0 comments/ 20607 views/ 0 favorites The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 01 By: Tall_cool_one To the thousands of readers who have enjoyed my stories, I say thanks! This new offering, The Voyages of Luscious Lucy, is a work in progress and I don't as yet know where it will lead our characters. Once again, our hero is an older musician type guy who gets himself into all kinds of kinky situations with the fairer sex. If any of you have any ideas for situations, feel free to send them along through Author Feedback, and I'll twist them into this randy tale. Read and enjoy! Chapter One: And Then There Was Velda I don't remember when I first got the bright idea to move out of the old house and move onto the boat. I just remember having this urge to make a change. It wasn't something I had a lifelong craving to do. But then, I can't remember ever really having any life long urges at all! I didn't even actually go out and buy the damn boat either. Although, when it landed in my lap, I probably should have gone straight to the head doctor, had myself carefully diagnosed, and found out what exactly was wrong with my head. I suppose I should explain what transpired in the months leading up to my revelation to become a vagabond of the sea. Or should I say transient harbor dweller! Because I really have no knowledge of the sea or for that matter, any desire to travel the world. But I definitely had a hankering to see some real estate, other than that upon which I had spent the past twenty six years of my existence. My wife of twenty odd years had taken to wandering off for days or even weeks at a time. I knew she had grown tired of me, and was "In search of her real self." I certainly couldn't blame her. I really had been a test of her patience. My chosen profession was being a musician. After so many years of middle of the night homecomings, or early morning homecomings, or some days, mid-afternoon homecomings, the arguing had finally just stopped and I knew it was just a matter of time 'til she put the haul ass on for good and quit coming back to me at all. What I wasn't prepared for was the Mariposa County, California Sheriff calling to inform me she had perished in a high speed auto accident. His question was what did I want him to do with her remains? I had to give that a little thought. My first impulse was to say, "You've got the wrong person." But I didn't, and I made a hasty trip to Bootjack, California to take care of what had to be done. I found out things about her that I would never have believed a year prior, but decided that anything she had done was due to the way I had treated her and so I sucked it up and had her sent back to North Carolina to be buried with her people. This all took a couple of days and several thousand bucks, which I didn't have so I screwed up my VISA card and chalked it up to bad luck. Then I headed back to Florida and went back to my old routine. -------- About six weeks after her death, I received a letter from a lawyer over in town asking if I could meet him in his office to discuss my deceased wife's will. I had no idea she even had a will, and had even less of an idea of what she might have that was of any value. The house where we lived was a hand me down from my parents and she had no claim to it. Other than that, I couldn't imagine what she would have left in a will. I put on a shirt and dirty tie and fired up my ancient Chevy Impala and drove the fifteen or so miles from Neptune Beach into Jacksonville. After circling the block twice hunting for a meter, I found a spot and walked into the lawyer's office only twelve minutes late. I checked my Timex and was pleased I had made it on the correct day. I'm not big on keeping schedules, except to be on time for the music gig to start. Lawyers are not my favorite breed of people. Any dealings I've had in the past with the legal profession have usually required them to bail me out of the drunk tank or save me from prosecution on some other equally mundane charge. And it usually cost me more money than it was worth. Arthur E. Peacock Esq. Was etched on a brass plaque on the door to his office, on the thirty first floor of the old Barnett Bank Building in downtown Jacksonville. The building smelled like old wet books. I opened the door, which announced my arrival with a nerve grating squeal as I pushed it open and stepped inside. One of those prehistoric hydraulic closers took the door out of my hand and returned it to its normally closed position. The office looked as if it had been used to shoot an old Mike Hammer film in. I swear to you, his receptionist had a name-plaque sitting on her desk indicating that her name was, in fact, Velda! The room was at least twenty degrees cooler than the hallway, and smelled of Velda's perfume, and stale cigarette smoke. Velda stood and stepped around her desk. My heart hammered in my chest as she extended her soft hand to shake mine. "You must be Mr. Kewl," Velda cooed, taking my hand in hers. I couldn't remember whom the last person was that had called me Mr. Kewl. Everybody just calls me Mac, short for McFadden. My parents never told me where the name came form. I guessed it must have been a joke they shared secretly between themselves. Velda stood about four inches shorter than my 6'-3". About five inches of which was her high stiletto heeled shoes. Velda had long glistening copper hair, which cascaded around her heavily freckled face and tumbled over her shoulders. She wore a one piece black dress that fit her like a second skin, reaching only far enough over her gorgeous bottom to be decent. Velda was also stacked. "I have an appointment with Mr. Peacock," I croaked. "I know," Velda said, "and you're late, you naughty boy." "Well, sorry about that, couldn't find a meter." I lied. Velda was still clutching my hand. "I'll tell the Boss you're here." Velda touched the button on an ancient intercom on her desk and drooled out her message to the lawyer behind the dark oak door on the right side of the room. The voice box crackled an unintelligible response, and went silent. Within seconds, the door creaked open and Arthur E. Peacock, Esquire thrust himself into Velda's office. To say Arthur Peacock, Esquire is a colorful character, is like saying Castro is a tyrant! He could pass for Danny DeVito in a white linen suit. All smiles, the red faced man rushed up to me, taking my hand like a long lost relative, he ushered me into his dark office all the while explaining how happy he was to finally meet me. Parking me in a huge leather chair in front of his massive carved mahogany desk, "Make your self at home," he bellowed. "Can I get you a little eye-opener?" "Not just now," I stuttered, taking in my surroundings. Arthur E. Peacock, Esquire was either a damned good lawyer, or a real con artist. His office had all the ear markings of the "Big Time." The walls were paneled in thick, dark pecky-cypress. The ceiling was hammered tin, reflecting the style of the old south. His walls tastefully displayed original paintings by various well known Southern artists. And the floor was covered in thick burgundy plush carpet. His desk was immense and heaped with hundreds of file folders stuffed with papers. One small area, immediately in front of his high-backed leather chair remained uncluttered. A single file folder occupied this space. "Damn glad we finally get to meet," He boomed again, pouring three fingers of dark bourbon over a couple of ice cubes and landing in his chair with a great exhalation of air. "Maureen's been keeping me up to date on you ever since y'all tied the knot!" Arthur explained. "Damn shame she was such a lousy driver. I've had to fix a mess of tickets for her over the years. You still doing the music thing?" "Yes sir," I replied, "until something better comes along." "Well, today might just be your lucky day," He interjected. "You see, Maureen came into some family inheritance a year or so ago and according to her will, you get it all." "She never mentioned it to me," I said. "Just how much is some?" "A little over three quarters of a million!" Arthur Peacock breathed, tossing the bourbon down in a single throw. "I think I should join you," I exhaled after my tongue came back up out of my throat. "Help your self," He waved his hand. "Bring me one too." I obliged and after I took a long pull of the bourbon, letting it burn itself all the way to the bottom, I asked, "Are you serious?" His laughter was like rolling thunder, "You're God damned right I'm serious. And that's not the end of it. There's a little old houseboat tied up out there at The Beach Marina that belongs to you now too." "What kind of a houseboat?" I asked, dumbly. "Says here it's a seventy three footer, with twin diesels and all the trimmin's," He read. I tried to imagine how long seventy three feet would be in my mind. It evaded me. I supposed time and distance were relevant to some people, but to me it made very little difference. Peacock handed me a ring with several keys on it and shuffled back into the papers lying on the desk. "Here's the check for the cash, the keys and title for the boat. I've paid slip charges on the boat through the end of the month. After that, it's up to you where you berth her." His eyes sparkled when he talked about the boat. "If you decide to sell her, call me. I'm quite interested in buying her. Other than that, Mr. Kewl, I think we're finished here. Unless you have any questions concerning my niece's will?" I plucked a card from the crystal holder on his desk and sat for a few seconds, digesting the events of the past hour. My eyes burned from looking at the check I held in my hands. Pay to: McFadden A. Kewl, $782,809.01 was embossed in red and dark blue on the pale blue document. My hands shook as I gazed stupidly down. "I do have one question," I said. "Where'd it all come from?" "Her old man had a sister up in New Jersey doing some kind of real estate thing," He said. "She thought Maureen was a little cutie-pie when she met her as a child and dropped the whole bundle on her when she died. Maureen spent a little time on the boat but never got into the money very much; until she bought that damned car she got killed in. She zeroed in on this red Porsche, and took off a runnin' for California, leaving that Deborah girl she played around with for so long stranded with the boat." "I don't remember any Deborah," I commented. "How long were you married to Maureen?" Peacock asked. "Over twenty one years," I stated. "And you didn't know she had this thing for young girls?" He prodded. "I knew she messed around in college but she evidently kept it concealed from me since then." I added. "Well, she's had this one living on the boat for almost a whole year," the lawyer said. "I'll evict her if you want me to, or you can handle it your own way." "How old is this female, anyway?" I inquired. "I don't think she's more than twenty, or so." He estimated. "But you'll have to determine that for yourself when you talk to her. I went there and told her about Maureen and she seemed pretty much devastated with the news. It sounded to me like Maureen was paying her freight and now she's going to have to fend for herself. 'Cept, she's doing a fine job with the boat." "Is this girl going to be a problem for me?" I asked. "I think you might want to go and check out the whole situation, My Friend," Peacock instructed. "She's really a very nice person and you might want to help her out, after you see the boat. If you know what I mean?" "Yeah, sure," I answered. "I'll make sure I'm real nice to her. After all, she was screwin' my late wife!" Peacock bellowed with laughter. He reminded me of a troll. I stood up and tucked the bank draft deep in the bottom of my wallet and shook the beefy little man's outstretched hand. He stood behind his desk as I retreated from his office. -------- Velda was leaning against the front of her desk, filing her already perfect nails with an emery board. Her short skirt rode high on her hip, exposing the dark lacy top of her hose and the garter snap that held it up. Velda gave me all her pearly white teeth in a huge smile. "So you're the guitar player Maureen kept so secretly hidden away," Velda cooed. "Guilty," I replied. "Did you know Maureen?" "Oh yes," Velda sighed, dreamily. "For so many years." Velda looked to be about thirty five and had a far away look in her eyes. As I stepped closer, I could see them welling up with tears. "Do you know the girl on the boat?" I asked. "Debbie?" She asked, startled. "Yeah, sure I do. I was there when Arthur came with the news about your wife. Debbie was crushed." "Would you join me for a cup of coffee?" I asked. "Or maybe a drink after work?" "I'll tell the boss I'm leaving for the day," Velda offered, turning on one spiked heel and heading for Peacock's door. I waited as she disappeared into Peacock's office for a period of about eight or nine minutes. When she reappeared, her hair seemed to be a bit mussed up and her lipstick was definitely smeared. She winked at me and disappeared through another door, which I guessed was the powder room. Within moments she returned, once again carefully coiffed and rouged. "Gotta keep the Old Boy happy," Velda remarked, stepping up to the door and waiting for me to pull it open. The ride down in the ancient elevator from the thirty first floor took forever, because we made stops on almost every floor to pick up and deposit riders. I was pushed to the back of the car with Velda standing directly in front of me. It only took two floors for her to be pushed back against me with my stirring manhood pushed tightly into the swell of her butt. By the time we reached the ground floor, I had grown to full proportions, and had no idea how in the world I would hide the lump in my britches when we departed. Stepping from the elevator, Velda slipped her arm through mine and walked all cuddled up next to me just like we were old lovers. "You're either a real bad boy, or just really in need of some attention," Velda said as we headed out the door onto the street. "I can help you with that." "I suppose you can," I chuckled, as we walked up the block to where I had parked my old wreck of a car. Velda wrinkled her nose, bunching up her freckles, when she saw the car, but slid carefully onto the seat when I opened the door for her. I climbed in the driver's side and stuck the key in the hole. As usual, I had the wiggle the worn key a few times before it turned and fired the big V-8 to life. The old Impala might look tired from the outside, but the 396 cubic inch engine throbbed with the heart of a lion. I shifted into first and pulled out into traffic. "Where to, Honey?" I asked. "You do want to see the boat, don't you?" Velda asked, pulling her leg up on the seat and turning to face me. The black dress had crawled up, exposing all of her stocking tops and her garters. I glanced down and she spread her legs more so I could see all the way up to the black nylon covering her bush. Velda was giving me a whole beaver shot. "I guess so," I whispered. Velda smiled, displaying her pearly white teeth again. "Head out to the beach, we can stop at Raspberries for a drink if you want." I knew Raspberries very well. I had played music there a hundred times or more and knew everyone that came in there at night. It sat on the water, facing the river on the extreme outboard end of Beach Marine's yacht basin. I've watched a thousand boats enter and leave over the years and was intrigued knowing my late wife had a houseboat moored right under my very nose and I'd never known about it. Go Figure! I'd only spent a few afternoons in the place. Usually these visits occurred when the band was booked to play there, and I had reason to check the equipment or make a repair. I was never one to hang out where we played. I judged the less familiar you got with the patrons, the less aggravation you'd have in your life. Although, I've been known to disappear after the gig with one of our fans, and spend the night getting familiar. Maureen knew the deal, that's how we met. The bar was dark, they usually are. We migrated over to take a table at a window overlooking the boat slips. Velda perched on a soft chair, squirming her butt into the chair so as to make sure her skirt ride up and give me a view of her gorgeous hips. I took the seat next to her and waved for a waitress. Velda fished out a Virginia Slim and handed her lighter to me. I touched the flame to the slender cigarette and watched as she inhaled. "Dewar's, rocks, and water on the side," Velda announced. "Whiskey and water for me," I added, as the petite blond waitress stood gnawing on a wad of gum. "Shew-ah, that it?" the blond queried, tapping a pencil on her order pad. "Yeah, Honey. That ought to just about do it!" Velda grated, obviously irritated by the attitude of the rude waitress. The little charmer spun on her heel and made way for the bar, leaving Velda and me to our own devices. Velda pointed out the window at a long, sleek vessel tethered to the seawall directly across the marina from where we sat. "Thar she blows, Sailor," Velda giggled, waggling her digit in the direction of my recently acquired treasure. "She might need a little sprucing up, but I think she's seaworthy. I've spent quite a bit of time over there and you'll be surprised when you see the cabin and staterooms. God, she must have been a beautiful ship when she was new." Velda's eyes sparkled as she gazed at the grungy hull of the boat. Grungy is being kind. It appeared that the hull was made of steel, because what had once been a soft pastel yellow and dark brown was now rust streaked from years of neglect. The structure above the rail looked to be steel also, but had been carefully trimmed with wood and adorned with many feet of stainless steel railings and shiny chrome fittings. A fly bridge grew from her cabin roof and extended sky ward. In her day, she had been a show stopper. I needed this boat like I needed another hole in my head. "I can't wait," I mused, scowling out the window. I slim figure appeared through the door opening in the side of the cabin. From this far away it was hard to tell much about her, only that she stood about 5'-6", had nice tits, and short brown hair. She wore tattered cut-offs, and a boob shirt that barely covered 'em. She padded to the stern and loosened the line holding the boat to the pier, and retied it again. She made her way up the far rail to the bow and did the same with the bow line. The river has a five foot tide swing this close to the ocean so it was a constant chore keeping the lines adjusted. "There she is, Mac," Velda whispered. "That's Deborah Mason. Maureen adored her." "I don't get it. Am I missing something here?" I asked. "Sweetheart, your sweet little wifey went both ways!" Velda scolded. "A hot wet pussy or another woman's mouth meant just as much to her as a hard cock sawing into her." I groaned. "You didn't know, did you?" Velda asked. "I had no idea," I answered, stunned to be hearing about the double life my dearly departed wife had been leading. "I knew she wasn't happy with me, but I thought it was because I was always screwing up. I didn't know she was a muff diver too." "Sugar, Maureen would fuck anybody for laughs," She giggled. "When you were out playing your guitar, she was out balling somebody. But she always had a steady squeeze she kept tucked away for special times." "You seem to know an awfully lot about Maureen," I commented. "I ought to, we spent a lot of time together," She sighed. "Do I dare ask doing what?" I wondered. "Let's just say, we were intimate," Velda said. I groaned again. This was getting very hard to understand, but I wanted to find out as much as I could before I ventured over to the boat to talk with its inhabitant. The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 01 "You're not a lesbian, are you?" I asked. "Of course not, but a woman can get me just as hot as a big hung stud does." She declared. "Think about it. You like it when a woman sucks you off, don't you?" "Sure," I said. "Well, I like it when a woman sucks me off too." She stated. "And on most occasions, she does a better job than a guy does. Because the guy is interested in other things and not how he's making the woman feel. But I still gotta have a hard cock in me on a regular basis, or I get crabby!" I could feel Velda's stocking clad foot rubbing on my leg under the table. Velda smelled great too. Like fresh daisies. I was staring at her face when she looked at me. She looked me right in the eye. "Maureen told me all about you," She said, softly. "She loved you intensely. But she had other needs. She had to be the dominate one in the relationship and she couldn't be that with you. That's why she and I started up. She could control me. I didn't care, but I didn't love her. She just made me feel good when we were together. When the boat came, we came here instead of going to my place. She never liked that much, because it was mine. This was hers and what she said went." "Sounds kinky to me," I said. "Oh, it was sometimes," She continued. "Especially when she would bring a guy or two around for a group session. She loved taking it from the front and back at the same time. And she loved it when she could watch me or whoever else getting fucked, or sucking some dude off and sharing his cum with her afterwards. She was a real wild chick. I'm gonna miss the action." "What about the girl over there?" I asked. "She made the mistake of falling for Maureen," Velda said. "She'd get jealous when Maureen would screw somebody else in front of her. Or make her do somebody else. But Maureen was the boss and Deborah did as she was told, or paid the consequences." "Such as?" I quizzed. "If Deborah would complain, Maureen would make her do all sorts of degrading things," Velda recalled. "I remember once when she said something about Maureen bringing a couple of guys there one night. I was ready for anything, but Deborah wanted to be with her alone. I was even in the way she told me. Maureen got really steamed and made her take both of the guys on at the same time. Then she made her eat me out and sit there while she sucked them both off and made her swallow their cum after she passed it from her mouth to Deb's. Deborah never made that mistake again." "Maureen could be a trifle demanding at times," I added. "Does Peacock know about all this?" "Arthur doesn't know shit!" Velda insisted. "He knew his sweet little niece was a tramp, but he doesn't know about me or most of the other sordid things she was up to. I kept Maureen insulated from him as best I could. I do little things for the boss, now and then, to keep his mind off the unimportant stuff that might upset him." "You mean like a quick blow job so he'll give you the afternoon off?" I chided. "Whatever it takes," She giggled. "He says his wife doesn't do that." "I'm sure, and you must just hate it," I returned. She shrugged. Miss congeniality with the jaw full of gum wandered back up to our table and I ordered another round. She was a little friendlier this time around, and even smiled once. I watched her walk away. An old friend of mine from Mayport named Dave would call her a "Real Stem-winder", by the way her hips rolled under her tight shorts. I chuckled to my self. "You like that?" Velda inquired. "Naw, just thinking about an old bass player buddy of mine form Mayport," I answered. "He'd have made a comment about the way her ass moves when she walks." "Oh?" She asked. "And?" "Nothing, really," I mused. "He likes to watch 'em walking away. Says there's beauty in the way a woman's butt moves when she walks. I think he might be right." "You men are strange animals," Velda observed. "But what would we do without you?" "You're so right, Sweetness," I said. "Now let's go have a look at my new boat!" The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 02 Chapter 2: The Luscious Lucy The walk from Raspberry's door around the marina to the boat would have been a long three blocks. I opted to drive around and park closer to the aging watercraft. At my age, walking was one the things I avoided as much as possible, even if my doctor did preach at me to great lengths about its value to my constitution, which had been taken to great test by whiskey and women. As we approached, the aging vessel seemed to gain length and width. She was a lot bigger than she looked from across the bay. I stepped out of the car and stood with my knuckles perched on my hips and gazed at the huge metal houseboat. Printed across her stern, in garish black and gold letters, the name "Lucille" glared at me through the rust. Except for the fact that her hull was streaked from the constant rusting where the paint had been chipped away, the rest of the boat had been immaculately cared for. The wood trim had been carefully re-varnished and the chrome and stainless gleamed in the brilliant Florida sunshine. The windows were clean and the decks glistened. Soft music drifted from within. Velda stepped up to the boarding ramp and removed her spiked-heeled shoes before stepping down onto the deck. She pointed at my feet and I followed her lead and removed my shoes too. "Deborah Honey, it's me, Velda," Velda called softly through the open doorway into the lounge. I gazed at her lovely haunches as she stepped inside. Dave was right. A woman's butt is truly a work of art. Velda's got a great rump. I followed her in. Deborah's face appeared through an open doorway toward the front of the lounge. She burst into smiles and shrieked when she recognized Velda. The svelte young girl rushed into Velda's open arms and they came together in a hot open-mouthed kiss. It was obvious that they had also been intimate in the past. "Oh God, Baby," Deborah gushed. "I'm so glad to see you!" "I've missed you too, Sweetie," Velda breathed. "This is Mac." Velda turned to the side and Deborah looked into my eyes. Her deep brown orbs immediately filled with tears and she broke down in a great howling. I had no clue what I had done to evoke this horrendous clamor from her. "Oh," She sobbed, "I'm so sorry about Maureen. I just don't know what to say." The howling continued. I looked at Velda and she collected the girl in her arms and soothed her. It took several minutes for the emotion to subside. "What'd I do?" I asked, wondering why she had gone all to pieces on us. "You're going to make me get out of here and I don't have any place to go," Deborah sobbed. "He's not going to do any such thing, Honey," Velda assured her. "Are you McFadden?" "Uh, I don't know," I sputtered. "I guess not." "Mac, go and look at the rest of the boat," Velda urged. "I want to talk with Deborah, alone." I looked forward and stepped through the door into the galley. The galley was spotless and fully equipped. All the pots and pans were neatly stowed behind rich mahogany doors, which were securely latched with bright brass hardware. From the galley, I passed forward into the wheelhouse. The main pilot's console gleamed with shiny chrome gauges and dials. A large wooden ships wheel hung vertically in the center of the console in front of the thickly padded leather captain's chair. The dark mahogany wood inside of the wheelhouse was flawless. I turned around and noted a cabinet full of radio gear and pigeon holes stuffed with numerous charts and maps. I also noted the boat was equipped with radar and GPS. It would seem she was ready to head for anywhere you might wish to take her. I kept my hands to myself. I had no knowledge of the mechanics of a boat and decided that before I went motoring away, I'd need to be educated. A hatch and stairway led down into the bow of the boat from the wheelhouse into the master stateroom. A queen sized bed filled the middle of the room, with various cupboards and closets along the curving sides of the hull. To my left behind me was the head with a basin and shower. I was intrigued by the amount of headroom below decks. I could nearly stand fully upright, but I had to keep my knees bent or my head cocked just a bit to keep from hitting the ceiling. Around the other side of the bulkhead was a door that led aft, to another stateroom which had smaller bunks on either side. A closet was neatly fit into the curving hull at the head end of each bunk, and storage cabinets overhead. A door opened off the back of this room and down into the engine room. The inside of the engine room was as impressive as the rest of the boat. The twin, eight-cylinder Perkins diesel engines looked as though they had never been run. I could see no grease or even any dust on anything in the compartment. All the piping and wiring had been carefully painted and color coded for easy identification. Someone had painstakingly restored the inside of the "Lucille" to her original grandeur. Or maybe even better! As I assessed the condition of the boat, it was clear that all she needed was a paint job on the hull and she'd be better than new. I was impressed. "What do you think of her, Sir?" A timid voice asked over my shoulder. "She's magnificent," I allowed, turning to stare down into the upturned face and red swollen eyes of young Deborah Mason. "And to whom do we owe the credit for all the tidiness of this ship?" She raised her hand up. "I had to keep busy, so I just kept cleaning and painting everything." She squeaked. "Well, I'd say you stayed very busy, indeed," I said. "Looks like we might have to haul her out and do the bottom before she sinks, though." "She won't sink," She demanded, stamping her bare foot. "But I don't even have enough money for food, let alone paint for the bottom. Mr. Peacock came by and gave me some money last week but it's almost all gone." "Well, Darlin', I don't think you'll have to worry about food," I said. "And I think I can afford to get her painted. But I'll want you to stay aboard until we decide what's to become of her." Instantly her face brightened. And her mood became almost bubbly. "No problem, Sir. I'll be happy to stay and do anything that needs to be done." Deborah said. "I mean, I'll do almost anything if I can just stay here." She stepped closer to me and put her hands on my arm, stretched up and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Just about anything," She whispered in my ear. "Does she run?" I asked, changing the subject before my dick got any farther out of hand. "Oh, yes Sir!" She chirped. "Here, let me show you." Stepping past me to a control panel situated on the starboard side of the engine room, Deborah flipped a series of switches and mashed one of two large rubber buttons, which set in motion a sequence of events which led to the firing of first the port diesel and then the starboard. As soon as both engines were idling smoothly, Deborah checked a panel of gauges and watched intently as the temperatures began to rise in the powerful engines. Shortly, a ventilating fan whirred into motion, drawing fresh air in from a vent on one side and exhausting the hot air out the other side. Both turbo-charged engines idled as smoothly as any I had ever heard. After several minutes, Deborah turned, smiling broadly and looked back at me. "My Daddy taught me all about boats," She beamed. "I tuned these babies myself. She'll run steady at fourteen knots for as long as there's enough fuel to keep them going. Right now, we're pretty low. Maureen didn't give me any money for that." "Do you know how to drive it?" I asked stupidly. "Of course, Silly," She giggled. "Do you want to take her out?" "Not today," I quickly added. Deborah looked disappointed. She began the ritual of shutting down the mighty diesels. Soon again it was quiet on the boat. "I will you know," She said. "You will what?" I asked. "Do anything you ask me to," She whispered. Deborah stood with her chin on her chest, staring at the engine room floor, waiting for me to say something. She was a pixie with great boobs, and red painted toenails. "There will be plenty of time for that," Velda announced as she entered the cramped compartment. "I think we need to talk a little business, don't you Mac?" I nodded dumbly and followed the two women out of the bottom of the boat and back to the lounge. Velda produced a bottle of whiskey and glasses while Deborah scampered into the galley for a tray of ice cubes. "I'm assuming you have no immediate plans to sell the boat?" Velda inquired. I had no immediate plans to do anything. Not even to go home. So, I simply shook my head. "Good, then Deborah has a place to stay until you do have a plan." She stated. "As you can see, she has done a magnificent job of cleaning up the old rust bucket. And I can tell you; this tub didn't look like this, six months ago." "Can either of you explain to me why Maureen failed to tell me about any of this?" I asked. "Maureen needed some place where she could be the boss," Velda explained again. "With you, she was not in command. Here, she was. It was just something she had to have." "I still don't get it," I grumbled. "But it's too late now to worry about it." "That's a good boy," Velda soothed. "Everything will be all right." I dug in the bottom of my wallet and found two moldy hundred dollar bills and gave them to Deborah to stock up her galley. My next stop was going to be the bank to negotiate some cash from the check I'd received from the lawyer. Not that it was burning a whole in my pocket; I just felt the need of some rustley green stuff in my pocket for a change. I left Velda with Deborah on the boat and drove to the bank. Then I went home and called the insurance man and inquired about rates and he made reference to having the hull surveyed before he could write a policy. This was already becoming very complicated. I lost the tie and long pants, found a pair of cut-offs, a t-shirt and sneakers and headed back to the boat, first stopping at the market for a few food items with which to prepare dinner for the ladies. It was straight up six o'clock when I got back to the marina. The inhabitants of some of the other boats were returning from whatever it was they do during the day and activity seemed to have picked up. I parked, grabbed the two sacks of groceries from the back of the car and walked slowly down the dock toward the boat. I could hear giggling as I approached the rear deck and stepped aboard. Deborah bounded out onto the deck and relieved me of the groceries. Velda followed, and asked if I wanted a drink now. I nodded my head and she disappeared inside. I stood there with my mouth hanging open. Both of them had changed into the skimpiest of bikinis while I was away. Deb, who was slight and very tan, had on a white thong that consisted of mere scraps of cloth covering only her most strategic parts. Voluptuous Velda wore a red one which struggled to hold her soft melons within. I wandered inside to find them at the liquor cabinet, mixing the drinks. They were rubbing against each other as I approached. The giggling continued. "Gonna let me in on the joke?" I questioned, taking the glass from Velda's outstretched hand. "Maybe," She cooed, "if you're real nice to us." "How nice do I have to be?" I asked, taking a pull on the cold whiskey. "Not very," Deborah squeaked in her tiniest little girl voice. "We've been naughty since you left." I could just imagine what they had been doing since I'd left. The pheromones scented the air. All I had been hearing about was women having sex on this boat since I first learned of its existence. "Don't tell me," I said, "let me guess. Somebody on this boat has been playing with somebody else's pussy. Right?" "We can't fool you for a minute," Velda jibed, running her soft hand up my arm and stroking my neck with her fingers. Deborah moved close to me, pressing her body against mine from her toes to her chin. Her arms went around me and I felt her wet tongue flick my ear. Velda's hands crept up under my t-shirt. She began teasing my nipples with her nails. Mr. Johnson extended his way down the leg of my cut-offs and strained to stand out straight. As you might suspect, my hands started to tremble and the ice cubes tinkled in the glass I was holding. I reached out and set the glass on the counter to prevent myself from dropping it. I turned my head and Velda covered my mouth with hers. Her tongue wormed between my lips. It had been a while since I'd enjoyed the attentions of a sweet smelling young creature toying with my affections. Now I was being engulfed by two naughty vixens, either of which could have reduced me to smoldering ruins with a bat of her eyes. I was in heaven. Velda noticed me trembling first and said to Deb, "Let's go below to the master stateroom and see if we can encourage Mr. Kewl to let you stay on the boat for awhile." "Good idea," Deborah agreed, pulling me forward toward the hatchway at the front of the wheel house. As we descended the stairway, Velda pulled my shirt up over my arms and head from above while Deborah went down the stairs backwards tugging my shorts open and pulling them down my legs. I almost went over frontward in the process. I was herded over to the bed and pushed down on my back. Deborah covered my mouth hers and Velda gobbled my fully extended cock into her mouth. Velda's mouth was hot, and she went right to work on me. It is usually my normal operating procedure to be the aggressor in matters of a sexual nature, but this time, all I could do was enjoy. Bikini tops and bottoms went flying and I was being ravaged by the two of them. If Velda didn't slow down, I was going to cum before I had a chance to treat either of them to any of my special talents. I pushed Deborah up and tried to sit up. Velda made a valiant effort to push me back on the bed, but I out weighed her by a sixty or more pounds so she soon lost the battle. I shoved her aside and rolled her over on her back, wedging my knees between her legs. I pushed her legs wide apart and dove into her bushy copper colored pussy with my face. A long growl escaped her throat when my mouth swept across her soaking wet outer lips. "Ooh, yeah! That's it, Lover! Make me cum!" Velda gasped. Suddenly, I felt a hot tongue on my butt. Deborah had crawled behind me and was cupping my balls in her hands and nibbling on my ass cheeks. I felt her hot breath on my balls and then her tongue scorched me as she sucked first one then the other into her mouth. She massaged each gently and let it pop from her lips. Her tongue traced a path from my scrotum upward and circled the puckered flesh around my sphincter before piercing its way inside. My cock was as stiff as it had ever been in my life. Velda squealed and erupted on my face, grabbing a double handful on my long brown hair and locking her legs behind my head. She bucked through her orgasm pulling me as far into her oozing cunt as she could. Somehow, Deborah had managed to get under me kind of sideways and was pulling herself beneath me in an effort to get my cock above her pussy. I was about to run out of air when Velda relaxed her grip on me, allowing me to raise up enough for Deb to slide her pussy right under the object of her affection. All I had to do was lower myself and I slid balls deep in her hot wet hole. Then she started to move in all directions at once. The willowy young woman's cunt fit like a second skin and she came alive under me. I started to return the motion with a steady thrusting of my own. After what seemed like minutes, we were slamming against each other with great smacking lunges. Velda's legs were still tangled through my arms and under Deborah's fanny, so all she could do was lay there with us fucking on top of her. Deborah's mouth was glued to Velda's drooling cunt, while Velda wailed through clenched teeth each time Deb's tongue hit her distended clit. I had reached the point of no return and started to dump a monster load of thick hot man milk deep in Deb's clenching hole. Never before had I deposited such a river of cum. Of course, this was the first time in my forty six years I'd ever made it with two women at the same time. I instantly became addicted to it. -------- I realized that I'd had my eyes closed for a long time and when I finally opened them, it was dark outside. I could hear the soft heavy breathing of both women. One lay on each side of me on the bed. I rationalized that it should have been very warm but I felt a cool movement of air wafting over my naked body. Heat radiated from the body of each woman as they slept close to me. I had surely died and gone to heaven. But even in heaven, a man's got to pee, so I extracted myself from between them and proceeded into the head. I could see quite well inside the unlit interior of the boat because of the bright moonlight streaming in through the windows. I went to the lounge, passing through the wheel house where the digital clock's glowing red numerals on the console indicated 23:15, which means 11:15 PM in real life. I paused in the galley long enough to retrieve a cold beer from the fridge on my way aft. The marina was quiet. I sat naked on a stool at the bar, sipping on my beer, and looked out the windows at the other boats tied up in the slips. There were maybe two dozen watercraft of various length and description within range of my vantage point. Some were dark, obviously uninhabited, while others displayed signs of life. Immediately across from the seawall bulkhead where we were berthed, a motor cruiser of fifty or more feet in length had lights on in every window. I could see two couples through the open side curtains. They seemed to be having a wonderful time as their laughter echoed across the stillness of the water between us. Taking a chance on being spotted spying on them, I crept out on the open aft deck on the boat and sat on the padded bench that ran across the stern. To my chagrin, the cushion was covered in dew, and cold as hell on my bare butt. But I endured and sat there with my eyes riveted on the people in the next boat. I couldn't believe that I was sitting naked staring in through someone's window in the middle of the night. But, the four people on the next boat were all naked too, which gave credence to my voyeurism. It was difficult to ascertain what was going on, because I could only see them from the waist up when they were standing. If they sat down, I could only imagine what was happening. "You're a bad boy," A voice whispered from inside the salon. "But if we go up on the fly bridge, you can watch them fuck." Velda stepped out onto the deck. She had a thin filmy robe wrapped around her stunning body. She pointed to the ladder which led up to the steering tower on the cabin roof. She headed up the ladder first, with me hot in pursuit. The chairs topside swiveled around so you could face in any direction. Velda spun the chair closest to the other boat around and motioned for me to sit. She pulled several cushions off the benches and stacked them next to my chair, huddling close and hugging my leg to her nearly nude breast. From here, you could see down into the lounge of the next boat and watch as the two naked couples engaged in every sexual act you can imagine. The shorter of the two women had close cropped dark hair and a great thatch of dark pubic hair. She was busily taking the thick cock of a tall red faced man deep in her throat, while her taller blond girlfriend was stretched over a low table, either getting it doggie style or taking a hard dick in the ass from a dude with wavy grey hair and a tattoo on his shoulder. The blond was making a lot of noise so I figured she was taking it in her butt. Velda clutched my leg firmly, and rocked gently on the pile of cushions in unison with the motion of the couple on the coffee table. The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 02 "Sounds like Sarah enjoys it in the ass," Velda whispered. "I like it up my ass too." Her fingers inched up the inside of my thigh and found my totally erect cock. Her fingers wrapped around me and she just held my pecker in her fist. Her other hand was wedged between her legs, slowly massaging her clit. Velda's breath rasped through her nostrils as we watched the people on the next boat. The red faced guy shot his load in the dark haired girl's mouth and pushed her away. He stood up and started pulling his clothes on. The other guy just kept slamming his cock into the blond. Red face finished dressing and hurried off the boat toward the parking lot. The girl disappeared into the boat. Mr. Grey Hair must have had stamina, because he launched into the little blond for a long time before he released his offering deep in her bowels. When he finished, he pulled his long thin cock from her ass hole and wiped it with her hair. Velda groaned. The man dressed, extracted a wad of money from his wallet and dropped it on the table close to the still prostrate blond and exited the scene. "Whores," Velda whispered, "Gorgeous, young fucking whores." "Every body has to make a living," I said quietly. "Yeah, but you have no choice if you're a whore," She said. "At least if you're a tramp you get to pick who fucks you." There was truth in what she said. "I want you to fuck my ass, Mac," Velda announced, rising from her perch on the pillows and removing the shimmering wrap. Shifting the cushions on the deck, she kneeled down and pushed her gorgeous ass up in the air. I crawled out of the swivel chair and spit in my hand, and rubbed it on my cock. I took dead aim at Velda's dark rosebud in the moonlight, and leaned into her. Her pucker parted and I slid deep in her tightness. Air gushed from Velda's hole as I filled her with warm cock. The air also went out of her lungs as she felt me filling her from behind. She pushed back for all her might and only seconds later, my hairy crotch was plastered tightly against the round orbs. I began sawing in and out of her. First with short quick strokes, then with ever increasing length and intensity, until we had a steady violent rhythm going. We both grunted each time we came together. I could feel Velda's fingers in her cunt, rubbing on my cock through the thin membrane separating her twin fuck tunnels. Then I came in her ass, exploding like a fire hose inside of her. Cum oozed out of her ass all around my plunging cock, bathing our legs. Then she cascaded forward and lay flat on her front. I collapsed on top of her, still balls deep in her ass. We were both exhausted. I heard a giggle and turned my head to stare straight into Deborah's shining eyes just above the deck where she stood on the ladder from below, watching us. "Nice job, Boss," She giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from signaling the neighbors of our presence on deck. "You two getting a moon tan?" -------- I slept late the next morning. Velda had taken a cab home with the first rays of daylight and Deborah had busied herself with the chores on the boat. I dragged my body from the bed and got a hot shower. The quarters in the head were tight, but manageable. Certainly only a one man operation. I was growing attached to the old boat, and its inhabitant. But my God, "Lucille"? The name reminded me of my grandmother, and B. B. King's guitar! The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 03 Chapter Three: What's In A Name? I'd be remiss if I failed to mention that I have, up to this point, had very little direction to my life. My only passion has been playing music, and there are those who say I'm fairly good at it. I am generally late for appointments and I really don't much give a damn if my bills get paid on time or not. Irresponsibility seems to be a trait that I inherited from my father, because he was never one to keep his commitments either. I do, however, insist that I am punctual for musical engagements. Why I have this compunction is anybodies guess. Maureen and I met in a bar down in Micco, Florida where I was playing, one night, and fell in lust for the rest of the weekend. I don't think I was ever in love with her, but we sure raised a lot of hell for a long time. That was over twenty five years ago. Why I was attracted to her is still a mystery to me. She wasn't particularly attractive, she just happened to be there when I got the urge. We went to her dump apartment out on the beach and screwed each other stupid for two days. Say what you will about her, but she was a dynamo in the sack. She had a good body, not great, but good. She was a little pushy and made it a point to tell you just what she wanted, but she fucked like a rabbit. The band I was working with was a rag-tag bunch of guys from the north east Florida Coastal area and we thought we were pretty good. I was about twenty at the time and hadn't garnered a whole lot of experience for the road yet. We had this big hairy bass player from Mayport playing with us and he took it upon himself to be my tutor of sorts. Dave had all the moves. He was a superb bassist, probably the best I've ever worked with, and a hot lead player when we needed him to help out. But he always told me he loved the bass because he could spend more time watching the women on bass than he could on lead guitar. But he taught me how to be a good musician, and he taught me most of what I know about women. Dave also told me that Maureen would break my heart some day, and he was right. But that came later on. Maureen and I ended up getting married three days after we met. I took Maureen with me when we left Micco, and she stayed with us on the bus until we got back to Jacksonville, five weeks later. We got a place close to the water in Jacksonville Beach and things went pretty well for a couple of years, until I went back on the road for a seven week swing up through Georgia and the Carolinas to make some extra bread to buy her a real wedding ring. Word got back to me that she was hitting the clubs along the beach while I was away, but nobody ever saw her with another guy. She was always with her female friends. Of course, musicians have been known to stray from the marital bed from time to time and I was certainly no exception. Fortunately, I never encountered any sexually transmitted diseases, and to the best of my knowledge, I haven't fathered any children along the way. Dave was fifteen years older than me, and whenever we traveled together, he looked out for me. There were times when I wanted to kick his ass for treating me like a kid, but he kept me out of jail more than once and from getting my ass whipped more times than I can remember. "I just don't know why you had to go and marry that Maureen," Dave would say. "It's gonna end in tragedy some day." Dave had it right. Maureen took to wandering off for weeks at a time. Of course I didn't blame her for it. I had been on the road on and off over the years and she had been left to do whatever she damn well pleased. I did what I wanted too. But we always wound up back home together. My folks both passed away in the same year, Mom from cancer and Pop from a lonely heart. I grieved over dad. I still miss him to this day. That old man could play keyboards like nobody else. Dave told me once that he used to work with him in the hotels along the beach in the old days when rock and roll was really rock and roll. We took him on two tours with us, and had to fight to keep the women off him after the shows. That silver haired devil had a sparkle in his eye and a perpetual hard-on. I found out that he and Maureen were doing the bump and grind one summer when I was up north doing the state fair circuit. I didn't believe it then, but I do now that I've been filled in on some of my dearly departed wife's escapades. Anyway, when dad died, we moved into his old house on Myra Street in Neptune Beach. Maureen was in heaven with a house to decorate. She nearly bankrupted me the first year buying new furniture. But we survived and stayed there for a coon's age. We were less than a block from the ocean and Maureen became a beach bunny, wearing the briefest of bikinis and growing darker with every hour in the sun. I figure she was making acquaintances on the beach because she would stay away long after sunset and come home smelling of alcohol. Most of the time, I wasn't there anyway because I was working the lounges all over the area. I'd come home and find her draped in a chair or asleep on the porch, having forgotten to take a key when she left for the day. And I knew what the sticky white stuff was on her clothes and face and in her hair. Dave called it just like it was. She was a party girl! But I never caught her with anyone. Maureen gave me her full attention when I urged her to. I'd say we were going to do this or that and she was there. I'd ask for a certain meal and she would cook it for me. And she never complained until one day about four years before she was killed when she told me she had other plans for the weekend and I'd just have to get along. I was irked, but what could I say? I'd pack up and be gone for months at a time without as much as a by-your-leave. How could I argue? But the bitching got worse and I began staying out later after the gig and drinking more than my fair share. When I'd come in tanked, the battle would rage and she would leave for a day or two until we both cooled off. Finally we simply quit speaking at all. I think that's about the time she inherited the money and the boat from her aunt. When she did come around, I could see she was losing weight and had let herself go. I was forty five and Maureen was fifty four when she had the wreck. I didn't even know where she had gone, or with whom until I got the call from California. What a drag! I called Dave and told him what had happened. His reply was sad but true, "Told you so, Old Buddy." I wanted to bust him in the chops for being right. But, Dave was usually right when it came to life. He called this one a long time ago. -------- A couple of days after my encounter with Velda and Deborah on the boat, I decided to walk over to Neptune Beach's world renowned watering hole, Pete's Bar, on First Street. Pete Jensen opened this oasis way back in the dark ages. I think one of his daughters is running it now but it's been there for as long as I've been alive and a lot longer I'm sure. I used to go there with my dad and grandpa when I was just a child. I stepped into the dark cool bar and stood just inside the door, letting my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside. Pete's smelled of stale beer and cigarettes. So, what else would you expect? A female voice interrupted my thoughts, "Izzat you Kewl?" "In the flesh," I responded, scanning the bar for a familiar face. There were only four other patrons present, plus Caroline the bartender. The only face I recognized was hers. "Sorry to hear about Mo, Mac." Caroline said, coming around the end of the bar to embrace me in a mammoth bear hug. "We're gonna miss her around here." "This was one of her favorite places," I added. I perched on a stool and ordered a Crown and water, fished a c-note from my new money clip and instructed Caroline to set the house up. First time in my life I ever did that, but there were only six of us counting Caroline. Big spender! "So, Kewl, now that you're single, how about we get together some night let our hair down?" Caroline asked. "Might be a good idea," I answered. "What you got in mind?" Caroline leaned across the bar, mashing her ample tits against my hands as she did, and whispered in my ear, "For openers, you could fuck my little ass until I can't walk. Then we'll think of something fun to do." Caroline was a buxom woman of about thirty five years, with very long yellow hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her skin was naturally dark, like she spent lots of time in the sun, only she didn't. She was small in stature, but had gargantuan tits and a cute little pug-butt. And she had been lusting after me for many years. "Caroline," I said, "You've been after me to do that for so long now, what would you say if I said let's do it?" "I'd tell you to come over to my place on Cedar Street at 7:30 tonight and let me cook you some shrimp," She giggled. "Then I say let's get naked and fuck!" "Best offer I've had in a long time," I mused. "I'm gonna take you up on it." Caroline poured me a generous shot of Crown over my melting ice cubes and she seemed to glide along behind the bar. I had obviously made her day. I wasn't sure how it would end up, but it looked like I was in for the ride of my life. -------- I tossed the crown down and walked slowly back to my old house. As I approached from down the block, I was struck by the obvious disrepair of my home. I stood in the street at the end of my drive and looked up at the wind and sun baked cedar siding. The weather had turned it to a flat shabby gray color and here and there, shakes had been blown away revealing the black tar paper beneath. The eaves and fascia were in desperate need of paint as was the trim on all the windows. From here you could see that some of the old curtains inside hung askew and there were four or five cracked window panes on this side of the house alone. Many of the shingles on the roof had also been blown away in the frequent storms that sweep up the beach all year round. I was suddenly very aware that I needed to do something with the old place soon or it would fall in on me. I shouldered the sticky front door open and walked into the damp house. I stood inside the door and took stock of the interior. It was every fucking bit in need of repair as the outside, and just as dirty as the street out front. I decided it was time to clean it up. I knew that Dave had a brother that did home repair so I decided to give him a call and get an estimate on doing some work for me. I grabbed a cold brew from the refer and hunted for the remote phone. I found it on the floor in the bathroom. The red light was blinking, indicating that I had messages. I hauled the phone and a second beer out on the porch, which looked across the end street out onto the beach, and dialed, for my messages. The first message was from the boat yard across the river from Mayport. They could take the boat for a hull survey and rehabilitation on Monday morning. Today was Wednesday. I made a note to tell Deborah she'd be homeless for a few days. I reckoned she could come here and promised to pick up some of the trash before I let her in the house. She was cute and I liked her. The next message was from Ron, our drummer telling me we had music on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at the Ramada Inn on the beach. I liked that place. The last message was from Velda. In a soft syrupy voice she told me what a wonderful time she'd had on the boat and hoped we could do it again real soon. I made a mental note to call her very soon. I had just hung up from my messages when the phone rang in on me. I was still holding the phone in my hand and almost dropped it when it rang. As luck would have it, it turned out to be Dave. "Hey, Guitar Slinger," He bellowed into the phone. "Where the hell you hidin' out at?" "It's a long story, Thumper," I said. "We'll get together and I'll fill you in on all the details. What's on your alleged mind?" "I need ya ta sling some guitar in a new group I'm settin' up," He said. "You're the only picker I know can handle a challenge any more." "What you got in mind?" I queried. "I got a chick singer that plays keys out of St. Augustine and another guitar player lined up to do some old rock and roll." Dave explained. "You remember the drummer with the blue Ludwigs?" "I do," I said. "He's in but you gotta hear this canary," He breathed. "She can sing the blues and it makes ya sweat. And she looks good too. A regular stem-winder!" Knowing Dave like I do, that meant she had a great ass. Dave is an authority on the female butt. "What the hell, I'll take a chance," I told him. "I'm booked all through the weekend but we can jam next week if you want." "Fuck, we don't need to jam," He barked at me through the phone. "We'll just meet at the Monson's in St. Augustine Friday a week, and do the weekend. You know all the tunes so it won't be necessary to practice. I gave that up twenty years ago when we were on the road, remember?" "You're so right, My Friend," I laughed. "How silly of me to even mention practice." This kind of gig always worried me to death, but Dave has never let me down so why should I worry. The singer was probably a knockout anyway. "I need your brother to come and fix my house," I told him. "Yes you do!" He replied. "When?" "ASAP. It's about to fall down on me." I said. "I'll have him call ya. I think he's loafing right now anyway." He said. The phone went dead in my ear. Dave never was one for ceremony, when he was done talking, he just hung up. My kind of guy. Caroline had mentioned shrimp for dinner, which called for a bottle of white wine. I was confident I had some under the sink in the kitchen where I stashed to other booze. Sure enough, I found a fresh bottle of Black Tower. I debated with myself whether I should change or not. I won the argument and stayed in shorts and t-shirt. I resurrected a crumpled Food Lion grocery bag from the floor next to the overflowing trash can and wrapped the wine carefully in it. I hit my chin quickly with my Norelco and splashed on some aftershave from a bottle that had lost its labels years before. I walked the four blocks to Caroline's house. The weather was perfect for early June and the locals were out in their yards doing all manner of domestically correct summer activities. The smell of burning charcoal filled the air. The beach is a whole different world, and beach people are a whole different race. I wasn't quite sure if I was part of it or not. I'd lived here my entire life but never became a part of the culture. Maureen had. Everybody on the beach knew who Maureen was. And they grieved over her death. No less than a dozen of her friends waved at me and offered their condolences as I strolled along the streets. I wonder why I had never become a part of her world. I guess I'd been too busy with my own life to become a part of hers. Ain't life a bitch sometimes? I rounded the corner onto Cedar Street, glanced up at the house numbers as I walked up the incline toward the beach end of the street, and located Caroline's little bungalow nestled back in the palmettos. Her front yard was overgrown with scrub, and covered in an explosion of colorful summer flowers. Shell mobiles, swaying gently in the ocean breeze, hanging from the eves on either side of her door. The screen door was closed but the front door stood open. "Hello, the House!" I called out as I rapped a couple of times on the door frame. "It's open, Sugar," Came the cheerful reply of Caroline from somewhere within. I pulled the rusty handle and the screen door creaked open, offering me access to the spacious living room just inside. The house was dim, compared to the late afternoon sun blazing out on the street. I pushed my shades up on the top of my head and looked around the room. Very clean, well cared for, orderly, and very beachy. Caroline floated into the room in a bright yellow sleeveless sun dress, with the short full skirt swirling around her legs. Her enormous boobs only barely contained in the low cut front. The thin spaghetti straps holding it up were being tested fiercely. Caroline looked ravishing. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail and hung nearly to her waist in back. She wore beaded sandals and a smile. The gleam in her eyes said she was happy. I suddenly felt good too. She swept up to me, stood up on the very tips of her toes, mashed her big jugs flat against me and planted a soft kiss on the bottom of my chin. I stood over a foot taller than her 5'-2". "I've waited for almost forever for you to come here," Caroline said, holding me at arms length and beaming. "I'm honored," I managed, holding the sack with the wine out to her. She took the bag and disappeared into the kitchen, returning within seconds holding a tall iced tea glass out to me. "Crown and water, right?" She asked. "Best bartender in town," I said, chuckling. "And the best lookin' too." "I'll bet you say that to all the bartenders in the places you play," She quipped. "Only if it's true," I said. Caroline motioned for me to take a seat on the sofa. I sat. She curled a leg under her stern as she settled on the opposite end facing me. She drank rum and coke from a tall glass through a straw. This woman radiated a sensuality I'd never seen before. I was immediately comfortable in Caroline's world. We didn't speak for many minutes. Caroline just sat there sipping on her drink and I wasted no time in draining mine. She stared at me with her big doe eyes, smiling over the rim of her glass. "Nobody's ever going to get in there again, are they?" She asked, softly. "Beg your pardon?" I asked back. "Your heart," She whispered. "Nobody's getting back into your heart." "I don't think anybody has ever been in there, yet," I replied. She arched an eyebrow and took the glass from my hand and went to the kitchen to refill it. When she returned, she placed the glasses on the low table next to the couch and reached out for my hand. She urged me to my feet and guided me through a doorway into her bedroom. She stopped us in the center of the small room and looked up into my face. "Then you had better fuck me right now, before you get a notion to leave and I miss out on something I've wanted since the first time I set eyes on your sorry ass." Caroline said as she eased the top of her dress down over her enormous hooters. She pushed the dress down over her hips in one smooth movement and stood there quite naked. Her hands pulled my shirt up over my head and as quickly skinned my baggies down over my butt. She had me in her warm mouth within seconds and she swept my rapidly rising erection cleanly down into her throat in a single gulp. Caroline gives great head! She worked slowly on my hardness for a long time. Her mouth is soft and she uses her tongue like a feather. I became totally submissive to her gentle oral performance. I sensed, rather than felt, her mouth move off of my prick. It felt cool instead of warm. I opened my eyes and looked down. Her face was a few inches away from my cock, which glistened with her saliva. Her lips were pursed as she blew a soft stream of her breath across me. A long thin thread of silvery fluid dangled from my tip and clung to her bottom lip. "I want that in me now, Kewl," She breathed, turning on her knees and stumping over to the bed on all fours. She crawled up on the bed and presented her beautiful round butt up to me still kneeling on the bed. Standing on the floor, I walked up behind her and pressed a finger up under her pussy and slipped it in her wet slit. I heard her take a quick breath and felt her tighten herself around my probing finger. She oozed female juices onto my hand. I quickly pushed two more fingers up into her and heard he moan into the bed. Her juices gushed out of her now. The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 03 I was slowly stroking myself to make sure I was hard and upon removing my fingers from her drenched hole, I sent Mr. Johnson all the way into her. Caroline's tits weren't the only huge part of her. She had a huge pussy too. Pushed all the way up to my balls, I could scarcely feel her on my cock. But, being a sport, I started lunging in and out for all I was worth. It seemed like a long time had passed when she came with a thundering orgasm, sending a flood of her juices flowing down my legs. I was still a long way from reaching the end of my road, and without further stimulation, I was never going to get there. Her tight little ass hole, kept drawing my eye. Caroline had climaxed twice already and I was nowhere near cumming. I spit on my thumb and carefully began to ease it into her tiny pucker. "Oh God yes, Kewl," She gasped, "Shove your cock in my ass." Without further ado, I complied with her wishes and buried myself deep in her bowels. That was much better and I came within minutes. It just goes to show ya, you never know how things are going to turn out when you leave the house. We took a quick shower and Caroline, true to her word, built us a fine shrimp dinner. I really liked her a lot, but I assured myself that this was going to be a one night stand for her. Not that I hadn't enjoyed myself, but just because she and Maureen had known each other for so long and I knew in my heart it was just a mercy fuck anyway. -------- It was after dark by the time I got home. I was just about tanked after the drinks and a bottle of wine on top of that. The phone had its eternal red light blinking when I finally got the front door open. I scanned the caller ID and picked out Dave's number from among the unfamiliar ones on the list. I mashed the dial button and rummaged for a clean glass, loaded it with Crown to finish my buzz before going to bed. The phone hadn't finished its first ring, "What?" Dave was very direct. "Izzat you, Dave?" I rasped after taking a hit from the glass of Crown. "Kewl? Hang on." Dave said. "Hey, Mac," It was Steve, Dave's contractor brother. I explained about the house and he started to laugh. "Dave says you should burn it down," Steve managed, laughing loudly into the phone. Steve and Dave were the opposite sides of the same coin. I liked Steve but he could be such and ass hole when he was around his brother. I made arrangements for him to meet me in the morning to look at the house and he handed the phone back to Dave. I told Dave about my dinner with Caroline and he said he'd have to give her a call, she sounded like his kind of woman. I knew all about Dave's kind of women and agreed with him in my mind, she would be his cup of tea. I told him about the boat. But, I decided to keep cute little Deborah and Velda with her luscious ass to myself for the time being. Dave had a habit of easing up on ya when you found some new action. I had a hankerin' to see if Velda wanted to get together again real soon, and my hairy friend from Mayport wasn't part of that picture. And I assumed I would be seeing Debbie aboard the "Lucille" in the morning. Life was definitely getting interesting. "Lucille" What a dumb name for a boat. I decided to change it ASAP. Something more appropriate to the moment, like "Lucky Lucille". Naw, too corny. I decided to talk it over with Deborah in the morning. I finished the Crown, stripped down to my skin and flopped into bed, visualizing Caroline's gorgeous haunches as I lay in the darkness. Then it came to me, "Luscious Lucy" Now there's a name for a boat! The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 04 Chapter Four: We Sail Away And that's how The Lucille became Luscious Lucy. I liked the new name and made plans to have the old boat hauled out so the hull could be scraped and repainted with the new moniker scrawled across her stern. I was also learning all about boats from Deborah. Deborah was turning out to be a wealth of information and a dynamo when it came to getting things done. Monday had come and gone, the boat was up on the rails across the river from Mayport at Monty Daley's Boatyard. The hull repairs were scheduled to take about ten days so Deborah was to move her gear into my spare bedroom for the duration. As I parked the Chevy in the drive in front of the house, Deborah turned and stared at me, "You have got to be putting me on!" She gasped, getting her first view of my decrepit old house. "What?" I responded. "You can't be serious," She whined. "WHAT?" I repeated. "This place is dangerous!" She wailed. "You haven't even been inside," I grated, irritation seeping into my voice. "I won't live long enough to clean this mess up!" She stated, uncoiling from the passenger side of the car and standing in the weed-infested patch beside the driveway. "What happened to your house?" "Nothing. Why, what's the problem?" I grumbled. "It needs a few repairs is all." Dave and his brother Steve rolled up behind the Chevy. Both of them walked up and stood with Deborah and me in front of my house. "Hi Mac," Dave said. "What do ya think Steve? He should burn it down, right?" "Would save him a lot of money, I think," Steve answered. Deborah giggled and advanced toward the door. She turned the knob and pushed on the door. Nothing happened. She pushed again. Still to no avail. "So, how do you get it open?" She queried. I stepped up and put my shoulder to the door and leaned into it. As per custom, it grated on the sill and swung in. I gestured in a wide sweep of my arm, bowing just slightly at the waist. "Welcome to Utopia." I said. "Somebody wake me up, quick!" Deborah murmured, stepping cautiously into the dank house. "I'm having a nightmare." Dave and Steve were having a great time. It was quite obvious Deborah was not going to lighten up on me about the state of my digs any time soon and they were both standing there holding their sides as she expounded her dismay. All I could do was take the ribbing because she was absolutely right. The house had been totally neglected, since long before Maureen died, and was just about to collapse under its own weight. "I think I can save her," Steve managed, hanging on to Dave's shoulder for support. "But it'll be a test." "Fuck you guys," I said, following Deborah into the house. Deborah stood with her hands on her hips just inside the front door. She scanned the inside of the main floor of the house and shook her head. She slowly made her way into the living room to the left and then back through the so called foyer into the dining area and back into the kitchen. Returning, she looked up the stairway where the bedrooms were and took a cautious journey up the stairs. I could hear her walking from room to room by the squeaking of the old floorboards. Then she returned to stand in front of me. "This won't be easy," She said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm gonna make you a deal." "Whazzat?" I asked. "I'll help you clean up this pig sty, then we go for a cruise on the boat." Her resolve was granite solid. "I got a gig next weekend with Dave." I said. "The boat won't be done before that, so you can't weasel out of it that way," She quipped. "But when she comes down off the rails, we sail. Deal?" How could I refuse. The house was a disaster, after all. "Deal." I said. Dave and Steve were standing behind us now. "It's gonna be a major undertaking," Steve entered the conversation. "How long will it take?" I asked. "All summer, depending," He said. "On?" I asked. "How much the termites have eaten over the years, and how much you want to fix it up." Steve said. The decision came to me in a split second, like the revelation you get when you're playing kick-ass rock and roll and you throw a new chop into a lead you've been trying to get right and suddenly it happens. "Get it ready to sell. I'm going to move onto the boat with Skinny here after she hits the water." I said, just like that. Deborah's face lit up like a Chinese lantern. "Really?" She gasped. "Oh how cool is that?" "What about playing music?" Dave asked, dejectedly. "I'm with ya on this gig, Old Buddy. Then I'm takin' some time off and see what's out there." I answered, waving my hand in the air. "And I think I got the right captain for this cruise." Deborah was jumping up and down like a school girl and clapping her hands, gleefully. Her big boobs bouncing wildly under her tank-top. Steve and Dave were taking careful note of the action. "Fuckin' guy has all the luck," Dave complained. "No lie," Steve agreed. -------- The next four days were a living hell around the house. Deborah was a whirlwind when it came to cleaning. I stayed pretty much out of her way for fear of bodily damage. Steve was taking careful aim at the outside of the place but promised he'd hold off on starting construction inside until after Deborah and I had moved onto the boat. I was scheduled to play with Dave and his new group on Friday and Saturday nights and Sunday afternoon in Saint Augustine. It was Wednesday afternoon and it had been several days since I'd visited Caroline. I wasn't exactly horny, but Debbie was flouncing around the house in a bright yellow string bikini, busily working her way from room to room on her quest to remove the years of grime from everything in sight. Her hair was all askew, and she had smudges of dirt on her arms and face. I was in the kitchen when she appeared searching for a fresh sponge and some kind of cleaner for the shower stall. When she bent over and stuck her head under the sink, her beautiful tight butt jumped out right in front of me. The thin strip of her yellow thong disappeared between her cheeks and divided the lips of her sweet pussy so they bulged invitingly on either side, making a perfect camel toe. I eased close behind her and placed a hand on each soft orb. I heard her squeak once but she didn't attempt to move away. She folded her arms on the edge of the sink top, laid her head on her arms and stepped back toward me. Gently, and very slowly, I let my hand move down over her warm butt and slide underneath until I felt the soft folds of her outer petals. She shuffled her feet to the side, spreading her legs farther apart. Easing a finger under the thin patch of fabric covering her sex, I felt her wetness. My finger slipped inside with no resistance. I had to bend my knees a bit so I could push deeper into her. I could hear her mumble something incoherent as I pushed a second finger into her. My knuckle must have raked across her clit, because she pushed way up on her tiptoes as a low moan escaped her lips. Then her thighs squeezed my hand for many seconds while she trembled on my hand. "You got somthin' special on your mind, Sailor?" She gasped as her orgasm subsided. "Don't move," I said. I quickly dropped my shorts and stepped out of them. I found the bows on her hips, pulled gently and dropped the ends of the strings sending her tiny bikini bottom to the floor with my shorts. I grabbed my doo-dad with one hand, put my other hand in the small of her back, hunkered down and stepped forward, positioning myself carefully and invaded her drenched pussy. She sucked in a huge lung full of air and hissed as we came together. She rocked forward. I held her firmly by the hips, picking her feet up a few inches off the floor. Then I started rocking into her slowly with long even strokes. Within moments, I erupted deep inside of her. Deborah flailed her legs as her second orgasm hit her just seconds after I started to fill her with hot cum. We stayed up there together for a long time, languishing in the aftermath of our quick fuck, before I lowered her feet back to the floor. My deflating cock slipped out of her greasy cunt, followed by a thick glob of sticky white cum that plopped down on the floor between our feet. Deborah, her head still resting on her folded arms, looked down and said, "I'm never going to get this place cleaned up if you insist on messing the floor up all the time!" The laughter was priceless. -------- The Luscious Lucy was due to come off the rails on Monday. I was scheduled to play with Dave and his merry crew over the weekend, so Deborah and I spent the next couple of days packing my possessions up for storage and organizing my personal belongings to be moved aboard when she was back in the water. Deborah made a grand gesture of throwing nearly all of my old ragged clothing in the trash and we spent Friday shopping for some new duds. She, being less than half my age, had a drastically different idea on what was fashionable than I did. So I just let her do her thing, adding a gaudy flowered shirt here and there purely to have some say in the matter and soon we were back at the house with a whole new wardrobe. Most of it was casual, but she forced me to buy a new suit and even a couple of ties. (Groan!) I loaded my amp and guitar in the back of the Chevy and we headed for The Ancient City. Deb had never heard me play before so she cajoled until I agreed to let her tag along for the Friday session. I was growing attached to the exuberant girl despite the gnawing feeling in my gut which told me I should keep my distance. But like I said before, I got no sense when it comes to women, whatsoever. Monson's Motor Lodge is your typical aging Florida tourist stop, complete with a hundred plus rooms, pool, dining room and a fairly large lounge. Dave had us checked in for the weekend so we wouldn't have to drive the 35 miles home in the middle of the night. I met the rest of the band which included a drummer named Geno whom I'd met before, Armand the keyboard player that carried a Hammond B-3 made in 1941 around, Mike another guitar player, and the singer Donna. Donna is a charmer, tall, dark haired, always smiling and stacked. She also has a song list that goes on forever. Dave told me she was good, really good! I'd heard Dave's praises before, and if he said she was really good, it was fact and I looked forward to the evening's play. Deborah and I walked with Dave and the singer across the street to The Santa Maria Restaurant, which was built out on the end of a long pier over the water at the public anchorage in St. Augustine Harbor. The food was great and so was the company. I liked Donna instantly, but decided that Dave had already set his sails in her direction and besides, I had the captain of my vessel with me to keep me company. Dave was giving Deb the eye too. Donna and Deb were soon immersed in deep conversation so Dave and I got caught up on all the dirt on our old buddies in the music business. We got back to the lounge and set up our gear. Debbie, as she kept urging me to call her, proved to be an excellent roadie, quickly learning how to plug in the amp and speaker, tuner and effects pedals and watched intently as I tuned the old Fender guitar. Dave and Geno spent considerable time erecting the PA system while Armand lugged his monster Hammond organ and Leslie cabinet up on stage and made all the necessary hook-ups. Donna reappeared a few minutes before nine wearing a skin tight, strapless, blue sequined dress. "I'd like to eat her pussy," Debbie whispered in my ear as I rose to go up on stage for the first set. I looked at Debbie and winked, shaking my finger at her and tsk tsking. The girl is incorrigible. We opened with Donna's personal arrangement of I'm Hurt, an old cross over standard. Then we played a couple of blues tunes and some old rock numbers. Dave called it right on the button; the dark haired beauty was dynamite. Each song she sang was like a concert all by itself. We ended the set with an old Peggy Lee tune called Fever. The small but enthusiastic crowd loved her, and us. Debbie pulled me down into an empty chair next to her and hugged me close. "You guys are fantastic," Debbie gushed. "Donna sings so fine!" "Thanks," I said, as Donna walked up to our table and pulled out a chair. "Nice job, Guitar Man," Donna said, hiking her skirt up so she could bend and sit without splitting a seam. "Thanks," I replied to the compliment. "You ain't so bad yourself. Why aren't you working with a headliner?" "I had problems with a loved one, recently," Donna answered. "Now I don't have the loved one to shove me around any more. So I'm hiding out at Dave's." "Makes sense to me," I quipped. "Nice dress," Debbie interjected. "Nice ass too." Debbie's fingers slid across the table to touch Donna on the back of her hand. The dark haired singer inched her hand forward to intercept the caress. I swear I saw a spark as their hands made contact. "Hi Kiddies!" Dave said, setting four beers on the table and dousing the fire that had erupted between the two sexy women. "Great tunes, Donna." Dave pulled a chair out and parked himself across from me, between the girls. If looks could kill, Debbie was on her way to jail for murder. Donna had much the same look in her eye. Then they both broke out laughing. "I miss something?" Asked the puzzled bass player. "I'll explain it to you some day," I said, joining in the laughter. Debbie excused herself to the ladies room with Donna in hot pursuit. Break quickly passed and we went back to the stage and had run through four or five songs with male vocals before Donna and Debbie returned. Donna joined us on the stage and it was clear to me, that she and Debbie had gotten much better acquainted in the bathroom, judging from the flush on Donna's cheeks and the smile on her face. Debbie looked rather proud of herself as well. We finished the set and took another break at 11:30. Debbie had a cold beer ready for me when I got to the table. Donna and Dave headed for the front door to go out and burn one. Geno, Mike and Armand zeroed in on a couple of groupies at the bar, leaving us alone at our table in the corner by the stage. "Man, is that some sweet pussy," Debbie whispered as I sat down. "And can she lick clitty!" I groaned and she giggled. "Dave's a lucky fella. She tells me they're spending quite a bit of time together these days. I think she's staying in the apartment out back of his place in Mayport." "What about Dave's old lady?" I asked. "I think she's doing her too," The excited girl said. That sounded like something Dave would be in to, I thought to myself, which is great if you can pull it off. Dave had a knack for creating interesting situations for him self. We played the last set and headed upstairs to the room which had been reserved for us in the motel. They rooms were cozy and clean. Dave and the singer had the room right next to ours and it was only a matter of a few minutes before we heard a soft knocking on the interconnecting door between the rooms. I fiddled with the lock and opened the door to see Donna standing there, wearing only a black thong and a smile, holding a Margarita in her hand. "Join us for a nightcap?" The dark haired singer asked with a big flash of her pearly white teeth. Debbie giggled, pulling her shirt off over her head and tugging her skirt down over her tight ass. "Sure, why not?" I followed the girls into the next room and found Dave sitting on the bed flipping the remote control for the TV through the channels looking for a porn movie to watch. "What's up, Sailor?" Dave asked, obviously enjoying the sight of the two naked women who were now on the bed grappling with each other. "You need to ask?" I asked in return. The big bass player cocked his head toward the women on the other bed and smiled. He was truly in his element. "I remember the first night you met Maureen," He said. "Been a lot of water flowed under the bridge since then, My Friend." "That there has, Amigo," I agreed. "That there has. I remember what you told me that night too." "Jesus, Mac. Who can remember twenty five years ago? I can't remember what I said this afternoon." Dave declared. "You said it would end in tragedy, me and Maureen. You remember that?" I asked. "And I was right." He said. "You gonna do it again?" "I'm getting' too fuckin' old to get married again, Dave." I told him. "But I think I'm gonna take the kid here and have her drive my boat for me and see what the rest of Florida looks like before I get too old to enjoy it. Mo left me enough money for a few years if I pay attention and don't get stupid with it." Go for it, Mac," Dave said. "Have your self a blast. Now let's fuck the eyeballs out of these two Bimbos!" Dave stood up, dropped his towel on the floor, crawled up on the other bed and dove between Debbie's legs with his face. I watched the singer ease across the bed toward me and reach for the zipper on my pants. Within seconds, I was balls deep in her throat. This chick was a true talent with her mouth. I stared down at the top of her head as she screwed her face completely into my hairy belly. Dave flipped Debbie over and entered her from behind, bringing a squeal from her as he slid his thick cock deep into her pussy. I watched as the big hairy bass player pounded his big meaty prick in the young girl's pussy. Debbie seemed to be enjoying herself, as was I. "C'mon, Sailor," Donna said, disconnecting her mouth from my throbbing dick. "Let's get down to business here." She pushed me down on the bed and crawled up over me. Hoisting herself up on her feet and hands, she reached down and held my hard cock up as she lowered her dark-thatched pussy onto me, guiding me straight into her steaming center. "Ooooooooooh yeaaaaaaaah, Baby," Donna breathed, sitting flat down on me. All I could feel was the slick heat of her inner walls as she sat there motionless. Then she flexed and it felt like she had stroked me with her hand. Over and over again she contracted the inner muscles of her milking cunt, never rising up. This girl has muscle tone! I began flexing back into her in return and before long, we had an easy rhythm going, neither of us using any other movement other than that of our coupled sex members. The feeling was totally consuming. Almost without warning, I felt her stiffen on top of me, sending me over the edge. I pumped a huge river of love milk deep in her clutching hole as she trembled on top of me. Her orgasm was equally as strong as mine. She ground her cunt down onto me while I filled her to overflowing. In slow motion, she leaned forward and lay flat on top of me. Her breathing ragged and her body quaking with the quick aftershocks of her huge climax. --------- I saw the gray of morning creeping in under the drapery covering the motel window. I didn't remember falling asleep, or Donna leaving and Debbie returning to my bed as I slipped out from the heavy cover of slumber. Debbie was curled up in a tight ball next to me, very naked, with her cute little butt tucked into my side. She snored softly. My pecker was enormous, and hard as steel. But then it usually is in the morning when I have to pee so badly. I moved slowly and tried not to disturb the girl as I eased out of bed and headed for the john. I stood there over the bowl with Mr. Johnson in my hand and panicked when I saw a dark red discoloration along the length of my doo-dad. I turned around so I could get more light on the subject, and discovered I had been branded with a vivid smear of Donna's red lipstick the night before. I must have been quite a sight, standing there with my dick in my hand, frantically rubbing my thumb along its length trying to figure out what had happened to me. The Voyages of Luscious Lucy Ch. 04 I heard Debbie giggle, and looked up to see her standing in the bathroom door doing the pee-pee dance and about to crack up. "It isn't funny," I protested. "I thought I was bleeding." "You poor thing," She said, pushing me out of the way so she could avail herself of the facilities. "Mama will give the baby a nice shower and wash the nasty ladies lipstick off of his little dinky." "Very cute," I grumbled. But the shower turned out to be a very nice way to start the day. Debbie was more than energetic with the soap and water and before long; she was leaning up against the wall, with me humping steadily into her from behind. "You have... a much nicer... cock than your... hairy buddy in... the other room... Captain Sir," She grunted while I thumped into her. "I think... we're going... to get along... just fine... on the boat." "I'm.... so.... glad," I remarked. Then I spilled her full of cum. The rest of the weekend was for the most part uneventful. We finished the gig on Sunday night at midnight, spent the night at the motel and Debbie and I headed for Mayport early Monday morning. Our plan was to stop at the house for the rest of our clothes and then move onto the boat to prepare for our cruise. --------- Luscious Lucy was ready and had been launched by the time we reached the marina. We stowed my music equipment and our clothes on board and settled up with the boatyard for the hull work. The boat was truly a vision with the repairs and new paint job on the hull. Debbie beamed from ear to ear as she stood and ogled our new home on the water. Of course, Debbie was very familiar with the inside of the vessel, having lived aboard for the better part of the year, but I still had some learning to do about moving around a boat and soon had a couple of lumps on my scull from the low places. We made a run to the grocery and lay in our provisions for the first leg of our new adventure. Debbie turned out to be a very discriminating shopper, choosing just the proper portions for the two of us and carefully planning her meals so as to have little or no waste. This was an art as far as I was concerned, and I could never have done it without her. I was growing very fond of my impish friend. After a stop at the bank for some cash, we loaded the last of our stock aboard, and untied the Luscious Lucy from her moorings. Debbie started the big diesels and eased us out onto the Intracoastal Waterway, then headed north past Mayport Naval Station and out into the Atlantic Ocean. Turning south as we passed the last channel marker on the end of the south jetty, Debbie gave me a quick lesson on reading the charts and showed me our intended course for Daytona Beach and the marina at Mosquito Inlet. And so begins our first voyage aboard the Luscious Lucy.