid their nudity under it.  

They spun around the room, waving the cloths in patterns which now revealed, now hid their boobs, their asses, and their pussies.  At one point they turned their backs to us and all raised the cloths over their heads, presenting their bare backs and rounded butts in a pretty tableau.  In another pattern two of them stood sideways and the third posed in the middle.  The two waved their cloths up and down, and behind them the octoroon girl stood with hands raised and one leg stepping forward so that all her charms were displayed, only interrupted by the motion of the cloths before her.

The black girl now lay down on the floor.  She spread her legs wide, and one of the other girls covered the open pussy with her thin cloth.  The black hair and the pinkness of the pussy were tantalizingly displayed behind the semi-transparent cloth.  Slowly the cloth was dragged upward, over the black girl's thighs until it barely trailed over her cunt.  Just as it slipped upward and the dark lips leading into the pink inside were there to see, the other girl draped her cloth over it.

Now the performance began again, the second girl pulling her cloth up until the pussy was barely revealed.  This time, however, she swirled her drape on up over her head, and the black girl lay there fully displayed to our eyes.  Now the other two girls knelt on each side of her, their calves pressing her thighs to spread her wider and at the same time show the other two pussies to us.

Belle, meantime, was nuzzling my ear and my hand had crept up to her tit to softly stroke the nipple.  At this point I had to let go for just a moment to join in the round of applause for the first act.  It seemed, however, that it was not over. Now a trio of men danced out to the floor, also covered only with thin cloths. They swirled around the girls, and each girl reached out to grab a cloth and pull it off.  Now the three men were shown to be erect and ready for action.  The quadroon male lifted the black girl into the air, her head hanging down his back and her pussy hanging down in front of him.

Then he knelt down.  The other four dancers approached and made a complicated pattern.  The black man inserted his dick into her mouth, and the Creole rammed into her pussy.  She jerked her head and her hips toward them.  Meanwhile the other two girls did handstands, and rested their legs against the quadroon's shoulders. They spread one leg wide and he put a hand on each pussy and began to work two fingers up and down.  The girls both reached out their hands to his cock and started to stroke.

We stared in amazement at this acrobatic feat.  What more could they do? The answer was that the entire assemblage began to rotate slowly around for our viewing pleasure.  From every angle we saw dicks working in and out, pussies soaked and dripping, and tits and asses bouncing.  I had no idea where Mme. LaFontaine had obtained such amazing dancers.  During this performance, Belle pressed her butt back against my cock and began rubbing it with her ass cheeks.  My attention was torn between the amazing dance and the sensations under my toga.

The music became faster and more frenzied, and the cocks and hands worked harder and harder.  Finally the piano gave a huge clashing chord, and all three of the men jerked into their climaxes.  The Negro shot into the black girl's pussy, the Creole sprayed his jizz over her face, and quadroon on the bottom came hard as both girls held his cock tight.

After resting a moment, the panting dancers carefully disassembled their connections, then rose and holding hands bowed to the captivated audience.  They exited to our loud applause.

"Mes braves," said our hostess, "this is only the first act in our classical evening.  Let us now enjoy some of the feast prepared for us."  Each girl got up off her couch and returned with a plate of shrimps and crayfish, and a bowl of remoulade sauce.  Belle sat down by me and began to dip them in the sauce and feed them to me.  I ate one, she ate one, and in this manner we finished the plate.  She held out her fingers, with a trace of sauce on them, and I carefully licked them clean.  Sitting there, she undid the knot of my toga and let the top drop so she could trace a pattern over my chest and nipples. Then she settled back down into her comfortable position so we could watch the next act.

All the acts entered from the door behind us.  This one was a small and beautiful high yellow girl clad in a leopard skin which barely covered her ass.  As she turned toward us we saw that it was clasped at one shoulder, covering one of her small boobs but leaving the other exposed.  She clapped her hands, and out from behind us ran a strange animal.  It jumped into her arms and I realized it was a chimpanzee. Certainly we had all studied natural history, but I had never seen one alive.

She looked at it and puckered her lips to give it an air kiss.  The chimp made an amazing pucker with its large lips in return, and then turned to look at us with a big grin on its face.  It chattered, raised its hands in the air and clapped them over its head.  The animal continued to perform wonderful tricks, but sometimes it was hard to concentrate on it because the nice tits and the occasional flash of ass on its mistress were distracting.

Finally the chimp came back to sit on her shoulder.  She raised one hand in the air and the chimp did too.  We all burst into applause.  As we did, the chimp cast us a mischievous look, and quickly reached over to grab the clasp that held the leopard skin.  Dextrously he popped it open and the leopard skin fell to the ground, leaving the handler standing there nude. Her small perky tits stood up, and her dark pussy lips showed below the neatly trimmed pubic hair.  She was a beautiful sight, and the chimp made faces and clapped his hands at his feat.

Jumping to the ground, the chimp pushed her backwards.  She sat down on the platform of Caesar's statue, and the chimp pushed in between her knees.  This exposed her pussy to all of us watching.  Again the chimp made funny faces and clapped.  Then he turned toward her spread legs.  He puckered up his lips and worked them in and out close to her pussy.  Then his tongue came out and wiggled around, very near her slit. Again he looked at us, made faces, and clapped.  Then he pressed his head in between her legs....

And at that moment, some furry creature ran out between our couches toward the chimp.  It seemed to be about three feet tall and made growling noises.  The chimp chattered and jumped over the handler's shoulders to land right in Julius Caesar's lap, where it stood screaming at the furry being.  That creature ran in between the girl's legs and rubbed against her pussy, and then turned to face us.  We all laughed as we saw that it was actually a Creole dwarf, apparently wearing one of Mme. LaFontaine's fur coats.  He clapped his hands over his head, just as the chimp had, and grinned widely.  Then he turned and applied his tongue busily to the girl's pussy.

She wiggled her hips and moaned as the fur clad dwarf performed the act which the chimp had wanted to do.  Apparently the dwarf had a sufficiently large tongue because she was becoming more and more excited.  We all watched with growing amazement as the dwarf then turned to us, and threw the fur coat off his shoulders.  

He stood there totally naked, and we were awed to see that he sported a hard rod as large as any man's in the room.  He grinned again, and turned back to the girl.  Hoisting himself up by holding her thighs, he let that stiff cock push into her pussy and began to thrust back and forth. The chimpanzee, sitting above, screamed again.  The girl moaned, the dwarf pushed, and soon he pulled his cock out of her and let his jizz spill all over her stomach.  It made a very respectable pool considering what a small man it came out of.

Now the dwarf let himself down and turned toward us.  The chimpanzee jumped down from the statue and stood beside him.  The girl stood up, stepped forward and took each by the hand. Standing in a row, dwarf, naked girl, and chimp, they all bowed deeply to great applause, not only from the men but from our beautiful companions too.  Then they ran out of the room.




Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport Ch. 02



The girls again got up and went to the laden tables, returning this time with oysters on the half shell and Louisiana hot sauce.  As Belle offered the tray, she tugged on her loincloth and it dropped to the floor, leaving her shaved pubic mound exposed and the dark lips of her cunt visible below it.  She spread her legs, and took an oyster and placed it between them.  I laughed at the similarity between the oyster and the folded lips of her pussy, just starting to engorge.  She came close, and I licked her cunt and then bit the oyster.  They both had pleasant salty tastes.  Half a dozen oysters went down this way, and Belle's pussy was getting moister and my cock was getting harder.  

Belle bent down to open my toga at the bottom. This left my cock exposed and throbbing.  She smiled her glorious smile and gave it a few soft rubs, and then lay down again pressing her butt against my hard shaft.  She wiggled her butt a few times, and then Mme. LaFontaine demanded our attention again.

"Mes amis, now I introduce to you Dove, truly an adornment of this establishment." As she said that a striking black girl entered the room.  She was tall and slender. Her face had high cheekbones and a narrow nose with thin lips.  Her black hair was braided in rows.  Our long experience with Africans told us that this Negress was descended from warriors of the Masai tribe, a rarity in the South.

Dove was clad in soft silk bloomers and a red silk chemise.  It hugged her body closely and a deep cleavage was visible at the top of it.  She swayed enticingly in an erotic dance.  Slowly she turned until her back was to us.  Her ass undulated  gently and she raised her arms over her head. Then she turned back to us, and we saw with wonder that a snow white dove now nestled in her bosom.  It cooed softly as it sat in its comfortable nest.   Dove smiled down at it, and gently stroked its head, then let her finger run down over the silk chemise to one of her prominent nipples which showed hard through the fabric.

The dove looked around at all of us with its little beady eyes.  Then it focused on the ribbon which was all that held the chemise together.  The dove grasped this ribbon in its beak and gave it a pull, then another, and finally managed to untie the bow.  The chemise fell apart showing most of Dove's boobs.  She threw her hands in the air, causing it to fully open and those tits to pop out on display for just a moment.  Then she turned around so her back was to us, and her hands pushed the soft silk off her shoulders so it fell to the ground.  Her slim bare back was very attractive as she swayed gently.  

As the chemise fell, she again raised her hands in the air, and from one of her open hands another dove flew out.  Its mate left the soft bosom it occupied and joined it in flight, then they each settled on one of Dove's shoulders.  She extended her hands out to her sides and the doves walked out to stand on her palms, fluttering their wings.  Then she began to slowly turn towards us.  As she did, we saw just the soft curve of her boob appear, then the dark nipple became visible, and finally she was posing in front of us.  She stayed this way for only a second, and then the doves ran up her arms and hopped down right on to her boobs.

They did a little twisting maneuver somehow, and wound up covering her tits, spreading their wings.  I thought that they must be holding on to her nipples with their little claws and wondered how they were trained.  It was a very teasing spectacle, this girl bare from the waist up and the doves' wings fluttering just to cover her boobs.

She brought her arms down in front of her, and  raised them high in the air as another dove flew out of her hands.  I realized that I had seen many naked Negro wenches, but seldom had I seen a magician perform this well.  I was actually more interested in the doves than in her tits.

The third dove landed on Dove's head, and the other two flew up to her shoulders.  Now there was nothing covering those beautiful black tits.  I could see that the nipples were large and hard, and had probably offered ample roosts for the doves.  She raised her hand to her head and that dove hopped off into her hand.  There it began to turn somersaults, and then hung upside down flapping its wings.  She brought it to her lips and it gave her a peck, then shook its head and flapped its wings as though in ecstasy.

Now she lowered that hand to waist level.  Her bloomers, like the vest, were tied with a single ribbon.  The dove took it in its beak, and as we all wished it luck it began to tug.  After a few pulls, the bow came loose and the bloomers fell right down to the ground.  Dove's dark pussy hair was briefly displayed, but to my amazement the white dove fluttered over and lit on her pubic mound, evidentally clutching the hair in its claws.  It spread its wings and tail feathers and concealed her cunt completely.  She spun around, raising her hands while the other two doves flew in circles around her.

Then she waved her hands toward the statue of Caesar.  Since the birds have a natural affinity for statues, they were happy to light on the ends of the scepter and sword it held.  Dove danced up to the statue and climbed into its lap.   She lifted her legs onto the statue's arms, and the dove perched on her pubis fluttered up to Caesar's head, thus leaving her pussy spread and open for us to see.  Under the curly hair, the dark outer lips were swollen and the pink inner lips peeked out.

Now she waved a hand and produced a black glass tube, rounded at the end.  She sucked it into her mouth and pulled it in and out until it was thoroughly wet. Then she lowered it down and began to rub it over her pussy.  The lips swelled more and we could see the pussy juice begin to flow.  Soon she inserted the tube into her cunt, and moved it back and forth gently.  Her hips swayed with the motion. She threw her head back and moaned slightly as she stimulated herself.

Now the bird on the statue's head flew down to light on her pubic mound, cocking its head to watch the glass tube moving in and out.  As she pulled the tube out of her pussy, we saw Dove remove a stopper from the end of it, and then shove that end back in her cunt.  The bird flapped its wings and hopped around on her pussy hair.  Dove pulled the tube out of her cunt.  I wondered what it might have contained that she poured in there?

Obviously, the white dove knew.  It bent its head down, and its hard beak probed into that wet slit.  Of course, I should have known.  The bird happily retreived a grain of corn and swallowed it.  At that, the other two birds joined it, one perched on each thigh.  All three of them worked hard to get their beaks into the pussy and obtain their share of corn. Their wiggling movements and flapping wings were evidentaly stimulating to the black girl as she thrust her hips up to meet them as one after another probed deep and got its kernel.

Finall the corn apparently ran out as the three birds flew up in the air to their posts on the statue.  Dove ran her hand down over her pussy, and we watched as she inserted one, then two, and finally three fingers to drive herself to the edge of pleasure.  She gave a deep moan and jerked her hips and we knew she had reached her orgasm.

She stood up and gave a curtsey, and with the birds flying behind her she left the room to a loud round of applause from all of us.

"Now," said Mme. LaFontaine, "a lesson in good husbandry for the gentlemen farmers among you.  I know you have learned to always breed the best to the best."  At her words, the door behind us opened and a white pony mare trotted into the ring, ridden by a light-skinned Cajun girl with dark flowing hair.  Behind them trotted a white Poodle bitch.  Reaching the center of the ring, the girl swung down off the pony and they stood in a row, pony, girl, and dog.  Those of us with farming experience could easily tell that both the mare and the bitch were in season.

We heard hooves behind us again.  The three male acrobats from earlier now came into the ring.  One led a black pony, obviously a stallion.  The second had a   Black Labrador stud on a leash.  The third led a huge black man by a ring around his neck.  Clearly all three of them were excited and ready to perform.  The pony's large extended black cock was of amazing size. The dog's red shaft protruded from its sheath and twitched.  And the man's hard rod stood up in front of him throbbing.

The stallion approached the mare, the dog approached the bitch, and the Cajun girl dropped to her knees as the Negro approached her from the rear.  Each of them sniffed and licked the female opening presented to them.  Then the stallion mounted his mare, the stud dog mounted the bitch, and the man rammed his cock into the girl.  Each male creature began to thrust hard, panting as they worked.  The stallion reached down to bite the mare on the neck, and the man grabbed the girl's tits and squeezed them hard.  The dog just let its tongue hang out and concentrated on its work, its tail wagging hard.

Faster and faster the three went.  Soon the stallion neighed and finished its business.  Then the dog completed its work and turned around, still tied to the bitch.  Last of all, the big Negro male shoved deep into the Cajun pussy and took his enjoyment of her with a series of grunts.  As all three males stood panting, their handlers came out, grasped their leads, and led them and their females out of the room.

"Gentlemen of New Orleans,   I hope you are enjoying the entertainment.  This next act cannot fail to interest men who, I know, are as interested in horseflesh as girlflesh!"  We laughed again, for every one of us was a well known gambler at any sort of horse race.  The door behind us opened and again we heard hoofbeats.  

A tall blonde girl, completely naked except for a high silk hat on her head, ran into the center of the room holding a whip.  Behind her came three beautiful palomino ponies.  They obediently trotted in a circle around the center of the room.  The ringmistress raised a whistle to her lips and blew three times, and three dalmatian dogs trotted out and began following the ponies.  She whistled again and each dog jumped to the back of a pony.  One more whistle and the dogs all sat up on the pony's back and round the ring they went to our applause.  

The girls sitting on our couches seemed to particularly like this act.  I was rubbing Belle's tits and her naked ass was teasing my cock as we watched.

From behind us, the three girl acrobats ran into the ring, all totally naked.  They ran alongside the ponies holding their manes. Another whistle and each girl jumped onto a pony's back.  Holding the mane with one hand they threw the other in the air.  Of course the gait of the ponies made them bounce in the saddle, and their boobs were going up and down with every bounce. The large boobs of the black girl, particularly, looked like melons bobbing in a tank of cooling water.

Then the girls leaned forward in the saddle and rose up, raising her leg high in a split.  Of course this displayed her pussy admirably and we watched their amazing balance as the ponies trotted.

Another whistle and the three men raced into the room.  They did as the girls had done, moving with the ponies.  Whistle, and each man jumped up behind a girl.  The quadroon was behind the buxom black beauty, hanging on hard to her tits.  The black man sat behind the octoroon girl with his arms wrapped around her waist, and the coloured Creole duo occupied the third pony.

Around and around the ponies trotted.  Up and down in the saddle the riders bounced.  Then we watched with amazement as the acrobats took up their positions. The Creole girl was first, rising up and then throwing her leg across to face her partner.  We saw that he was again erect and ready, despite having performed less than an hour ago. The girl lowered herself back down onto his stiff rod and wrapped her arms around his waist.  The movement of the pony was driving his shaft up and down into her pussy, so that they hardly needed to move to get their excitement.

The octoroon girl raised up her ass and leaned forward onto the neck of the pony, and then settled back down with her pussy impaled by the hard black cock of her partner.  She leaned back into him and he grabbed her tits to pull her close.  As the pony bounced she rode up and down and he thrust up into her.

Finally was the most amazing act.  The black girl got her knees up onto the pony's back, and threw her arms around its neck so that she presented her pussy to her partner doggy style.  He got on his knees also and holding on to her ass, rammed his cock into her pussy and began to thrust in and out.  The incredible sense of balance these two required for this ponyback doggy fuck impressed all of us.  We would not have believed it possible if we had not seen it.

In quick order we saw each of the couples reach a climax together.  The ringmistress whistled and the ponies trotted off, their riders all holding tightly to each other.  The naked girl stood there whirling her whip around her head and smiling.

At this time our girls got up and returned with another plate. This one had several boudin sausages and creole mustard.  Belle offered me one, and took one herself.  Before biting into it, she put out her tongue and licked up and down, then ran her tongue around the tip.  Her eyes sought mine and she smiled, then pushed the sausage deep down into her throat.  She pulled it out and again smiled at me, and then licked her red lips.  The suggestion was unmistakable.

I smiled at her, and we each finished our sausage. Then she gently came to me and fully removed my toga so I was as naked as she was.  I could see on the other couches that the other gentlemen were receiving the same treatment.  I had never been naked in public at the Palais du Sport, and I was slightly embarrassed, but the throbbing of my cock soon overcame that.  Belle knelt down and began treating my cock just as she had the sausage, licking up and down and all around the tip, and then taking it deep down her throat.  I saw my colleagues on the other couches enjoying themselves similarly.  But after only a few minutes, Mme. LaFontaine clapped again and ordered the next entertainment.

The ringmistress slashed the whip around her head.  A beautiful naked octoroon girl came out, and went over to the side wall.  We saw that there were slave manacles on hooks on the wall.  The blonde ringmistress adjusted the shackles on the black haired girls wrists, and then spread her legs out wide so her pussy was completely exposed beneath its soft black nest of pubic hair.  Manacles on her ankles kept her in this stretched position.

Then the blonde with the whip produced two short votive candles.  She lit each of them and drawing near, let a bit of hot wax drip on the large boobs of the shackled girl. The girl flinched but made no sound.  Into the wax the mistress stuck the candle so the flame flickered upward from the naked tit.  Similarly, she placed the other candle in place on the other boob.  Then she stepped back two paces and admired her work.

Suddenly the whip cracked and whistled through the air toward the spread eagled girl.  She turned her head and screamed as the whip flicked close to her naked boobs. Again the whip slashed out, coming even closer to the hard nipples so exposed.  Once again the whip slashed, and the girl screamed again.  But we all saw with amazement that the whip had skillfully extinguished a candle without touching that delightful candleholder.  The blonde stepped to the other side, slashed the whip through the air again, and the other candle was put out.  Applause showed our respect for her ability with the whip.  Each plantation owner had a slave overseer skilled with the whip but we had never seen anything like this.

Now two large black servants unshackled the girl, and swiftly turned her over so she hung head down. They returned her spread eagled to the manacles, but now suspended with her pussy upright.  The blonde mistress took a long red candle, and held it over the exposed pussy.  Then she slowly pushed it in for almost all of its length, deep into the cunt.  The octoroon wiggled her hips to help it go in.  The ringmistress lit the wick that was now all that could be seen. Then she stepped back and whirled the whip around her head.  The bound girl winced and screamed and twisted against her shackles.  The whip cracked between her legs but did not touch her thighs.  Again she twisted and again the whip cracked, barely missing her pussy.  The bound girl contorted her body again.  While her pussy was moving back and forth from this action the whip whistled, and neatly cut off the wick and extinguished the flame.

The servants now released the shackled girl, and with the candle still deep in her pussy she came forward to take the hand of the blonde ringmistress and both of them bowed deeply to great applause.  All of us were truly stunned at this show.

Now the girls on the couches fetched small gamehens to us, and we enjoyed licking each others fingers as we ate them.  All of this sexual entertainment had my cock standing up to its full height, and Belle gave it an occasional rub as I now and then fingered her wet pussy.  I was about ready to retire to her bedroom, but Mme. LaFontaine had another act to offer.

Another girl appeared.  This one was a small, blackhaired beauty that I knew must be one of the immigrants from Acadia, that were becoming known in Louisiana as Cajuns.  They lived in the swamps and were adept at crawfish boils and gumbo, as well as being known as wild and unrestrained sex partners.  We waited to see what she would do.

She had a strip of soft leather across her tits, barely hiding them, and another strip wound around her loins which ran down across her pussy and up through the crack of her ass behind. The musicians played a fast tune with a hard beat.  She began doing a wild and sensual dance with much thrusting of her hips about.  

Then behind us we heard growling noises.  A huge creature rushed toward the girl, and she screamed and backed away from it.  It was larger than a man and covered with black hair, and we realized it could only be a big gorilla.  The creature grabbed the Cajun girl and pulled her close to itself, turning to face the audience.  Its large paws groped her tits and then pulled the leather covering off of them. During all this time it was growling fiercely and the girl was screaming.

In the excitement of seeing this monstrous ape and also of seeing the scanty clothing ripped off the girl, something did not seem quite right.  I realized what it was.  Though the beast growled horribly, its mouth did not open nor its lips move.  In fact, I discovered, it was actually a horrible mask that I saw.  But the creature was almost seven feet tall.  How could it be just a costume?

Now those huge hands groped between the girl's legs and tore the thong from her pussy.  A massive finger penetrated into her and I could see her juices flowing. The beast spun her away from him.  Between its legs I saw a truly massive rod extending hard and strong.  Then it came to me.  Inside that costume with his cock protruding from it had to be Coriolanus, Mme. LaFontaine's huge Negro bouncer.  We had seen demonstrations before of his fourteen inch member in action.  No one but he could fill that costume and let that huge rod project out of it.

The beast lifted up the little Cajun girl. She screamed and beat on his chest, but of course she could not escape from that strong creature.  It raised her high in the air, and then pulled her down so its massive cock pushed into her pussy.  Her scream sounded like both fear and pain as she twisted to try to escape.  Of course her twisting against the beast's cock only excited it more.  Like an inflamed animal it thrust deep into her cunt again and again. We could see the whole length of that fourteen inches driving into her.  Her struggles were to no avail as the creature took its animal pleasure. Finally the furry body shuddered and he thrust up for one more deep penetration.




Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport Ch. 02



Then the beast stood still, and slowly stroked the hair of the Cajun beauty.  She sobbed but pressed into its chest and ran a hand down the furry arm.  Gently he lifted her off his cock and set her on the ground.  So well had the black man played the part of the black beast that it was still hard to realize we had not seen a true wild animal.  They both bowed to the audience.

Every man in the room had done as I had done, I am sure. As the beast growled and thrust into the helpless girl, I had clutched Belle's tits hard and ground my dick against the crack of her ass.  My excitement was reaching its highest state, and I could wait no longer.  Belle knew this, so she picked up my toga and wrapped it around both of us.  On the other couches the other gentlemen were similarly draped. We began to exit the room with our girls, and Mme. LaFontaine called out, "Enjoy your dessert, messieurs."

Down the hall to Belle's bedroom we went, and to my surprise there really were pastries waiting for us on a silver tray.  Belle pushed me back onto the bed with my stiff rod standing straight up, and then carefully lowered herself onto it. Holding her hips very still she reached over and took two pastries from the tray. She extended one toward me, and I took the other one and held it out to her lips. She leaned forward to bite it, creating the most exquisite sensation in my cock. Gently she nibbled the pastry, as I swallowed mine and then pulled her sweet tit toward my mouth.  The taste of the pastry and the taste of her luscious nipple together were a dessert worth waiting for.

Now she began to work up and down on my cock, and I grabbed her ass and pulled it hard toward me so I could drive my shaft deep into her wet pussy.  She fell forward so her tits enveloped my face and I licked each one in turn as I thrust hard into her. The exciting acts of the sexual circus had driven us both to a high point and after only a few strokes I had to stop her and savor the warm feel of my cock deep inside her.  I twitched my cock several times and she moaned slightly.  As I gained control I gave several more strokes and then stopped again.  This raising to the edge and subsiding continued through several more rounds until I was filled with intense desire to come.  Finally I said, "Now, now!" and began thrusting hard.  She joined me and twisted her hips around with every thrust until fire ran through my cock.  I pushed her ass hard toward me and drove hard inside her until I felt my semen spilling into her depths.  Her pussy contracted hard around my cock and I knew she had reached an orgasm too.

Exhausted she fell forward onto my chest, and we lay there for several minutes. Then as my cock softened she rose up off me and went to the commode to get a wet cloth to clean me.  I saw that my clothes were piled neatly nearby, and Belle helped me to get dressed carefully.  I took out $400 in gold and stacked it on the bedside table.  She smiled her gratitude, for I was more generous than the menu of the establishment required.  She pulled on a soft white robe, and took my hand as we returned to the parlour and resumed our couch.  Shortly the other gentlemen and their girls also returned.

Soon the two little salt and pepper children entered strewing rose petals and ferns, and Mme. LaFontaine followed them, clad in a long purple gown and a white feather boa.  "Messieurs de Nouvelle Orleans," she spoke, "this concludes our classical evening.  I trust you have enjoyed it.  Already we are planning another extravaganza for our guests." With a deep curtsey she left us.

Outside the Palais, Octavius was waiting for me with the hack driver.  He touched his hat respectfully, and asked, "Did you enjoy the evening, master?"  

"Indeed I did, Octavius," I replied.  Uncharacteristically, I then asked, "And did you enjoy yours?"

"Indeed, master," my valet replied curtly.

For some reason, I continued speaking to him.  "Some evening, Octavius, you must tell me what goes on in the shanties across the creek while the gentlemen sport at the Palais," I said.

Octavius looked at me quizzically.  Then he said, "Shorely will, Massuh.  But y'all mought har'ly b'lieve what us niggas do over dar."  He gave me a big grin with that, and I wondered if lapsing into his slave quarters dialect was to tease me or to warn me off this subject.  Time, I thought, would tell.

The hack driver slapped his reins and clucked to the horses and drove off.



Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport Ch. 03



Chapter 03

The gentlemen of New Orleans disport themselves at a pique-nique

The August sun blazed down on the porch. I sat in the shade, surveying Parcbeau, the plantation of my ancestors and now my care. Last winter's ice, carefully hoarded in the icehouse, tinkled in my glass and brought some welcome relief to the heat. I mopped my brow with a silk handkerchief, and carefully brushed a speck of dirt off my white linen trousers.

I beheld with interest a lone horseman, trotting briskly up the avenue of trees which led to the house. The groom ran out to hold his horse as he dismounted and came up the steps on to the porch. Octavius, my valet, came forward to meet him. The messenger nodded to Octavius, and deposited his message on the silver tray proferred.

It had been the work of many years to bring Octavius from the slave quarters into the position of the most admired man servant in Louisiana. He approached me in his formal clothes, and bowed slightly as I reached for the large parchment envelope on the salver. I smiled as I recognized the wax seal. Pink wax impressed with two naked breasts could only mean that Mme. LaFontaine had sent another invitation.

The entertainments that she provided for the gentry of New Orleans were famous throughout Louisiana. I had spent many pleasant evenings at her establishment. This time I read, "Mme. LaFontaine requests the presence of M. Deveraux for a pique-nique on the greensward behind the Palais du Sport, Saturday at 1 in the afternoon." I looked up and saw Octavius grinning as if he had already anticipated the content of the letter. I told him, "Tell the messenger that I accept with pleasure."

Octavius conveyed my acceptance to the messenger, even though he had of course already heard me say it. My manservant dropped a small piece of silver in the slave's hand, and waved him on his way. He jumped on the horse and galloped down the avenue. I was sure this great show of haste was only for my benefit, and that as soon as the darkie was out of sight he would dawdle his way back to New Orleans.

On the appointed day, we left after breakfast to board the launch which conveyed us across Lake Pontchartrain to the city. The breeze on the lake was refreshing and I sipped a mint julep as we made our way across. A hired hack was waiting on the other side, and it took us right out to Mme. LaFontaine's famous house. 

All New Orleans knew that she was a notorious beauty, the belle of the ball at eighteen. We also knew how the bank had called in her father's note, and the loss of the plantation led her father and elder brother to commit suicide. Somehow the girl managed to obtain a loan to buy this house near the river, and in the succeeding fifteen years had established her fortune and her place among New Orleans' gentlemen, if not in polite society.

I sent Octavius off with the hack to see the luggage to the hotel, after giving him enough money that he could visit the shanties on the other side of the creek later. Standing on the porch of the Palais du Sport were three of the teenage octoroon girls who served as attendants and greeters. They were all dressed for the weather in light linen outfits, and had broad hats trimmed with feathers on their head. These girls were much admired by the white men in town, and Mme LaFontaine sometimes accepted a few of them in their mid-teens to learn the social graces. When they reached their eighteenth birthday, they would enter the business, and their virginity would fetch a high price at an auction. In the meantime they served around the house but never entered the rooms where the gentlemen conducted business, either sporting or personal.

They twirled their silk parasols and directed me to the broad lawn behind the house. One approached me and said, "Welcome, M. Deveraux. The fee for today's entertainment is $400." I handed her the gold pieces and she hooked her arm in mine and led me to the site of the pique-nique. A broad stretch of green led down toward the river. One side of it was bordered with weeping willow trees, forming a dense wood. The other side was well shaded with great oak trees, and their coolness presented a delightful respite from the summer heat. The little octoroon girl led me over to a chair near the broad table covered with a white tablecloth. She brought me a glass of cold rum punch. Then she returned to her duties as greeter.

Soon my friends were escorted into the grounds. As always at the most exclusive entertainment in the Palais, I saw Judge Beaulais, M. Delacroix of the bank, Senor Martinez who controlled the Santa Fe trade, Mr. Jackson the lawyer, and Colonel Robais from the Presidio. Little happened in New Orleans that one or another of us did not command. The lovely girls with the parasols circulated among us making light conversation.

Then two beautiful children emerged from the house, a white girl dressed in black, and a black boy dressed in white. They danced along, scattering sweet smelling flower petals on the lawn. That was the signal for Mme. LaFontaine to emerge.

She was a stunning beauty with long flowing blonde hair. She dressed in the latest French fashions, and her gown today had large hoops and many petticoats below, and nothing much above. Her bare shoulders dropped down to a large expanse of white chest and an amazing display of bosom. A broad brimmed hat and a red parasol protected all that skin from the effects of the sun. She made a deep curtsey, trusting to some cunning French engineering to keep the top of her dress from falling off.

"Welcome, mes braves, to our little pique-nique," she said. "I know you are all looking forward to an afternoon of delightful games and more delightful ladies. So without further ado, let us begin!" She waved her hands, and the two children and the three teenagers ran into the house. 

"I know you have enjoyed my talented musicians before," she continued. Three girls presented themselves, carrying instruments. They were all dressed in charming silk pantaloons, thin linen shifts and broad brimmed hats, and nothing else. They took their seats under the trees.

The harpist, a tall thin octoroon girl, struck a loud chord on her instrument. Then she stood up smiling, and in a single movement dropped her shift to reveal her small and perfect tits, with rosy nipples standing up.

Then the flautist followed her example. She was a buxom black beauty and her round boobs ended in large dark nipples. Finally the Cajun girl with the tambourine shook it wildly and dropped her shift also, displaying pointed tits with puffy nipples. In their stunning semi-nudity they looked much more suited for the hot summer weather. They sat down and resumed their music.

Then from the willow trees came a tantalizing procession. The six girls who were the pride of Mme. LaFontaine's Palais emerged, wearing broad hats and carrying large parasols held in front of their bodies, which appeared to be covered by nothing else. Long naked legs projected below the parasols, and fine bare shoulders were visible above them. The girls twirled the parasols as they moved sedately toward us.

The lined up an a row facing us and then curtsied. The musicians sounded a loud chord, and all six girls spun around so their bare backs and buttocks were toward us. I thought to myself what a promising start to a pleasant afternoon this was. I cast my gaze over the collection of naked boobs in the band, and then over the wonderfully assorted bottoms in the line, from AnneMarie's large black ass at one end to Grainne's little white one at the other. I felt my cock stir under my white linen trousers.

Now the six girls approached the six of us. It was inevitable that the Negress AnneMarie moved to Mr. Jackson the American lawyer. He often remarked, "Women and coffee should be hot, black and sweet." The other girls sorted themselves out and I was very happy to find that Grainne, the little Irish lassie, came up to me. She daintily swung the parasol up over her head, revealing her soft white body and the nest of red hair above her pussy. Then she knelt beside me on the grass and nuzzled her little tits up against my thigh. This pique-nique was getting better and better.

"Now, gentlemen, for the first sporting event of the afternoon," said our hostess. "It is a very simple bet." From the house, six black bucks emerged, each wearing loose cotton trousers and nothing else. They were strong muscular men, probably former field slaves used to hard labor. Then six black wenches came out, wearing nothing at all. The men lined up, and the girls placed themselves in front of the men.

"The question is simple, gentlemen. Which of these studs has the most to offer a girl? In just a moment we will measure them. But first you will place your bets." I studied the six men, but their loose trousers gave me nothing to go on. 

Col. Robais called out, "I will wager $100. But how are we to make a choice? Do we get to inspect them?"

"Ah, indeed you do, gentlemen. But for such a friendly wager, a little difficulty must be added to the choice. Observe."

At that, each of the girls turned around to face her man. They reached out and untied the string of the buck's trousers, and let them drop to the ground. But still we could not make a choice as the girls obscured our view of the men's organs. Each girl knelt in front of her partner, and we could tell that they were using their hands to stiffen the rods. But all we saw yet were the backs of the girls and their hands moving up and down.

Now the men knelt, and finally lay back on the ground. But the women moved carefully to hide the hard cocks they played with. Slowly, each girl covered the motion as she took that cock into her pussy. Only when the shaft was deep inside her did she begin to move up and down.

"Now, mes amis, you have seen what you shall see! You must place your bet. Which girl has the most length inside her? Put your money down."

We all laughed. While $100 was nothing to any of us, the pleasure of the gamble drove us on. I studied the wenches movements, trying to see which one strained the hardest to drive down on her particular shaft. It seemed to me that one of them was taking longer to move down each stroke. I decided to bet on her. "My $100 is on number 3!" I called out.

"Nonsense, you fool. It has to be Numero uno!" cried Sr. Martinez.

"No, no, look at the ass on number 5!" said Col. Robais. "A hundred on her!"

Each of the other gentlemen chose a favorite. We threw our gold pieces on the table where they made a handsome pile.

Then Madame said, "We shall count now. The girls measured inside the house, and know how much room they have to rise. Ladies, rise up three inches." The girls complied. Below the fine moons of their butts, the shafts of the men became visible. To our critical eye it was obvious that they all showed exactly the same length of cock to us. Of course, all the cocks were longer than three inches.

"Six inches," called the arbiter. Again the girls raised up. We all peered closely at the pussies showing beneath those dark asses. I thought that I could just see the head of dick number four showing.

"Nine inches," Madame ordered. The girls rose slowly. I was right, cock number four popped out and throbbed in the air below that pussy. Judge Beaulais groaned. But number five also emerged from its warm cage. Col. Robais shrugged and muttered, "Eh bien."

Four hard dicks were still in the game. "Ten inches," called the hostess. 

Slowly the girls wiggled up another inch, and number one was revealed. "Dios!" exclaimed Sr. Martinez. I looked closely, and felt sure that my number three still had a good length of hard cock being squeezed in her pussy. I thought my luck was in today.

"Twelve inches!" was the call. The three girls moved up, and I chuckled happily as two more cocks fell free, leaving only my lovely number three girl clenching her partner's shaft. My friends laughed with me, and pushed the pile of gold over toward me. I took one of the $20 coins and threw it to my winning girl. She caught it, and then began rapidly to finish her pleasure on the thirteen inch dick she held in her wet pussy. The buck she straddled pushed deeper and deeper into her and she moaned as she stroked. Soon he heaved his hips up to her,and she twisted her pussy hard down on him as they both reached their orgasms. We all cheered as they did.

All six girls now rose up, and brought us some shrimps from the buffet before they departed. Grainne peeled the shrimp and popped them in my mouth, and then I sat sipping my rum, wondering what bet was next. My comrades wanted to get even with me and recoup their losses.

"Remember our carefree childhood days, my friends? No pique-nique was complete without a wheelbarrow race!" Madame La Fontaine called. At that, six more couples came out of the house. These were clearly the wild people from the bayous known as Acadians, or more often now Cajuns. They were famous for crawfish boils, wild dances, and wilder sex. Again the men wore loose trousers and the girls thin shifts. They lined up in a row, and took the classic children's wheelbarrow stance. That is, the girls put their hands on the ground, and the men picked up their ankles and spread their legs out.

"Place your bets, my friends," said the hostess. We each chose a couple and threw our money on the table. But this seemed too straightforward for one of Madame's games. I waited to find out what the twist would be. "Ah," she said, "you have made your picks. But wait..."

I knew something was coming. The men let the girls down, and kneeling they loosened the strings of the men's trousers. Each of them sported a glorious rod, standing up from a mass of black hair. In turn the men pulled off the girl's shifts. Now they resumed the positions for the wheelbarrow race. The girls boobs hung down beneath them, and obviously the men had a great view of their pussies as they spread the "handles" of the barrows. We could see the men hardening just from the tantalizing view.

"Ready, set..." called the hostess. "But wait...you are not really ready, are you?"

All of the men took the hint. They pulled the girls in toward them, and planted their erect rods deeply in the pussies before them. With a big grin, each nodded his head. Again the call was, "Ready, set, GO!" Each wheelbarow team started off. Of course as the girl's walked their hands along the ground, their hips and pussies bounced and twisted on the men's cocks. The men pressed hard to keep up, and to push their dicks deeper in the pussies. 

All the gentlemen, and our companions, were cheering and yelling encouragement. The wheelbarrows moved along the course, the girls panting and the men pushing. Several of us groaned as our choices seemed to lose their focus on racing, and simply stopped to grind against each other in pleasure. Soon four of the couples were standing still, jerking toward their orgasms and ignoring the race. Only two continued running, Mr. Jackson's and M. Delacroix's choices. They made the turn and came back toward us. The girls boobs bounced up and down and their butts flashed in the sun. The men clutched them hard and had strained looks on their faces. We knew their cocks were calling for relief.

Then M. Delacroix, the banker, called out, "$100 in gold to my team if they win!" This inspired the man to try to ignore the calls of his throbbing cock and move his feet instead of his hips. With a final effort they crossed the finish line. M. Delacroix cheered them, as they stopped barely across the line to twist and thrust deeply and share a screaming climax. Then sweating and panting, and still in their position, they came to the banker and claimed their gold coins.

Through all this, my lovely naked companion Grainne has shared my excitement and fun. When my teams won, she waved her arms and made her little tits bounce around adoringly. Now she, and the other girls, went to the buffet table and returned with plates of fried chicken, potato salad and hush puppies. We shared the food, and I tried to find out from her what event was next. But she only laughed and remarked on the weather.

Now the girls settled themselves in our laps. Grainne wiggled her bare butt against my crotch and I know she could feel my shaft throb through my linen summer trousers. I grabbed one of those little tits and rubbed the pink nipple as the next game was introduced.

Six black girls, totally nude, came out of the house. Each had a dog on a leash, but frankly the tits, asses and pussies on display caught my attention more than the dogs. The variety of large boobs, small boobs, pointy boobs, big nipples, small nipples, round asses, slim asses, shaved pussies, hairy pussies, tight lips, swollen lips and all the infinite variety of feminine beauty was on display and I know the other gentlemen adored it as much as I did.

The six paraded off into the willows, leading their dogs. Then Madame announced, "For another $100, gentlemen, a simple bet. You will now each write a description of the dogs you saw, and especially whether each was a stud or a bitch. The one who gets the most right will win the pot!"

I laughed ironically. I was pretty sure one old hound had been in the parade, and one of those French dogs called a poodle. I had certainly looked below some tail to see some pussies, but never on any of the dogs. I had no clue how many bitches had waggled at me. If Madame had asked me to describe those six girl's pussies I could have done an admirable job. But on the dogs, I was lost!

I scribbled on my paper. "One blue tick hound. One poodle. One foxhound (a guess, that). One bulldog (another guess). Four studs, two bitches." Oh well a guess is as good as a win sometimes. I handed the paper to Grainne and she carried it over to Madame. At least, even if the paper was worthless, I got a nice view of Grainne's twitching ass as she walked. All the other contestants handed in their papers too.

Now the six pairs emerged from the woods. First was a tall thin black girl, with small tits exhibiting long nipples, a flat stomach, and a patch of curly black hair over dark pussy lips. And oh, yes, she was leading a blue tick hound stud. The next girl was plump and buxom. Large round boobs bore large puffy nipples. Her belly was slightly rounded and surmounted a patch of long black hair which almost hid the flowering lips of her cunt. A mastiff bitch walked beside her. How could I have missed that? Well, of course, that pussy had distracted me.

The next girl had pointed boobs with nipples that pointed up, a narrow waist and a shaven pubic mound which showed off her pink inner lips protruding from her dark cunt. She walked some distance before I realized she was leading a small white lap dog. It was hard to tell through all that fur but I think it was a bitch. I really only took a fleetng glance. Following that pair was a very small girl with petite tits and a tight pussy. She was indeed leading a male bulldog, so I had that one right!

The last two girls came out. Another plump girl with melon sized tits bouncing in front of her, and a dark hairy pussy, led that foxhound. Another one for me. However it was a bitch so my count was not so good. The final girl had one of those perfect hourglass figures, round firm boobs with hard nipples, and pussy hair trimmed into a narrow strip so it seemed to point to her dark cunt. Her dog was a spaniel bitch, as black as she was. I laughed at the count and realized that my $100 would surely go to a more observant dog fancier.

"Two dogs, four bitches," announced the judge, Mme LaFontaine. "And the one who came closest is...Col. Robais!" Of course, I thought, the Colonel is a great hunter and surely knows his dogs as well as his pussies. Gleefully he claimed the heap of gold. 

"Now for a special treat. I know you have all been enjoying the hush puppies. Let's all welcome Zephanaia, my famous cook." The fat black cook came out, carrying a large basket of the hush puppies. Two hound dogs followed her, their eyes on the basket. Behind them were two high yellow girls, naked. Each of them had a clean shaven pussy.




Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport Ch. 03



"Zephanaia's hush puppies are light and delicious, we all know. The dogs know it too. They will happily gobble down the bits of dough thrown to them with the admonition to 'Hush, puppy!' Each girl will toss hush puppies to one dog. Your bet, sportsmen, is how many the winning dog will devour in two minutes. Write your answer and put it on the paper with $100 in gold. But wait, first you must see how the dogs catch their treats."

With this, the two naked girls sat on the edge of the table. Each leaned back and pulled her knees up to her chest, thus spreading her pussy wide open. With clenches of their hips they demonstrated how they could flex those pussies. Then each took a hush puppy from the basket. The dogs watched closely as they gently put the round ball over their pussy, and then with a clench of their ass muscles and a thrust of their hips, threw it into the air! Each dog gave a quick snap and the hush puppy disappeared!

We all laughed at this performance. Then we placed our bets. I thought that 5 seconds was a reasonable time for one toss, so I guessed 24 hush puppies for a two minute show. Then we sat back to watch. The girls grabbed their first toss and it went into the air. As I watched I felt Grainne's hand in my crotch. I could hardly count the rapid flights of dough balls because she was gripping my dick and giving it one stroke for every hush puppy tossed.

Now the dogs began to understand where their treats came from, and realized that the closer they got the less time they had to wait. Each dog approached the pussy that was feeding him and snapped closer and closer to it. This increased the speed of devouring, just as Grainne increased the speed with which she was working my cock. Between my money, the flashing pussies, the slopping tongues, and the hand on my dick my attention was whirling around.

As the two minutes drew to a close the dogs were so close they were almost licking the pussies presented to them. The girls were firing treats into their mouths at a high speed. And Grainne's hand was working up and down rapidly, stroking the sensitive head of my cock toward high excitement. Madame called time, and it all stopped. I sat there in confusion, wondering which way to look.

The papers were tallied, and Judge Beaulais had the winning number. But I am not sure any of us cared as he raked in his winnings. All the girls had been delivering the same treatment inside the gentlemen's trousers, I felt sure.

"Gentlemen, no pique-nique is complete without a gentle interlude in the shade of the old willow trees. I feel sure that as teen age boys on the plantations you had a special affection for the willow groves," our hostess offered. I chuckled, because I did indeed have fond memories of some neighboring plantation girls visiting the willows at Parcbeau with me years ago. I needed no further invitation to lift little Grainne in my arms and walk over to the willows. I could see the other patrons and their girls heading the same way.

Pushing aside the drooping fronds, we found a soft green lawn completely hidden from others views by the willow branches. Within that green bower, Grainne dropped to her knees and undid my trousers, letting them drop to the ground so that my hard shaft came into her hand. Gently she pulled it to her lips and lightly kissed the tip of it. Then softly she licked all around it, and ran her tongue up and down the shaft. Returning to the top, she sucked it into her mouth and slowly took it deeper and deeper. When the whole length of my cock was in her mouth she twisted from side to side creating a sharp sensation down the whole shaft.

Then she began to stroke up and down. As she moved more and more rapidly I felt my excitement building to its peak. I thrust deep into her throat and pulled her head toward my hips. Moaning I prepared to come into her mouth.

And then she pulled back and dropped my cock. It throbbed in front of her lips and she gently stroked one finger along it. She said, "M. Deveraux, the Irish boys taught me a game called ten strokes. Do the French boys play it too?"

I chuckled. Indeed, in my teen years I had played this game with the mam'selles of New Orleans. I said, "Grainne, it has been a long time since I played. I do not know if I can do it now. But let us try."

The game worked like this. My cock was throbbing to come now and I knew that a few strokes would get it there. But Grainne was going to try to bring the game to its end without letting me climax. I knew the tension would be exquisite if I could control myself.

She took my cock in her hand. Saying, "One," she slowly wrapped her lips around it and took it deep into her mouth, then pulled up off of it. She counted, "one thousand." Then she again took it in her mouth, this time quickly up and down, then up and down again. Now she counted, "one thousand, two thousand." She licked down to the bottom and back up and rolled her tongue around the tip, down and up and around again, and down, up, around one more time. Then she stopped and counted off three seconds as my cock throbbed.

Four strokes now, deep and fast, then pulled away and counted off four more seconds. My cock was begging for attention now and the long seconds made me gasp. Five strokes, slow slow slow slow slow, had my cock thrusting deep into her throat before she pulled away. Now she held a hand around the shaft and took six short strokes around the pulsating tip. Six seconds was an eternity, waiting for her lips to return.

Seven strokes now, each one down and up and then a circular tickling with her tongue that drove me right to the edge. She pulled back and slowly counted off the seven seconds as I moaned. Quickly she slid her lips around my cock for eight strokes so fast I could hardly count them. I felt my excitement peaking and was just on the verge of climax as she pulled away. "One thousand, two thousand..." I was throbbing and jerking my hips in my deep desire but she implacably went on to "seven thousand...eight...thousand..."

Then she barely touched my cock with her lips, and slowly moved them down around the shaft and twisted. Up to the end, and lightly back down. Up, down, lightly touching for nine strokes. It drove me wild, but after the ninth she sat back on her butt and looked me in the eyes. She smiled at me softly as she counted off the nine seconds. As she said the last word she hungrily sucked in my cock and worked it as deep into her throat as it would go, then stroked back and forth half way up and back down ten times. I clutched her head and pulled it to me as I prepared to come.

And for the last time, she pulled away. Now she counted slowly, and as she counted she rose up off her knees and rubbed her pussy up against me. She reached eight and let her pussy lips touch the head of my dick. At nine she twisted them around. And when she said, "ten!" she clutched her legs around my hips and dropped her wet pink pussy onto my throbbing cock. I grabbed her ass and twisted it into me as I forced my cock deeply into her pussy. She rolled her hips about on my rod and drove me over the edge. I shot my warm jizz into her deeply as she threw back her head and moaned. Then I pulled her to me, her little tits pressing into my chest, and simply let my cock rest in the warm wet cunt.

Soon I let her down gently to the ground. She picked up my trousers and held them for me to step in. As she fastened my belt, I reached in the pocket and took out a leather pouch with $400 in gold inside, and gave it to her. She smiled her thanks. Then she led me back to the green yard.

Mme. LaFontaine stood under her parasol and curtseyed, once again displaying that famous bosom delightfully. "Thank you once again for your attendance, my friends." Octavius was waiting for me in the hack carriage at the door. Once again I idly wondered how he had spent the time. As we drove away I considered what the next attraction at Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport might be.



Mme. LaFontaine's Palais du Sport



Coriolanus stood there with a big grin on his black face. His hips twitched ever so slightly as his dick disappeared into that little mouth. At least eight inches were already inside, and Senor Martinez must have held that number for he groaned. Grainne twisted her head from side to side, perhaps to gain a bit more room, or perhaps just to see Coriolanus enjoy it. Slowly she worked her head back up and then stroked up and down several times. Coriolanus' white teeth shone out of his black face as his grin widened. Once more she began that slow descent and more of the hard rod disappeared into her mouth. I was sure it was more than nine inches now, and my number was looking good.

She could barely wrap a hand around the remaining length of stiff dick. I figured that her small handsbreadth was less than four inches. Her hand twisted around the shaft as she held the length of it deep in her mouth. Then she lowered her hand to press up on his balls and incredibly took more of the cock into her mouth. I could tell from the motion of her cheeks that she was forcing her tongue out of the way now so it could travel down her throat. I was amazed that she was not choking yet on the massive thing.

Once again she stroked up and down rapidly several times. Coriolanus rolled his eyes back in his head and grinned furiously. He began a rocking motion with his hips. Then I saw him look down, and the little Irish girl looked up and met his eyes. She gave a slight nod. The giant slave grabbed the back of her head and thrust his cock into her hard. We stared in amazement as its entire length vanished into her mouth! With apparent pleasure she sucked as hard as she could, standing up and moving her body away from him with her hands behind her back, so we all could see the depth to which she had been penetrated.

Then she pulled up off his hard cock, standing up and throwing her hands in the air and flashing a huge smile at all of us. She grabbed her partners dripping staff in both hands now, and rubbing and twisting rapidly brought him to a quick climax. He spurted jizz into the air almost to her shoulder height. One of the slaves handed her a towel and she wiped him off, and then grinning broadly he put his loincloth back on and took his accustomed spot in back of the room.

Madame came forward and grabbed Grainne's hand and they both made a deep curtsey, showing both the naked girls pretty tits and Madame LaFontaine's decolletage to great advantage. We all broke into applause and cheers, even though each of us was $100 poorer by this gamble.

"Mes beaux," said the hostess, "Despair not because you have many chances to gain your losings back tonight. Believe it or not, one of these girls has recently given birth and is even now in milk. Your next gamble is to pay $100 for the chance to squeeze one of these beautiful tits and see if you can squirt anything out of it. Who will be first?"

Each of us threw another $100 in gold into the pot. Colonel Robais came forward first, and chose the pointed tits of Desidera. He took his position behind her, and she leaned back into him with her ass pressed into his crotch and her hands on his hips. As he reached for her tits, she bent her head back and gave him a kiss. "Buena suerte," she said, "Good luck." The Colonel got a good grip on both tits and squeezed them hard. I laughed at that and said, "Sir, have you never seen the slaves milk a goat? You have to pull on the nipples!" The Colonel grinned at me and seized a nipple in each hand and gave them a good pull, but without effect. He shrugged his shoulders and massaged each breast well anyhow, and then sat down.

Next M. Delacroix came forward. While we all knew him to be an infallible judge of money matters, we wondered what expertise he had with milky tits. His choice was the coloured Creole Belle. I had been eying those large puffy nipples and thought he had a good chance. M. Delacroix, always slow and careful in his judgment, approached Belle and studied his targets eagerly. Then he reached out both hands at once and ran his fingers around the puffy areola on each breast. Finally he grasped the maroon nipples between his thumb and forefinger and showed he knew more about milking than we gave him credit for. He pulled and squeezed, and then again, but without effect. "Eh bien," he said, and bending over gave each nipple a gentle kiss before returning to his place.

After him Mr. Jackson the American lawyer had a turn. We had no doubt that he would pick the Negro girl. Not only was he fascinated by the smooth black skin, but her large tits seemed to be ample milk containers so we thought he had a good chance. He choose the rearward approach, giving him a chance to press his cock up against her broad ass as his hands moved from her waist up onto those big boobs. He took his time feeling their roundness and softness, and then he grasped the black nipples and squeezed. His face fell when nothing spurted out, but Annemarie threw her head back and presented her thick lips to his and he sucked on those instead of her milk.

Now it was my turn. The wild Cajun girl Felicia was my choice. Her tits were upturned and had large nipples and I believed that might be a good sign, despite her flat belly. I reached out a hand to one, and caressed it gently. Did I see a tiny droplet form on the nipple? With high hopes I caressed the other boob with similar results. I knew what I was about now. I grabbed a nipple in each hand, and stroked it toward me strongly. My reward was a stream of beautiful white milk from each one, which splashed over my face. Cheers come from my compatriots, and my lips sought those winning tits and I sucked the warm milk into my mouth greedily.

Mme. LaFontaine came forward with the gold clinking in her hand. One of the remaining two men called out, "Madame, do we not get our chances?" Madame laughed and waved to the two remaining girls. Senor Martinez raced to Emilee, and Judge Beaulais to Grainne, and hopefully pulled on their tits. Having no luck then both decided to try one other way and greedily tugged the nipples with their lips. Then they rose up and shrugged, having had a chance to enjoy losing.

"Now, gentlemen, I ask each of you to take out a $20 gold piece and look at it." Wondering what was next, I drew one from my purse and held it in the palm of my hand. "How big around is it, gentlemen? Is there a man among you whose cock is that big around? I am sure there is. Consider how high a stack of $20 coins it would take to equal the length of your staff? Felicia, come here, my dear." The tall thin Cajun strutted forward. Madame took my $20 coin and laid it on the end table by my chair.

Felicia came toward me. She spread her legs until she was straddling the table. Her pussy was pulled wide open and the pink lips gaped. Slowly she lowered it down over my $20. I saw the lips clench, and she raised herself up to show an empty table where my coin had rested. Then she reached out and took my hand, rubbed it over her slightly juicy pussy, and took it to her lips for a kiss. I gave her a big smile and assumed my $20 was her tip.

But Madame continued, "Ah, now the game begins. Get your $20 coins out, mes braves. Felicia will circulate around the room from one table to the next. The winner will be the man whose coin she cannot pick up. He will, of course, give the first two coins back to Felicia, but the rest are to keep." Now here was a game we had not played before. I had no idea how many coins that girl could pick up but I was willing to see.

She began her circuit of the room. At the table next to me, I studied how she clenched her pussy lips around the coin. As she moved on her ass was turned to me and I could see how she leaned forward slightly to press her pussy flat against the table surrounding the coin. She tightened the cheeks of her ass with each pickup. I was watching the coins, but also thinking of some visit to the Palais when I would take advantage of that tight ass in bed.

She returned to me with six $20 coins up her pussy. I knew they would make a nice stack, but not nearly as long as any man's dick yet. Quickly she scooped up another of my gold pieces and passed on. Around the room yet again, my mind flashing between the count of coins and those twitching ass cheeks. For the third time she came to me. I calculated she had a $240 pussy now, and even with her tip that would be a nice amount to win. But she was far from finished. After she left with my third $20 piece, I saw that she had left a few drops of pussy juice on the table. I rubbed my finger in them and sniffed the enticing spell. Gambling was exciting, but sooner or later it would be time to choose one of these marvelous girls for further enjoyment.

After the third round she was carrying $360. I tried to visualize the height of a stack of that value. Surely it was as much as a good man's cock now. But easily she scooped up my fourth $20 piece, and the next three as well. Now with $400 inside her she came to the Colonel's table. He watched carefully as she seemed to make a great effort to pick up his coin, but she sighed and held it tightly in her pussy lips. She moved on to M. Delacroix. He pushed his gold out with one finger, hesitating slightly as he studied the wide spread lips of her cunt. She moved to the table and lowered herself. I saw her ass clench as she tried to encircle the coin, and then she rose up and lowered her pussy down again. After two tries, she stood up and shrugged her shoulders. Then she came in front of the banker, spread his legs out, and pushed her pussy toward his hands. He held out one hand, and massaged her pussy with the other, and a shower of $20 gold pieces spilled out.

Surely that was a banker's highest dream realized, a cunt that spilled out gold! I laughed at the appropriateness of the whole thing. M. Delacroix was following my thought because he laughed with me. Then he choose three $20 coins and handed them to Felicia. She leaned forward and kissed him and he rubbed her wet pussy as she did.

Madame returned to the stage smiling. "Gentlemen," she said, "I can see that playing with tits and pussies has had its effect. Each and every one of you is dressed in stylish tight trousers, and it is easy to see that you are all ready for action. Come into the dining room and I will explain the next game."

Burning with curiosity, we all followed her into the elegant dining room, with its large table that could accommodate at least thirty guests. It was draped in a white linen cloth that fell to the floor on each side, and six chairs were spaced near one end of it. "Gentlemen, choose a chair if you please." We all did so, noting that the chairs were spaced so far apart that dinner conversation would have been difficult.

The six girls, still naked, entered the room and gathered at the far end of the table, some distance from all of us. Madame joined them, and explained the next game. "Each of you must put his hands on the table in front of him. In a moment these lovely girls will crawl under the table and approach you. One of them will open your trousers and pull them down below your knees. Then another will approach you and rub your organ enough to stiffen it. After that, the game begins. The girls will move around under the table. When you feel a girl's lips on your cock, you must try to guess which one it is. Each guess requires you to put $100 on the table in front of you. When you guess correctly, you and that girl can retire to the rooms down the hall. The money you have in front of you will go to the girl. Are you ready, gentlemen?"

Here was another game we had never played. I felt my cock throbbing at the thought of what was to come. The girls disappeared under the table, hidden well by the cloth. Soon I felt hands unbuttoning my pants, and raised my hips a bit so she could slide them down. Those hands left, and another set of soft hands soon grasped my cock. I was already close to fully erect and it took very little rubbing to bring my rod to full stiffness. Then those hands left also.

I kept both of my hands on the table as required. The next sensation I felt was a soft tickle as a tongue flicked over the end of my waiting cock. It was very tantalizing and I let my mind focus on enjoyment. Soon soft lips encircled the head of my dick and sucked gently. I thought over the girls I had seen and tried to consider who might be doing that but I really had no idea. I could see expressions on the other men's faces ranging from contemplation to simple contentment. I waited to see who would make a guess.

M. Delacroix guessed "Felicia" but then frowned as that girl left him and he knew he was wrong. Colonel Robais suggested "Grainne" but giggle told him he had missed too.

The lips on my cock moved up and down with a twisting action. Could this be my wild Spanish girl? "Desideria," I called out, and a soft laugh from below the table told me I was wrong. I laid $100 in gold on the table. Soon another girl began to move her mouth up and down my cock quickly and for a moment I was too distracted to even consider naming her.

Mr. Jackson, the American, seemed to feel something he had been waiting for. "Ah," he said, "those plump lips must belong to my African beauty Annemarie." As he said that, the Negro girl emerged from under the tablecloth and rubbed her body all the way up his until her big tits were before his lips. He sucked at them hungrily, and then she led him down the hall to the bedrooms. We all chuckled, happy that our lawyer friend had his fantasy fulfilled. Meantime that second pair of lips were around my cock taking it deep into her throat.

Judge Beaulais made his guess and was wrong, then Senor Martinez called out Desideria and was rewarded by the fiery Hispanic girl climbing up his lap and leading him down the hall. I was getting very excited now. I thought the lips around my cock were small and soft, so I guessed "Grainne." Another giggle cost me another $100 in gold. The Colonel guessed "Belle" and lost $100, and M. Delacroix named "Felicia" and put his money on the table too. 

Now I felt lips on my cock again, and they were working with amazing dexterity and skill. First circling the ridge at the top, then licking all the way down to my balls, then climbing back up to the head and rotating around it, they were driving me to ecstasy. I thought that only one of New Orleans' highly regarded octoroon girls could be that skilled, so I guessed, "Emilee," and smiling, the octoroon emerged from under the cloth and rubbed up my body. Her white tits came in front of my mouth and I sucked one of them into it, rolling the nipple with my tongue. Then she took my hand and we went down the hall to her beautiful bedroom, leaving the others still at their game. I wondered how much some of them might lose, and then decided I did not care.

Emilee's lovely white ass twitched enticingly as she walked. I could not resist getting my hands on it, and she smiled back at me as I did. She halted briefly to turn her head and press her mouth against mine, probing with her tongue deeply. Then we continued down the hall. As we entered the room, she turned to me and pressed her body up against mine, rubbing her tits on my chest and her pussy against my throbbing cock.

Swiftly she undressed me, taking great care with my soft linen shirt and my doeskin trousers. She had been well trained in dealing with gentlemen, I saw. My mind went to a popular song in the city, substituting her name into it: "You be nice to the gentlemen, Emilee, and they will be nice to you." This white skinned girl who could never mingle with white ladies in the city would surely find that the white men would enjoy her company here.

She rubbed her tits down my body and knelt before me, continuing the skillful blow job she had started under the table. Her mouth went up and down, around and around. She would leave my cock for a moment, and her eyes would flash at me as she teased. Then she would engulf it again and excite me with rapid strokes. Now she pulled back again, and rolled her fine tits over my cock, rubbing up and down. She twisted her chest back and forth so the nipples stroked the sensitive head of it.

Then she was pushing me back onto the bed. She slid over my chest and straddled my shoulders, pressing her dripping pussy into my lips. I ate it hungrily, finding the hard bump of her clit and working it with my tongue. Then she pulled back and turned around so I could fondle her fine white ass. Soon she turned and bent forward to suck my dick into her mouth again. Several fast strokes brought me close to the edge. She raised up and moved her hips over my crotch, lifting her pussy over my upright rod. Slowly, ever so slowly, she dropped down until her wet lips took in the tip of it. She twisted her hips and I groaned with my desire. Then she let it slide into her, deeper, deeper, deeper until it probed her innermost softness. Still slowly she raised up, sank down, up again, down again. My hips thrust up into here each time, harder and harder. 

Now she drew it fully up into her, and I could see that she began to clench and unclench the cheeks of her ass. This contracted her pussy around my dick and drove me to the very edge of my climax. Then she stopped all movement, and I felt my cock throb as it was held tight in that deep wet tunnel. Once, twice, three times it throbbed, and I clutched her hips in agony and ecstasy. Then suddenly she began rising up and down as fast as she could, and I thrust right along with her. My climax was rising rapidly as her ass flashed in front of my eyes. Finally I grabbed her white cheeks and pressed it down onto my cock and shot my full juices into her in a mighty rending climax.

I fell back exhausted and she slumped forward, spreading the cheeks of her ass in front of my eyes and still holding my rod in her pussy. After a few minutes of savoring the warmth, I pressed gently on her butt and she rolled off me. As she had been taught, she went to the commode and poured warm water on a cloth and wiped me off. Then she offered me another cloth and I wiped my face and chest with it. Gently she picked up my clothes and helped me dress.

I took her, still naked, gently in my arms and lightly kissed her lips. Then I took out my purse and removed some gold pieces from it. "The rules of the game say you get $200 for my wrong guesses, my dear. But since my third guess was so very right I am adding another $200 to it." The coins clinked on the table and her eyes shone.

"I know you are a gentleman, sir. I hope to see you again many times," she said.

"You will, my octoroon beauty, you will indeed," I promised. Then I gave her one more gentle kiss and walked back into the parlour. One of the slaves went to the door and called for my carriage. 

When it arrived, I could tell from the broad grin on Octavius' face that he had found what he wanted in New Orleans too. Both tired but happy, we headed for our hotel. I tried to add up my winnings and expenses but it tired my head so I gave it up. I resolved to spend a few days here and give the Palais du Sport more of my patronage.