Chapter 3

The next several days were spent fruitlessly as we tooled up and down the waterways of the backcountry searching in unlikely places for the missing Miss Lucinda Deverioux.

My guide, the attractive mature Bayou babe, Dora, was keeping a watchful eye on her protégée, the luscious Brenda with her glorious rear-end that was a magnet for every male in the closed circuit end of the line. Of course, mama Dora, whom I had secretly renamed “Pussy Galore”, due to my fixation with James Bond trivia, was not aware I had already sampled her precious Brenda’s tightness below decks, when she was busy with giving orders to the dirty looking jumble of red-neck tough guys in their tiny fishing boats designed for speed and shallow passage. I had to admit Brenda’s broad beam was a delightful “pillow” of lust that deserved far more time than we had available at that moment of passion. She had taken my offering in the spirit of excited lust in the midst of danger and I knew she was one of those special ones that had a need for excitement that matched my own troubled past.

I sensed that the “uncut diamond” hardness of my “Pussy” girl Dora was stern enough to keep most of the dirty dogs of the backwoods from attempting a mount of the succulent Brenda but she had little experience with a devious prick like me with my opportunistic “Pedro” always ready to take a risk when the prize was tempting enough.

We had paused in our search long enough to resupply on vittles and fuel and the three of us, Pussy, Brenda and I were below decks on her shallow drafted cabin cruiser with the twin heavy engines that gave it customs avoiding speed.

Brenda was playing a silly game of “footsie” with me under the tiny galley table with her hovering mentor, Pussy, cupping her breast in a possessive display of “hands off” attitude aimed right at my blossoming libido. I was not a happy camper with that blatant risk because I had an inkling of Pussy’s emotional cobwebs, when it came to protecting her little heartthrob Brenda.

Her little “piggies” were even venturing up my bare legs almost to my knees and I knew it would just be a matter of time before the astute Pussy caught on about her covert game of under the table sex. Thankfully, she yawned so long and so hard that Pussy suggested she go into the top bunk down below and get some much needed shut-eye. I was all onboard with that suggestion because it would allow me to pump Pussy for some crucial background on Miss Lucinda, the missing Bayou ballbuster.

I had already met Lucinda’s uncommunicative father and he seemed either high on some calming drug or under the influence of some of that backcountry moonshine that pickled the brain and hardened the arteries.

“Dora, can you tell me why you think Lucinda has been kidnapped?”

I was much too cautious to use my internal assignment of an alias to the attractive mature dark-skinned Bayou native. I figured being called “Pussy Galore” would be considered an insult rather than the compliment it was intended to be. She was probably still too young to be an ardent fan of “007”, despite being in her mid-thirties. At least, with Brenda out of the way momentarily, I would be able to relate to the hotly-stacked female in a one-on-one, up close and personal conversation.

It started out that way with Dora giving me her slant on the developments with her knees rubbing mine unavoidably under the table. I was not in the least bit uncomfortable with that because I was spending far too much concentration peering down her low-cut blouse at her breasts unfettered by confining restriction of a tightly cinched bra. Her nipples were of an unusual design with long dark-hued tips that would probably be welcomed with pleasure into any baby’s hungry mouth. Probably into a lot of horny males mouths with equal delight for reasons of another instinct as well.

“That girl is nothing but pure trouble, and that is a fact!”

She punctuated her declaration with an obscene motion that left me no doubt the kind of trouble she was talking about. Apparently, Miss Lucinda was a bit of a loose goose when it came to nocturnal activities of the carnal variety. I could tell that Pussy was not a fan of Lucinda’s happy humping agenda and I wondered if it was from a prissy attitude or simply envy because she wasn’t getting the same sort of attention. Considering her close personal relationship with the delectable Brenda, it might be possible that she was using the young nympho to fill her raw need for physical contact and when it came to matters behind a closed bedroom door, she had little need for gender restrictions just as long as she achieved a satisfactory ending. I could identify with that in the sense I could understand her appreciation for a beautiful woman giving her secret goodies to make the night more interesting and let her have a restful sleep after her needs were attended to with a youthful enthusiastic attitude. I knew from experience that Brenda was the kind of girl that gave it everything she had when things got hot and heavy.

She went into a diatribe about the extent of Lucinda’s slutty history and I have to admit her graphic descriptions of the kinky acts that appealed to the open-minded Lucinda made my resting “Pedro” suddenly take an interest in the fact that a totally “hot” female number was only a foot or two away from actual contact and that the target in question was spouting filthy words and disgusting descriptions of the most sordid behavior that had ever humiliated a feminine nature. I wondered if this Lucinda had learned her kinky tricks commercially or was just an amateur with a passion for total degradation and loss of dignity to boost her orgasms and breathtaking releases with the lights turned down low and romantic-like.