INTRODUCTION — All people in this story are over the age of 18 and all sex is described as it happened unless I've forgotten something. I can remember most of the sex but there were a few times I was too drunk to be sure. Oh yeah, there is a lot of dialectic slang thrown in here in so please don't ask me if I was born in China or if I am a native speaker. Ok, I ain't had much book learn'n and no doubt there'll be a bunch of typos also. Oh, yeah there is some mention of young whores in Cuba, well they are all over 18 so please don't send the story back on account of that comment.
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My Dad's real name is Richard Hattiesburg but he goes by the abbreviation Dick Hat, that's how he signs all his paintings. You might a heard of Pop, he's mentioned in all the tourist brochures that the city gives out at the airport. Maybe you didn't know we had an Airport here in the Keys? Well, we do. Truth be told, it's not much of one, the runway is so short that they only allow a few fat people on the plane or the flight would end up in the ocean.
I'm Richard Hattiesburg II, but since I was around 12 years old Pop just called me Big Dick. You can imagine why. When we'd pee off the dock trying to hit those big mosquitoes folks would stare and point, not at Dad but at me.
Having a big dick makes most men envious and most girls are easily attracted to you if your wang fills out the overstuffed front of your jeans. But when they get you alone and you get it out, she says she is too afraid to let you use it.
I learned long ago to keep my big dick in my pants until the ladies were into their 3rd or 4th beer. At that point they have their eyes half closed and only afterwards do they realize what is happening when they are on their backs, with their panties hanging down on one leg and their skirt folded back over their bellies. If they get a prevision they may well say,
"No!" or "You are too big for me."
But the fact is most vaginas are of the 'one size fits all category' but sometime you just gotta stretch it a little to fit.
When you get the first 6 or 8 inches inside them they start to squirm and say, "Stop!" At that moment you just gotta flick your hips to get the rest of your dick inside, balls deep, before the gal can take off and leave ya with two swollen blue balls.
After a few tear drenched minutes the gals acclimate and Jesus, these pussies are yours for the rest of time. I've even had one timers cut me off on the highway to get another fast fuck off on the sides of those bridges that link this miniature archipelago that is Key West. And, that's a good six months after the first time I'd fucked 'em.
These girls will even drop by the studio with their friends who they want you to open all the way up, especially if they don't like their friend's boyfriend. Those last few inches kind of seals the eventual rupture of what was but ain't going to be no more. And the bitches want to watch you do their friend! But I don't care, if there are only two of 'em I just fuck them both.
The heat in Key West is enough to suffocate you. You literally pray for the wind to pick up with its strong smell of seaweed and sea urchins, mussels and jelly fish. Sometimes the man-o-war are so thick you can hardly steer a boat through them out to the open blue waters where the flying fish will jump over your boat as if they were birds.
I live in a small house on the western shore, my dad's family have lived there since the 2nd World War ended. My Grandma said the place was teeming with sailors back then. She was alway a little unclear as to who Grandaddy was, she says she's pretty sure which of the three sailors it was that night but she can't be sure. Anyway, we've never seen hide nor hair of the scalawag. She's in her 90's now and kind of lives in the past, she can't remember Grandad's name or his face but,
"He sure had a big dick," she says.
I was just a kid born out of a young woman who had no place to go. Dad, who is now in his early 70's but could pass for 50, all muscled and tan, moved her into his home some twenty years ago with the deftness of fitting a size 6 shoe on a woman with a size 8 foot. It's never going to fit but it's the illusion that keeps you trying. She became his model and muse, with those long legs, big tits and flaming red hair. Went by the name Tangerine O'Malley.
My mom disappeared some time after I was 8 years old. It didn't happen overnight, little by little she just sort of drifted away, leaving me behind. Dad said she was heavy into cocaine and who ever was supplying it to her was also fucking her, so we just wrote her off as bad baggage.
Someone told Dad they'd seen her down in a Havana bar with a bunch of middle aged prostitutes but who knows if it was really her. Dad thought that sounded right because she was hanging around a Cuban coke smuggler back then and he shook his head at the thought of her trying to compete with the younger whores.
After she disappeared, taking all her clothes in an old leather suitcase, the old guy didn't kick me out, he let me hang around and clean his brushes and stretch his canvases. He was a painter, you might say he was talented. The tourists bought his painting up like they were cotton candy. Mostly pictures of sand and cactus and small sailing boats, sometimes scenes of the shrimpers that sailed out into the open sea every day or the crowd of guys at the old Cannery, where the smelts were packaged in olive oil and salt for the short duration of their season. Every damn picture is a little different then the one before it, excepting that in the right hand corner it was signed 'Dick Hat' and there was always a date.
The only paintings he never offered up for sale were the nudes of my Mom. There was a series of them; naked on the bed, naked on the beach, legs spread wide on the kitchen table, the same table we still eat on and some rear views of her looking out the living room to the ocean beyond with the white clouds rolling up as if before a storm.
If you looked real closely there seemed to be someone standing in the shadows of the last ones he painted of her. You could tell the old ones from those that preceded by the dates. He kept all of them nudies up in his bedroom. Said they were too artistic to sell. I admit they were a lot more interesting then the tourist ones.A nude will cut more ice then a cactus thorn.
Pop tried to teach me to paint but I just wasn't good at it. What I was good at was getting in trouble. I was always getting into fights at school and they'd suspend me even if it was the other guy's fault. I wasn't interested in school, so I dropped out. I had always been a reader, the place was littered with paperbacks and men's magazines. I knew more then most dropouts and I could write more than my name as you can see. I was never into drugs although I did start smoking cigarettes at an early age.
Dad always offered me a cigarette when he was painting and I was in charge of bringing him fresh coffee. The place smelled awful, a mixture of stale coffee and cigarette smoke with oil paint and turpentine. I was in charge of making the frames out of native palm fronds or palmetto wood. When we put the finished paintings into the front room he called his 'Gallery,' the tourists bit like fish at a hooked squid.
I sure wouldn't say we were wealthy, but we survived and we always had cold beer and Remy Martin cognac to drink. Pop would mix some of that liquorice flavored Anisette in with the brandy. He'd call that drink 'the Stinger' and he'd say,
"You didn't need no vitamins if you drank a stinger once a day."
Our car was an old Ford, so worn out that you could see the road below through the cracks in the floor boards but the engine still had plenty of pep. Must have been the sand that had a way of chewing up everything. On my 18th birthday, Pop bought me a BMW motorbike from a German tourist who had crossed most of America and ever made it north to the Alaskan highway. The bike had a motor that ran like a Swiss clock. When I spread my legs to sit on that leather saddle, my dick kinda centered in the middle, I felt like I was the king of my own little world.
That was when I met Dara. What kind of name is that? She said it was an Injun name. What do I know? She claimed she was part Seminole Injun and mostly Irish. Whatever the truth was, one thing was for certain, I don't think there was a guy she hadn't fucked or blown on the entire island but she made no bones about it. Her honesty was what saved her from being a whore in my eyes. You might say I'm not the judgmental type and I like girl outlaws.
That gal had a talent that must'a been passed down by the Lord above. She could give your cock a suck job like no other person on earth. Her tongue was like a trigger and when she was ready she'd flick that tongue in a magic sort of way and your cum load shoot out and like to hit the ceiling, less'n she was in the mood to suck it on down.
I'm not saying that she didn't pick up a few extra bucks now and then by sucking off some of the old gents at the old guy's home where she worked days doing cleanup and helping the old one's eat, spoon'n the grub into their toothless old mouths. But so what? She made them old guys happy even if they couldn't cum and that was usually the case, although some of them who hadn't dropped a load in thirty years were able to cough up a tablespoon or two.
Hell's bells, they got their pricks blown and probably got to suck Dara's tit and I'm sure at that moment they believed all was right in the world. Sure, there's a place for shrinks and counselors in an old guy's home. But let me tell ya, a full fresh tit and two puckered lips on your cock can do you a lot better than Dr. Kilroy at his finest.
Oh yeah, if we two didn't have money for a movie or a beer she'd walk up to some dude sit'n at the bar and they'd disappear for fifteen minutes and she'd come back with twenty or thirty dollars, enough to get us into the show and buy one of them huge paper baskets filled with buttered popcorn.
What did Dora look like? As you might expect long legged, she was tall, 5'9". She had big jugs, a slender waist, a well curved ass, and her whole body was covered with technicolor tattoos. She used to date a tattoo artist named Rainy. His name was signed on her left tit with her nipple dotting the letter 'i'. If you are thinking of Cher, you know, the singer, you are almost there, but Dara has bigger tits and a South Florida drawl. She also had a bit of a sexy overbite which probably helped make her a super cock sucker.
Shit, she'd even poke a hole in the popcorn basket and blow me right in the theater, make'n enough noise that half the people in the balcony would turn around. Sometimes the guys would line up thinking they were next but she'd always time it so the film was just about at the point when we'd come in. We'd jump up and she'd say, "Next time guys," and we've run the hell down the stair and out the door laughing like two crazies.
Oh yes, she did have a silver bone that she'd wear in her nose after work and two silver skeleton skull earrings that she never took off. Yep, she was kind of wild looking. What I liked was the way she'd sit on the back of my motorbike and kind of dissolve her body into mine taking every lean on every curve as if we were Siamese twins.
She hardly ever wore a bra but her tits were so firm they still stood up pretty good and her nips just popped out of them armless tee-shirts she wore under her short leather motorcycle jacket. God I was in love with that Injun devil woman like there was no tomorrow.
She always wore tight spandex pants, so tight you knew she wasn't a boy because of the big camel toe clit that she said was the sign of the Seminole women. She was proud of that. Some gay guy in the bar reached out to grab it one time and she cold cocked him with a right hook without putting down the beer bottle she was hold'n in her left hand.
