A Story of New Orleans

The day was hot and sultry, as it usually is in New Orleans this time of year.

She stands, leaning over the balcony of her French Quarter apartment that overlooks just one of the many popular streets that draws so many tourists this time of the year. It's Mardi Gras, and the crowds are gathering for the final celebrations, the party of all parties... the wild, dizzying, madness that overtakes all.

She watches the sun sink into the sky, knowing that tonight she will also get caught up in the madness. Sweat trickles a path down her neck between her breasts. Lost in thought, her fingers trace the path to follow the moisture. She watches the passersby, smiling at the unsuspecting tourist, knowing that most have no idea what the night brings.

She turns and enters the apartment, goes to the mirror, and checks one last time, making sure everything is in place. She is wearing a dress with thin straps. It's a deep shade of green; it fits her well. You can make out the shape of her full breasts through the fabric, and the heat makes it cling to her even more. Her dark hair is long and flows down her back; her skin dark from her Cajun heritage; her eyes, a vivid green -- witch eyes, as the bayou people call them. Her lips are full and pouting. She is ready for the night. She leaves the apartment for the streets.

She travels the streets, milling through the throng of bodies pressed together -- everyone having fun, laughing, yelling, singing in the streets -- some dressed, some, only partially. Nothing is taboo in the quarter on this night. She is caught up in it all... in the thrill... dancing with strangers, toasting a drink here, sharing a laugh there. Moving through the streets, she feels a sudden prickling at the base of her neck. She feels eyes on her, though she looks around and sees nothing unusual... but someone watches her, she is sure of this. She moves on, stopping to play here and there. Suddenly bounced around by an over exuberant bunch of college boys, she is thrown off balance, and lands in the arms of a stranger. As her eyes travel up to thank him for catching her, she gasps. He is the most intensely beautiful man she has ever seen -- long black hair, tanned skin, intense dark blue eyes. She thanks him, and wriggles free of him before he can respond. She turns, and slips into the crowd.

One of the subcultures of new Orleans is the voodoo culture. She knows that tonight is a big celebration ritual of fertility, for that is what Mardi Gras is all about... fertility of the crops. She goes around a corner, heading to a back road that she knows. Up ahead is the old townhouse, with the big wrought-iron gates. She can hear the drum beat beating a rhythm. Already she is late. She rushes toward the gate and enters, closing it behind her. She goes around the courtyard towards the back of the house where the crowd has gathered. There is a circle of bodies, a fire in the center, and people dancing -- bodies writhing to the beat.

She moves closer, watching... mesmerized. She can feel the beat all through her body. Her blood warms, pumping faster and faster through her veins. Her body starts to sway to the beat. She sees familiar faces all around her, these are her friends; they accept her here. Partners are joining in the center, dancing a sensuous dance. She feels excited. Her blood is hot now -- she runs her hands up her body cupping her breasts -- now running them down, along her waistline, across her hips. Suddenly, she feels hands grab her and pull her out into the crowd of dancers. She is pulled close to a body. She doesn't care who it is, she gives in to the rhythm, closing her eyes, and throwing her head back. She feels her body move with his, their hips touching occasionally, his hands running along her body. The tempo increases to a frenzy. Her feet move her in the steps that she knows so well. Their bodies touch... so close... so hot... it almost burns. She finally looks up -- her partner is the stranger from the street. She is shocked. These rituals are always closed to strangers. She knows all who come here, but she doesn't know him. Who is he? The dancing continues, but as their eyes meet, he takes her by the arm and pulls her away from the crowd towards the house, where around a corner, a pair of French doors stands open to the evening air.

He moves into the room, closing the doors behind him. It is dark and humid. He turns and moves toward her. Reaching up, he takes her face in his hands, and pulls her close to him. She turns her face up to his, letting her lips open, as his mouth comes down hard against them. His tongue darts inside her mouth to twist around her own. Her hands slowly come up to his neck, pulling him even closer, sticking her tongue deeper into his mouth. Her fingers slide down, to slowly start to unbutton his shirt... one button, two buttons, as her mouth starts to circle his lips, breathing hot breath on his lips. She whispers sweet, French love words to him. Her hands move down the buttons rapidly now, as his hands roam over her body, feeling her full breasts. His hands pull the straps of her dress off her shoulders, as his fingers slide inside her top to pull the material away from her breasts.

The dress slides down to the floor and she stands nude. She slides his shirt from his shoulders, while his hands find and caress her breasts, his thumbs flicking her nipples erect. Rolling them between his fingers, he bends his head to take one in his mouth, his tongue flicking the nipple, gently sucking it into his mouth. She feels tingles down into her pussy. His mouth moves to the other breast... tasting her, running his tongue around the nipple. She slowly kneels in front of him, running her fingers down through the dark hair on his chest, sliding her finger down towards his buckle. Her fingers find and unbuckle his pants. Slipping her fingers inside the waistband, she pulls them down his legs, and he steps out of them.

He is erect, and so hard. Her hands reach out to touch him -- one hand sliding in between his legs to gently caress his balls, the other taking his cock and gently stroking it, feeling it throb. There is a tiny drop of pre-cum on the tip. She sticks her tongue out to gently lick it off. He moans in pleasure. As her eyes move up to his, her mouth opens and she brings his cock close to her lips. Sticking her tongue out, she runs it around the head before slow closing her mouth around his cock, letting it slide through her mouth and down her throat. Feeling his hands in her hair, she begins a steady rhythm of sucking -- one hand circling the base of his cock, the other gently cupping his balls, the fingers gently stroking the underside. She loves the taste of him, it makes her blood pump even faster, hotter, making her juices start to flow.

Looking up to his face, she sees his eyes burning into hers. Keeping her eyes on his, she releases his cock, giving it one last sensuous lick, running her tongue up across the vein that runs up the middle. She stands, and steps back to lean against the wall. There is a chair close by. She lifts her leg, and sets her tiny foot on the chair, opening her legs for his view. Her hands start to move along her body, one hand circling a breast, the other, sliding down towards her moist pussy. He watches as her fingers slide in-between the lips -- opening them, her finger, circling her clit. Her other hand reaches for him, beckoning him to her.

He comes to her, his eyes dark with passion. He takes her hand and guides it to his cock, circling her fingers around it and making her know that is where it should stay.

His other hand takes her hand from her pussy, and brings her fingers up to his mouth. He sticks his tongue out to lick her fingers, sucking each one into his mouth. Lowering his head, his tongue reaches out to lick her nipple, gently biting. He slides down, caressing her body with his hands, until they come to rest on her pussy -- clean shaven and soft. His fingers open her, so he can see her clit jutting out. He licks it slowly, loving the feel of it on his tongue. Hearing her moan, he sucks her clit into his mouth, sucking gently, rubbing it with his tongue. His finger slides to her opening; he sticks one finger in, feeling her wetness. Her hips thrust out to meet his finger, grinding her pussy into his mouth. They are on fire. He stands and lifting her leg even higher, brings his cock to rub against her pussy. His hand guides it, rubbing the tip against her clit. Then slowly, he pushes his cock inside her, slowly at first -- just the head -- teasing her, then bringing it back out, rubbing her clit again, then in to her pussy again. This time he enters her hard, making her gasp with the force of it.

She can't move. Her body is pinned between him and the wall. She feels him deep inside her, throbbing. He waits, watching her. His hand reaches for her hair, and pulls it back, so she is forced to look in his eyes. He moves his hips, and she feels his cock sliding in and out of her. She wraps her leg around him, her hands moving around his waist, grabbing his hips. He fucks her hard, ramming his cock so deeply into her, lifting her off the floor. Their bodies sweating, he leans into her, pressing her even more, bringing his lips close to hers, his hips ramming hers. He whispers to her, "Kiss me!"

Their mouths come together. Their tongues licking, tasting, sucking each other. He feels his cock harden even more... throbbing, ready to cum inside her. She feels her pussy juices dripping down his cock. Her clit is throbbing, her pussy is milking his cock with its convulsions. She is going to cum.

They cum, together -- mouths locked, hips grinding, bodies slick with sweat.

It is midnight. Mardi Gras has ended. She walks the streets to her home, passing other revelers making their way back to their homes or cars. The streets are silent now. The street cleaners are out, cleaning away all signs of this year's celebration. She will remember this night. She still does not know who he is, only that he was welcomed by the voodoo priestess to her gathering. She knows they will meet again. She continues on her way, listening to the sounds of the Vieux Carre'.