Alphonse waved happily to the captain on shore as he tossed the ropes over onto the dock and pushed the sailboat off into the water, out onto Lake Pontchartrain. The captain had the oddest expression on his face, as if he regretted something or felt guilty about something. And perhaps he did. Perhaps he was worried about the welfare of his boat. Alphonse never thought the captain had liked him, and this was the first time he'd allowed the young man to take out a charter on his own. A night cruise on Lake Pontchartrain. Very unusual. Also very unusual that the charter party had stayed below for the launching. The captain had just said to take the boat out nearly to the center of the lake and to bring it back in three hours.
Alphonse bet he knew what the charter was about. Probably some rich married CEO fucking some rich married bitch and each wanting to avoid getting caught at it. The people chartering this cruise probably would never come out of the cabin; he'd just be down there plowing her and rocking the boat for the full three hours. They'd probably pay Alphonse no heed at all. That was fine with Alphonse. The one he wanted to make love to was this sailboat. He worked the gay clubs of the French Quarter as a blues musician to pay for his room and food - and music was his life - but he worked on this sailboat out of a love for being out on the lake; sailing a ship with the wind was his heart and soul, and, as a matter of fact, was the inspiration for his music.
But the young man was wrong on both counts - that this was just a love tryst that didn't concern him and that no one would pay attention to him during the short cruise. Below was Emile LaCour, a recluse old-world planter, with plantations now in two states to prove it. And Emile was very much aware of Alphonse. His agent, Lamont Breaux had specified to the captain of the boat exactly who his client had wanted to take him out on this cruise, and the captain had been paid a huge amount of money to forget he'd ever let this particular charter or had ever known the quadroon Alphonse.
Or was 'quadroon' the right term in this century, Emile wondered. It certainly was the right term here in New Orleans when Emile was growing up. A quadroon had been someone who was one-quarter black and three quarters white. This was almost always a heavenly mix back in the early days of the city, accounting for most of the city's mistresses, and Alphonse was no exception to that. Emile had first seen him playing with a blues band near the French Market in the Quarter one dark night and then again when Emile was shopping in the French Quarter gay clubs. The young man, with that creamy chocolate body, had been full of life and had a smile that lit up the world. And he was beautiful. He was achingly beautiful, well-muscled, but lithe, a handsome face, and a free-spirited dancing quality about him.
Emile was watching the young man now, through a window out onto the deck from a darkened cabin. Alphonse wore nothing but frayed cut-offs as he put his dancing muscles into unfurling the sail all by himself, drawing the sailboat out into the broad lake. He was poetry in motion. Emile was already looking forward to his next week, to being a free, dancing spirit himself, if only for the week.
The young man was at the wheel, staring intensely out to the open water when Emile glided out onto the deck, wrapped in a black cape that Alphonse wouldn't notice until Emile was near to him. The young man must have sensed his presence - or the presence of something, at least - because he turned when Emile was still a good eight feet behind him. Their eyes locked, Alphonse's a light blue that gave interest to his light-chocolate-colored skin; Emile's a penetrating violet that had the power to mesmerize. And Alphonse was mesmerized by those eyes - held by them, as Emile unfurled his cape and stood there, an aging, but still well-preserved man appearing to be approaching fifty. He was naked to the waist, and showed a barrel chest and a solid, not fat, torso and a belly that was nearly flat. But his most distinguishing feature was what was swinging between his legs. He was wearing tight black leather pants, but they were open at the crotch, and he was swinging a good ten inches of only slightly hardened, very thick cock and two very heavy balls.
Alphonse only had time to take in a large gulp of breath and open his mouth to scream, when Emile was upon him, enveloping him in the black cape and stopping the scream by forcing his lips between Alphonse's open lips, and pushing his tongue into the young man's mouth, swabbing the inside of his mouth with his saliva, transferring his own special venom that immobilized its victims.
As Alphonse quieted down and slumped back against the wheel, Emile produced some heavy leather straps and tied the young man's arms to the wheel, pinning him there in a standing position. Alphonse watched Emile do this with long slender fingers capped off by long, sharp nails, and the young man's eyes opened wide in surprise, and he screamed in pain, as Emile slashed him up across the chest with the nails of one hand and then back down across his abs and belly, causing rivulets of blood to start flowing. Emile seemed a little surprised and chagrined that Alphonse had cried out pain as he had, and the older man's mouth went straight to the chest wounds. He was heavily mixing his saliva in with the blood and tonguing it into the wound, allowing the toxin to race through Alphonse's veins. Alphonse's eyes went cloudy, and he started to go numb. The additional saliva was deadening the young man's sense of pain.
Emile busily sucked and tongued the blood off of Alphonse's chest, as he undid the buttons on the young man's cut-offs and tore them off his body. As he had suspected, Alphonse had quite a nice, long cock and a good set of balls. He had no pubic hair, and Emile was excited to note a slight throbbing there, promising a good vein near the surface running down Alphonse's groin.
Emile knelt in front of the young man, burying his face in his belly and sucking up the blood that the slashing had produced. With his hands, he worked Alphonse's cock and balls, hardening the cock and coaxing the balls to work up as much semen as possible. When the young man was hard, Emile took his cock in his mouth and worked him to ejaculation, rolling and squeezing the young man's balls, getting as much ejaculate to emit as possible. Alphonse watched this procedure from above, somewhat disengaged with what was happening to his body, feeling and getting pleasure from the blow job, but not quite feeling like he was a participant. He couldn't figure out why this man was sucking him off. The man didn't seem to be enjoying it all that much; it was just as if he was only milking him.
Alphonse was aware enough to observe that, as he got weaker from the loss of blood and the milking, the man was getting stronger. When the man stood back up now, Alphonse thought he looked a little younger, a little leaner, his leg muscles filling out the pants more, a little beefier in the arms and chest - and his cock seemed even longer and thicker than it had seemed before.
Alphonse was still ruminating over this in a scattered sort of way when the man lifted and spread his thighs and positioned that gigantic mushroom cap on his penis at Alphonse's hole and rubbed it up and down on the rim until Alphonse was opening to him. Emile patiently worked the cap into the hole slowly, holding for Alphonse to accommodate the extraordinary girth of him. Alphonse moaned in pleasure of full possession as Emile worked inside him a few inches and worked the canal back and forth on his huge tool. The quadroon was loving this, and memories of other delicious quadroons were surfacing in Emile's brain and he was loving this too. He would take his time with this one.
Emile called out to the cabin, and the chauffeur appeared on deck, ready to take over the helm. Then Emile unlashed Alphonse from the wheel, picked him up in a bear hug that maintained purchase of his cock at a shallow level inside the young man, and took him over the lifeboat that was swinging back and forth off the stern of the boat. Emile placed the younger man in the boat on his back, his head propped up on the bow and his arms and legs splayed out in either direction over the sides. His back and buttocks were supported by two plank seats that spanned the width of the boat. The rowboat rocked back and forth as Emile deftly entered it with his light burden. He was in a crouch between Alphonse's legs.
In this position, Emile rocked Alphonse - and the lifeboat - back and forth in a gentle rhythm on the fulcrum of his quarter-buried cock. He was enjoying this, and he could tell that Alphonse was enjoying it as well. But it was time to move on. Putting his long slender hands under Alphonse's butt cheeks, Emile raised the young man's pelvis off his cock and brought his mouth down to meet it. His mouth and tongue moved over the surface of the hairless groin until they sensed the throbbing of a vein running down from Alphonse's belly to the root of the cock. Emile flashed his sharp incisors out, but just as he was about to slice into the tender flesh of the groin, he stopped, realizing that he needed to milk Alphonse again. He took Alphonse's cock into his mouth and gave me expert suck, preparing him for the second extraction.
Alphonse watched what Emile was doing to him with only passing interest. The gentle rocking of the boat, in rhythm with Emile's sucking action, was lulling Alphonse toward sleep, and he might have dozed off it hadn't been for two things. First, Emile was doing interesting things to his cock again, tantalizing the cock and balls to reload. And, even more fascinating, Emile was slowly changing before his eyes. He continued to appear ever younger, and his body started to tighten up and get the well-cut features of a much younger man. Also, his cock was getting impossibly big. But, most fascinating of all, his skin was tanning. He was turning slightly darker.
When Alphonse's cock had hardened nicely, Emile examined the ball sac to determine how the next harvest of semen was coming along. Emile sucked the cock for a few minutes and then rose up over Alphonse and kissed him deeply on the mouth as his hand went to pumping Alphonse's dick. Emile checked the tightening of Alphonse's ball sacs, and satisfied, came up off the bottom of the rowboat and sat on the cross plank. He raised Alphonse's pelvis to his face, slid the young man's long, hard cock into his mouth, and sucked him off again, not releasing him until all of the semen in the ball sacs had been delivered. Emile turned the Alphonse until he was resting his butt cheeks in Emile's lap and the older man's long, long, heavy cock ran up the small of the back of the younger man and reached for his shoulder blades. Alphonse was sighing and moaning as if in a trance. Emile lifted his torso up along his chest, positioned his long, hard cock under and between the young man's pert butt cheeks and slowly pulled the slight musician down onto his cock and into his lap, drawing him much further down on the huge tool than before. Alphonse was snuffling and groaning and moving about languidly in a drugged stupor as if he were trying to move underwater. eight, nine inches. Alphonse began to drift off, murmuring to himself at first and then quietly singing the blues, songs his subconscious remembered from his stint with the band. Emile's fangs were buried in the side of the young man's neck again, and he was accompanying Alphonse's tunes with a quiet gurgling sound. ten, eleven inches. The artery in Alphonse's neck collapsed, and Emile lifted his head. Alphonse turned his face to that of the master, as if for solace. He made the observation to himself that man who was feeding on him and fucking him so deeply had grown younger and more handsome and more perfect of body and more deeply tanned than ever before. Emile was working him up and down now on his cock. The cap to the surface and then a slow descend of fourteen inches, and then again and again. Emile was enjoying this immensely; Alphonse was slowly drifting away.
Growing a bit bored with this, though, Emile now stood and hauled Alphonse like a sack of grain back across the deck and stretched Alphonse down on top of the cabin roof on his side. Emile lifted the young man's leg and nuzzled his lips and teeth in beside Alphonse's limp dick and spent balls and found a still-pumping artery running up from the leg into the groin. He sliced into this with his teeth and began to feed. When this source of nourishment collapsed, Emile gently lowered Alphonse's leg and moved up to on top of the cabin roof and lay down behind him. The two men now on their sides, Emile positioned his pelvis below Alphonse's buttocks, his dick head near Alphonse's hole. He lifted Alphonse's right arm in the air with his left hand and nuzzled his mouth and lips into Alphonse's arm pit. When they had found the slight throbbing there of the vein, he sank his teeth in and began to feed again. His right hand went to Alphonse's hole and, with those long, sharp fingernails, he dug in and shredded the rim and the anal walls as far up into the canal as his slender fingers could reach, working up the blood at the entrance, bringing his fingers back out and smearing it on the head of his own dick, moving his dick head back to rubbing across Alphonse's hole. Emile was moaning and groaning and buried his teeth even further into the vein at Alphonse's armpit.
Alphonse was singing quietly to himself again, watching the sails flap back and forth in the wind above them, slowly losing focus on what they were and where he was. But not caring. All feelings of his ravishment were pleasurable, although something at the back of his brain kept trying to tell him that this was a false pleasure. The toxin in the salvia was covering the pain.
Emile's cock was loving the bath of blood at Alphonse's ass and had gone to fifteen inches already. He brought the cock to the bloodied hole with his right hand and rubbed the head around inside the hole when he was able to stuff the head in there. The head was being smeared in Alphonse's life's blood, and Emile was panting and heaving. He lifted Alphonse's right leg up in full extension, and in one mighty effort, he thrust up, driving his cock in. He had lost control; he had let his own passion get the best of him. At seventeen inches in, Emile spilled his seed, letting it mingle with Alphonse's blood and accepting the gift of the life and strength and beauty from Alphonse, if only for another week. Alphonse's tune had been cut off in mid note, but, although he never could carry a tune before, Emile had taken up Alphonse's blues song where the young man had left off and was quietly singing it back to Alphonse.
Emile and his driver sailed back to the dock, and after they had disembarked from the now-empty sailboat, a heavily tanned Emile was virtually dancing across the stones on the way to the limousine, singing the blues to himself.
The limousine door opened from the inside as Emile and the chauffeur approached, and Lamont Breaux moved over to the other side of the seat to let Emile enter the vehicle.
'Did you enjoy yourself?' Breaux asked dryly.
'Immensely,' Emile said with a very satisfied sigh, 'although I let myself be carried away a bit, I am sorry to say. I used to have much better control than that, and I hope to have it again - with much practice. But very satisfying, yes. I do love to sail. I am fond of the blues, but I think that sailing is my heart and soul.'
'I have news about the man you have bought Medallion from,' Breaux said quietly. He wanted to change the subject. He had seen the young man, Alphonse, himself, and he had quite fancied him too. Breaux would have like to sail that ship himself before Emile sank it.
'News? You know where he is moving to?' Emile was suddenly very interested in what Breaux had to say.
'The current owner will have vacated a week from today; he's flying out to the West Coast to live. He apparently is leaving here for good, but he couldn't get a moving company to pick up the last of his goods for another week.'
'That's interesting news,' Emile said and he fell back into the well-padded limousine cushions with a sigh. He hummed one of Alphonse's favorite tunes under his breath for a few minutes and then he spoke for the last time during their journey from the lake to the plantation house on the Mississippi. 'I do believe I will need the car and driver six nights from now.'