I was born in 1805 in Coffee vile Kansas. The child of a shop keeper they tell me. I don't remember him or my mother. He died while I was young and my mother gave me to another family to raise. I was told I had a sister also but I don't remember. My new father was what they called a traveling man. He sold things, brushes, pots, pans, shoes all things people needed.
He also played cards. He was good at it too, too good. When he was home he taught me to play also and how to win. I learned how to deal cards so I did win but dad told me to watch out and never deal like that to a professional gambler. Said it was a good way to get dead. Dad didn't take his own advice and was shot in a card game in Alabama in 1818.
A month later my adopted mother married a local blacksmith. I have wondered if they had something going on before.
No matter, I decided it was time I was on my own. I hiked it east to the Mississippi and caught a ride on a barge at Natchez. In new Orleans I signed on a ship for London as cabin boy. Before we left port I found that was a job I'd not like while working in the rigging was no problem and I was soon at home there.
The captain was a Christan man though he did like his rum at times. We carried about everything but never slaves.
By 1830 I had been at sea about as long as I wanted. I has saved my money and decided to stay ashore. I bought a bar in New Orleans and sayed ashore. I spent my time around town on St Charles and Beacon streets. Playing cards, drinking and chasing the delightful girls around town.
In 1835 I met a beautiful girl that was new to town. She was working as a whore at a fancy place up town. As was common then she owed the house money. They charged her for food board laundry and had given her father quite a lot when he brought her there.
I wanted to take her out on the town and had to pay the house for all night to do that. We went to my joint and several other places, stopped and had a fine dinner. We each drank a little wine and sooner then I thought made out way to my hotel.
Let me describe myself at that time. I was 6'4" tall and had black hair and eyes. I had a beard to cover a scar on my cheek and another next to my ear both thanks to a bad loser I met in Cuba. Linda was tall also and her hair was as dark as mine. Her eyes were green and skin as white as parchment.
We had some more wine and talked. Her father was dead and her mother remarried to a Frenchman and they had 4 more kids. A flood about destroyed their farm and she was about the only asset they had to rebuild with.
We were kissing and I started to remove the clothes. Even by lamplight I could see her blush but she made no move to stop me. I had been with many women all around the world but never had feelings like I was having with this girl. It was like my heart was swelled up in my chest so it was hard get my breath. Her blush went down her neck and even her little breasts turned pink.
I started kissing her tits and worked my way down her flat little belly to her sparse black bush. She stopped me and I said please let me, I know what I'm doing. I stuck my tongue in her delightful honey pot. She soon was screaming so that I'm sure others thought I was killing her. When she was good and wet I kissed my way back up her body and eased mt shaft into her. She was so slight I was afraid I'd brake her.
She was telling me "Harder, harder" so I was slamming into her time and time again hard as I could. I came like I had not since I was a boy. I didn't last long that time or the next.
The next morning I payed for her freedom from the house and she moved in with me.
The next five years were filled with love, fighting, sex and excitement. Me moved into a set of rooms on the top (4th) floor with a balcony. We were both on the balcony drinking and fighting one night and I slapped her. She spun around and tripped. she fell the floors to the street and was killed. I ran out the back and got friends to swear I was playing cards with them at the time.
About all I can say about the next year is I was drunk. I lost the bar and was about of money when a fire at the hotel burned me to death.
That would be the end or my story except Linda and I met up again in San Pedro CA in 1968. Her name was Josephine and mine John. We were lovers from the day we met but that is another story.
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