February 1762. Tortuga’s humid night clings like sweat. La Baleine tavern snores behind me. Houses huddle close, verandas almost touching. Isabella’s window glows faint, candle flickering. Her father’s merchant house, just across the muddy alley. Neighbors’ shutters rattle in the breeze. I signal from my balcony perch. Her silhouette appears. Eyes lock. She nods, barely. Heart hammers. I drop down, feet silent on packed dirt. Alley reeks of rum and fish guts. Scale the low wall. Tap her shutter. It cracks open. Her hand pulls me in. Whisper: ‘Quick, Papa sleeps.’ Hallway dark, narrow. Moonlight slits under his door. Her nightshift thin, nipples hard against linen. Lips crash. Hands roam. ‘Too loud,’ she breathes. Drag her to her room. Door creaks soft. Shut it. Bolt clicks.
Inside, straw mattress sags. Air thick with her scent—musk, tobacco leaves. She yanks my breeches down. Cock springs free, throbbing. ‘Fuck me now,’ she hisses. No time for tender. Bend her over bed edge. Skirt hikes up. Ass bare, pale in gloom. Pussy wet, lips swollen. I spit on fingers, rub her slit. She bites pillow. Thrust in hard. She gasps, muffled. Tight heat grips me. Walls thin as paper. Father’s snores rumble next door. Neighbors’ dogs bark distant. Pound slow at first. Creak-creak goes the frame. Her hips buck back. ‘Deeper,’ she mouths. Sweat drips. Balls slap soft against her. Light filters under door—someone stirs? Freeze. Breath held. Snores resume. Ramp up. Grab her tits, pinch nipples. She claws sheets. ‘Gonna come,’ I grunt low. Her walls clench. Quim floods hot. I pull out, spill on her thigh. Ropey cum glistens. Collapse together, panting ragged.
The Contact
Silence falls heavy. Heart thuds like war drums. Wipe her clean with shift hem. Kiss fierce, tongues tangle. ‘Go,’ she whispers. Crack door. Hallway empty. Light gone. Slip out shutter. Drop to alley. Mud sucks boots. Balcony climb, muscles burn. Tavern door latches soft. Stairs groan underfoot. Cross old salt in stairwell, eyes bleary. ‘Late night?’ he mumbles. Nod, say nothing. Room dark. Collapse on bunk. Cock sticky, pulse racing. Secret burns sweet. Tomorrow, smile at her in market. No one knows. Neighborhood sleeps on.