Savannah
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Savannah 01 free porn video
This is the first part of a long story hence, its publication in the Novels and Novellas section of Lit.
I hope to publish a new part every three weeks or so and I look forward to hearing from anyone that reads it.
Eighteen fifty seven had not been a good year for Missus Amanda Williams.
In February, her husband Samuel had left her. Not just left her for another woman, but of all people, an actress of twenty something. Whilst losing her husband was hard to take, for a woman rapidly approaching forty, the fact that he opted for a young thing was devastating to her.
Then in July, her father had died from a massive heart attack. Being in London when that happened, it was impossible to get home to the family plantation Selby Bluff in Meldrim near Savannah, Georgia for the funeral. Now, though, two months later, after settling her affairs in London, she was about to set sail from Bristol in the West of England to Norfolk, Virginia.
Amanda and her father George had never been close, in fact since she was in her teens they had only seen each other a few times. Her mother had been the family, her father was the plantation. He ran it well with a military-like precision and efficiency, which ensured that it made loads of money and was one of the most successful in the Savannah area.
Whilst the slaves were, of course, treated very strictly, ‘as you had to otherwise they would be lazy,’ they were certainly better off at Selby Bluff Plantation than many others in Georgia. George La Salle recognised that even slaves responded to fair treatment and that it was in his and the plantation’s interest for them to be well motivated. He achieved that, and thus greater productivity than most plantations, by finding a good balance between fair treatment and strict sometimes harsh physical discipline.
Despite having been brought up surrounded by slaves, Amanda found the whole slavery ownership of human beings hard to take or accept.
It was her mother, Florence, who had been the driving influence in Amanda’s life. A Yankee from Boston, she was well educated and well read. Why on earth she had moved from the sophistication of Massachusetts to the cultural wastelands of Georgia was a question that always fascinated Amanda, but had remained unanswered right up until her mother’s death a few years ago.
She had ensured that both Amanda and her year younger brother, Adam, had received excellent educations, something that her father felt was a waste of time, particularly for women.
Whereas her brother went to Harvard, Amanda never did get to university, or to the finishing school in Europe that Florence had intended. On a weekend trip to New York from Boston where she had been visiting Adam when she was twenty-three, she met Samuel Williams. Amongst other things, he was a professional gambler and simply swept her off her feet. The next weekend he took the train to Boston and not only captivated her again, he swept her into his bed at the original hotel in Copley Place, The Belvedere.
Pregnant, she married him a month later at a dazzling wedding in Manhattan, paid for by Samuel. Her father and most of her family apart from Florence and Adam refused to attend. Losing the baby after a few months and being unable to have further children was a heartache Amanda constantly struggled to come to terms with.
Unlike most gamblers, Samuel was shrewd. Every time he won, he gave a quarter of his winnings to Amanda and invested another quarter in longer-term, difficult-to-sell investments. One of these was in a theatrical company owned by a descendant of David Garrick, a massive name in the American and English theatres. That investment grew rapidly and provided Samuel and Amanda with a steady income from both the New York and, particularly, the London businesses.
‘Let’s go and live in London, Mandy,’ Samuel said one night as they lay in bed, still sweaty and panting from their lovemaking, which as usual had been spectacular.
They talked about it for some time, with Amanda becoming increasingly more excited at, and interested in, the idea of living in the greatest city in the world, at that time, Queen Victoria’s London.
Whilst Samuel’s gambling increased in London, where big poker games, roulette and Chemin De Fer were all the rage, his main occupation gradually became a theatrical impresario. He loved setting up the plays and music halls, negotiating the deals, motivating writers and, as Amanda found out later, fucking the young actresses.
London had been fantastic. Samuel had been fabulously successful as a theatrical producer and latterly as a theatre owner. That had opened doors to so many circles that their five years in England was a whirl of social engagements which reached right up to the level of the Prince of Wales, Queen Victoria’s eldest son.
They lived in a mansion near to Piccadilly and had an estate in the country in Berkshire, not far from Windsor Castle where the royal family spent much of their time. They travelled frequently visiting the major cities in Europe, even going as far as to sailing down the Nile in Egypt.
In many ways it was an ideal life.
They were rich and successful and both had interesting work. Amanda had used some of the gambling money from Samuel to open a publishing company and as a hobby had started writing books, under a nom de plume of course. Her description of her writing as ‘Jane Austen with red blood’ meant that under no circumstances could they be associated with her!
That was her secret occupation, even from Samuel. The string of houses of ill repute he owned were his secret from Amanda. As time went on, the brothels became not just a business for him, but also a hobby.
It had taken Amanda, and Samuel come to that, to understand and adapt to the ‘standards’ of Victorian England. In America such aspects of life as etiquette, dress codes, manner, behaviour and morals were clearer and more straightforward than they were in Britain where everything appeared to one thing, but turned out to be something else. For some reason, probably the personality of the thirty eight year old Queen Victoria, social and family life was conducted with such a degree of prudishness that on the surface everything appeared to be of very highly morale values. But scratch that surface and all manner of double standards with pornography, prostitution, opium smoking, mistresses and lovers, kept women and gargoyles quickly emerged. In many ways this suited the liberal, easy going relaxed thinking and loose standards that Samuel, particularly and Amanda to a lesser, but nevertheless meaningful degree held.
They were both fairly heavily involved in charity work, having befriended the Earl of Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley-Cooper, who was the leading philanthropist of the time. Amanda worked closely with him and Florence Nightingale, a nurse who Anthony supported. Samuel had a great interest in boxing and worked closely with the father of John Chambers who went on to develop the Queensberry rules.
Overall it was a very heady time. But as Amanda came to learn, nothing is perfect, no couple’s life is ideal, and there are always problems of one sort or the other either existing or just round the corner.
London in mid-Victorian times was similar to the revolution in the nineteen sixties, it was ‘swinging London,’ but without the Beatles. With their various interests, Samuel and Amanda were right at the heart of the swinging scene. As usual with most ‘swinging scenes,’ sex featured strongly and Victorian London was awash with the desires of the flesh.
Infidelity was rife among the upper classes, generally and, particularly, within the ‘arty’ set that Samuel and Amanda frequented.
Most men had mistresses and many ‘highly respectable’ women found nothing immoral in having a lover. The difference between the genders was that men tended to have a series of mistresses, sometimes
several at the same time whilst ‘respectable’ women generally had one lover, preferably lasting some time. The established pattern worked well, though naturally it was never discussed, apart from between very close friends.
The whole rather sordid way of life was ‘brushed under the carpet.’ Pornography was rife and on the increase, with brothels and streetwalkers seemingly everywhere. Not much different to later years, really.
Samuel had always been a ladies’ man. The tall, slim and muscular long, dark haired man had a highly fashionable, heavy black moustache tinged with grey. His piercing blue eyes seemed to permanently sparkle and, when looking at ladies, appeared to have x-ray abilities that seemed to send his gaze right through their clothing. For the first few years of their marriage, Amanda had believed his flirting was just his way.
But slowly, it dawned on her that it was more than that.
She never, of course, confronted him with her suspicions, but as time went on and their position in London became more deeply involved with the liberal life-style of theatre folk, her reservations turned into convictions.
It hurt at first. She found it demeaning, annoying and frustrating to wonder who, sitting around her table at a dinner party for instance, was being shagged by her husband, or which one of this week’s cast was he putting up in a hotel away from the rest so he could pop round for ‘afternoon matinees.’
After a period of heartache, she gradually came to accept that was just how things were in upper class London. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, she eventually decided, responding to his infidelity by taking her own lover or, more accurately, lovers.
After several meaningless, but nevertheless sexually satisfying flings, Amanda settled down with her long-term lover, Sir Bernard d’Argent. Into his fifties, the grey haired man was a scholar, being very versed in early psychology and as a playwright and author. Amanda thought he was the most intelligent man she had ever met, and a good mind had always been far more likely to get her juices flowing than mere good looks.
After meeting him at the premiere of a play produced by Samuel, his intellect took just a few weeks not only to get inside her bloomers, but to get them, together with every other piece of her clothing onto the floor of his London apartment in Dover Street.
Amanda had been careful, shrewd and, to an extent, lucky with the investments she had made with her share of Samuel’s gambling winnings. She had acquired a considerable amount of jewellery, mainly gold and diamonds, invested in two railway companies in America, had bought land in the ‘new world’ of California and had earned interest from banks in both England and America on the cash deposited with them.
When their relationship came to its inevitable end, Samuel was generous with his settlement, including the estate in Datchet and the house in Piccadilly with an annual allowance of several thousand pounds. After her father’s death and her decision to return home, it came as a huge surprise to Amanda, after finalising her affairs in London, to find just how wealthy she was.
She didn’t really want to go back to the Deep South, but reluctantly felt she had no choice. Her brother, Adam was a dreamer, an artist a thinker. He wasn’t a doer and he certainly could not run the plantation, well not by himself. She agreed to come home and run it with him until they could find a buyer, or until they decided what alternative courses of action were open to them.
***
It was seven months since Amanda had had sex and she was suffering! Since losing her virginity at eighteen, she had not gone that long without it, but with Bernard on a visit to India, she had little opportunity, despite a few of her husband’s friends ‘offering their services.’
Although believing that having a lover was acceptable, Amanda, like many other London women in similar situations to her, could not countenance sleeping around or promiscuity. So in the months leading up to her return home, she was reluctantly forced into celibacy.
That changed on the voyage from Bristol to Norfolk. She had not meant to have sex with Jarvis, though was fully aware that men like the Captain regularly had such liaisons as they crossed the Atlantic. She was under no misapprehensions at all what this was about – a shipboard romance, a sexual fling for both of them that would end when they reached America.
The feeling as his cock slid into her was amazing. It was like finding sex for the first time. She had forgotten just how wonderful a sensation it was to have a man push himself deeply inside her, filling her, seemingly consuming her and, yes, stuffing her to overflowing.
Amanda had hoped to sail home on one of the newer, steam powered ships, but cost constraints by the shipping lines meant that New York was currently their only destination. She had asked around in London and had been advised not to take a cabin on one of the returning cotton ships for they were slow, had inferior quarters and often unruly and vulgar crews. That would never do!
Instead, she booked a passage on one of the lighter, faster clippers that primarily transported tobacco into Bristol and light machinery, clothing and other goods back to Norfolk. The Western Spirit carried a maximum of ten passengers, but only five were on this trip. With Amanda were Mr and Mrs Stevensen, an elderly couple visiting their daughter in Baltimore, and Sir and Lady Barton, a middle aged couple who were moving to Washington as part of England’s diplomatic team.
Amanda had booked the premier cabin located in the stern of the ship. It had its own small balcony and was located near to the Captain’s cabin, with only the dining room between the two. Both cabins had doors leading into the well-appointed dining room, where the five passengers dined most evenings in the company of the Captain and his three officers who shared the three eight hour shifts.
Richard Jarvis was a career ship’s captain. He had served in the Royal Navy for ten years before receiving an inheritance, most of which he invested in the Western Spirit. Being not just the captain, but also part owner, gave him the freedom he craved. A bachelor from Bath, he had an eye for the ladies and he had perfected the art of seduction on many of his journeys. Sometimes with a daughter of a passenger, occasionally with a wife and, rarer, with a woman travelling alone.
Amanda was a perfect target.
His hopes had been raised when he had checked the manifest and passenger list after the ship had been unloaded following its arrival from Norfolk. The recent advances in the dockside materials handling equipment had speeded up the loading and unloading, and now the Spirit could be turned round in ten days. This enabled Richard to travel up to London for business meetings and to see his mistress there, the wife of one of his business partners.
It also provided him with the time to oversee the loading and any repairs and to see his lady friend, his betrothed, in Bristol.
Greeting the guests as they boarded the ship, Captain Jarvis felt the familiar fire in his loins when he saw Amanda. Probably in her late thirties, he guessed, she was a typical ‘Southern belle’. He admired her pale skin, her lustrous, long, wavy, chestnut coloured hair, but most of all, her wonderful curves. Accentuated by her corset, her narrow waist, delightfully flared hips and deliciously full bust were enough to inflame any red-blooded male.
As a footman helped Amanda down from the carriage she had taken from the railway station, Jarvis admired the fashionably low-cut, heavily patterned dress that seemed to gape away her from as she leaned forward descending from the carriage. He loved the warm days that brought out such clothing. The fashionable, very London cut of the dress drew his gaze, along with that of every other man on the deck
, to her spectacular breasts.
There and then, he vowed that he would be sucking them before the estimated seven-week journey to America was completed.
As it turned out, it took him less than two weeks.
As most attractive, especially heavily breasted women do, Amanda had felt his attraction to her as they shook hands and he accompanied her onto his ship. The sparkle in his eye was similar to her estranged husband, and she felt comfortable with him as he showed her to her quarters. The cabin had a small sitting room, a bedroom with a dressing room off to one side and doors leading to the balcony, looking out from the stern of the ship, and to the dining room. It had been worth paying the extra for the grandest, most luxurious and private accommodation on the ship.
During the first week at sea, the two other officers alternated dining or lunching with the passengers, but the Captain hosted each meal. That wasn’t his normal practice, but how else was Richard Jarvis to get to know Mrs Williams as quickly as he needed to? His plan worked well.
She sat on his left during the first week, with the captain paying her that extra amount of special attention without ignoring the other passengers. Amanda was flattered at his attention, which gradually became more flirtatious, albeit highly discrete, as they got to know each other. She began to realise that it was probably only a matter of time and as he became more forthright and forward in the second week, she made sure he realised she was interested.
She did that in the practised way she had learned in London society, in the way that only women who are confident of their sexual attraction can do.
It was not very long before he invited her to join him for an after dinner drink in his Captain’s night cabin when the other passengers had retired: discretion and good standards had to be maintained of course! Two days after their first drink in his cabin,, he kissed her. At first it was gentle and respectful on her cheek accompanied by a ‘Good night Missus Williams.’
Within a couple of days, however, it was powerful and suggestive right on her mouth, as he said, ‘I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw you alighting from your carriage, Amanda.’ She had no hesitation in responding.
As they kissed, they both knew it was just a matter of time before they made love. What they did not know as he squeezed her breast, was that it would be as soon as the following day.
Mr and Mrs Barton hadn’t joined them for dinner as she was slightly unwell, and Sir and Lady Stevensen, as usual, retired early. Amanda and Richard stood on the balcony sipping wine as he smoked a pipe. Their location was completely isolated, they were alone, no one could see them, for the dining room door was locked.
Perfect for the seduction he had in mind! He kissed her and she responded.
The sexual frustrations Amanda had felt for several months had become more extreme since she had been on the ship. Even her daily masturbation sessions had not provided the real relief she needed. Only a man’s cock could do that.
In a desperate attempt to assuage her need, she’d one time bravely risked having sex with herself on her secluded balcony. She had only once before been naked in the open air and the feel of the sea air on her bare body was fantastic. Her resultant self-induced orgasm was wonderful, and a second had quickly followed. That was the moment she knew she had to have Captain Richard Jarvis’s cock inside her.
Even as she recalled that moment, Richard’s hand found her breast and squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure. It sent a shudder through her, bringing a little groan of pent up arousal from her mouth.
Richard smiled to himself. He recognised the signs of her excitement and frustration, but then he always did. He was used to fucking middle-aged women who had been starved of sex and invariably they reacted in the same way.
Kaidence
- 23.05.2020
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