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Susan had never been to New Orleans before, let alone for Mardi Gras. But she and Don had booked this trip months in advance, reserving a suite in the graceful old Maison d l'Ouest hotel and planning all the events like the proverbial tourists. Now it was early evening, the french doors to the balcony open , letting in the soft night breezes and the sounds of festivity as Susan bent over the bed, emptying the suitcase and packing the clothes away. They were here for five days and she intended to wring every minute out of their time.

The sound of the shower shut off in the bathroom as she slipped into a fresh white blouse and a long, light cotton skirt, leaving her legs bare. She danced around the room , twirling and scrunching her toes into the plush carpet , before moving to the open doors and looking out on the last of the sun setting over the rooftops and the bright lights coming up from the street. As she stood there she heard the bathroom door open so she turned around, smiling at Don as he came into the room. Her smile turned to a frown, as she watched him walk to the bed and sit heavily on the edge, holding his head in his hands.

"What's the matter honey" she said as she went over and knelt beside him.

"I still can't shake this headache, I thought a shower would make me feel more awake but I still feel awful".

"Look, we've got five days, why don't you take some aspirin, lay back in bed, and get some sleep."

"But we've just get here and I wanted this trip to be perfect."

"Nonsense, it will be perfect, you just need to sleep this headache off and then you'll see."

Susan pulled the bed covers down, slipped Don's towel off, and got him tucked into bed, turning the lamps down. She went into the bathroom to get aspirin, but when she came back Don was already asleep. She smiled fondly at him, smoothing the hair back from his forehead, and put the aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table. She then grabbed a novel from her pack and sat down in an armchair to read, but the sound of revelry from the open doors kept her distracted. After a time she closed the book and went to the doors to look down. She watched the swirl of people below, the colored lights twinkling and flashing, the music hitting a rythm in her body. Abruptly she came to a decision, closing the doors, and grabbing her purse. Then she remembered the consierge's warning, and took some money, tucking it deeply into a pocket of her skirt, left her purse, taking her key, slipped on some flats and hastly scribbled Don a note, saying she was going out for an hour to look around. Then ,excitement coursing through her, she went out, downstairs, through the lobby and straight into the embracing crush of the crowds.

Susan had never experienced anything like it, the shear volume of sound, the maddening swirl of people, smiling , laughing, dancing , the streets all but impassable. The eye was assaulted with colors and costumes, the ears with music, the nose with the unique scents of New Orleans at Mardi Gras a blend of tropical warmth, spicy foods, and heated, scented bodies. Strangers appeared out of the crush, hugging her, or kissing her, before being just as quickly carried off. Laughter ,tinkling or raunchy rang from all corners. She felt excited, and naughty, as if she was a little girl doing something she wasn't supposed to .

She was amazed by the baring of breasts and shook her head, smiling,as she was offered beads to perform the same stunt. There was no offence given , just a shrug, and a laugh and off to find a more willing participant. She laughed along with the crowd , danced with some, and became thoroughly lost in the space of fifteen minutes.

Sudddenly she could hear an increase in sound from off to her right, and the crowd surged in that direction. She was carried along like a leaf in a stream , uncaring, going where the crowd would. She stopped down a dim side street, which ended on a major thoroughfare, along which a parade was passing. Huge floats seemed to glide above the crowds' heads, glittering and sparkling in the light, all lit about with barely clad bodies that blew kisses and threw plastic tokens to the crowd. Susan was well back in the alley, and could only see the lower parts of the parade by standing on tiptoe and peering over her neighbours. She was so hemmed in by people she couldn't even swivel her shoulders to the side and was caught by a momentary feeling of claustrophobia. This passed as she was carried off in the excitement of the moment, by the laughing people, and the beauty and lunacy of the passing parade.

Through the crush of people she slowly became aware of a more pressing issue against her backside. Someone was firmly pressing their crotch against her, and by the shape it was definetly male. Embarassed, she shifted her hips away, only to push against the man in front. He looked over his shoulder at her, smiling and winking, which only increased her embarassement. She shook her head and he turned back to the parade. She had no choice but to relax, and this put her back in contact with the figure behind her. He was still there, but made no overt move or signal, just the steady insistent pressure. Susan realized that he probably had no choice, the closeness of bodies was impossible to move without some intimate contact. Slowly she relaxed and a curiousity stole over her. Was he fat or short, thin and tall? The crowd moved and she moved with it. Steadily, she realized the pressure had pushed the soft cotton of her skirt into the crack of her behind and her movement was causing her to gently massage him. She now felt an obvious erection pressed against her. The thought made her face color, but also a sudden and unexpected shortness of breath and a quickening of her heart. She felt guilty, but was also aware, until the crowd diminished , there was little she could do. This realization increased her boldness, and she ever so gently pushed her hips back, just to see what would happen. Almost immediately a hand came around her right side, pinning her arm there, and cupped her breast. She gasped outloud at the sudden intrusion and looked down, In the dim light she could see a rough hand, warm and firm holding the weight of her breast and the thumb circling her nipple through the fabric of her blouse. Her left hand came up from her side to remove the intruder, but instead, incredibly, she entwined her fingers within his. The fingers squeezed hers and the thumb never stopped it's steady circling. Susan couldn't believe this. Don had been the only person in her life to touch her so and here was a man, a man she couldn't even see, performing such a gentle caress. She felt weak-kneed, and short of breath, and her stomach was trembling gently. She held his hand to her breast and closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward and feeling her hair brush their joined hands. The noise of the crowd and sound of the parade dimmed and she concentrated on this one source of pleasure, coursing through her body in spikes and tingles.

She could have stayed that way forever if she hadn't felt his other hand carressing her left hip. Her eyes flew open and the ridiculousness of her position struck her. She was about to turn around when the hand slid down to the edge of her skirt and touched her bare leg. The fingers were warm and dry, and send a shock straight up her spine. Despite herself she stayed as she was as she felt the material of her skirt being bunched up at the back, the hand working slowly higher, now on the back of her knee, the warm flesh of her inner thigh, moving in slow circles, mirroring the thumb at her nipple. Susan looked around to see if any one was watching this intrusion, but the crowd seemed oblivious, focused on the spectacle ahead.

She sighed as the hand finally reached the leg band of her underwear. She slowly slid her left leg across the pavement as far as she could, and then her right, until she was bumped up against her neighbours. A finger hooked itself around the waist band of her underwear and teased it down her left hip. Again confusion reigned in Susan's mind, but she did nothing as her underwear slowly slid down, stopping just under her ass. The left hand slid between her legs, stretching the elastic of her panties, and finally touching her. She gasped and started trembling as the experienced fingers gently drew through the folds of her lips, spreading and caressing her, opening her to the cooling night air. His right hand, patiently circling, left her breast and, slipping under her skirt from the front, joined it's partner, caressing, tugging, maddeningly slippery. Her breath came in short gasps now. Her freed right hand slid behind her. He eased his hips back to accomodate her as she grasped his zipper and slowly drew it down. Her hand slid into the gap and eased his penis out into the night air. She put her hand around him, slowly carressing the length of him. He felt heavy and hot in her hand, and her movements made him twitch. She tugged at him, pulling him towards her. She bent forward as much as she could as she felt him crouch slightly and move forward. Looking down, she could see the bump of his knees distort the cotton of her skirt between her legs. She slid her hand under the front of her skirt as she felt his prick slide against the bottom of her ass. Grasping him with her hand she gently rubbed the head of his penis with her thumb, as he opened her lips with his hands. She settled her hips slightly and felt him touch the entrance of her. They both waited, her contemplating an act she would never have considered half an hour before. Then, with a deep breath, she gently circled her hips and, with her fingers still in place felt his head distort and enter her waiting vagina. She ran a fingernail up his shaft, so dry and firm until she reached the point where her willing flesh clung to him. His hands were still for the moment. She encircled his prick with her thumb and forefinger and gently circled her hips again, slowly drawing him into her, her hand measuring the progress as if to confirm the presence of this strange intruder, until she was forced to withdraw and could feel the rough scratch of his zipper against her ass. Her hand returned as she slowly went up on her toes, but this time his shaft was slick and her lips clung tightly to him as if reluctant to let him go. She let him slide out until she could feel the outline of his head within her. Then she braced her hands against her upper thighs and held herself still as he came slowly alive and began to piston himself into her. The angle of his entrance was one she had never experienced and the rush of his prick against the roof of her vagina was making her faint with desire. She was now oblivious to her surroundings as she closed her eyes and experienced the deliciousness of his assualt. Experienced, yes, and part of her knew he had probably done this same thing many times before, but she was all focused on that thick shaft sliding in and out of her under her skirt. Abruptly, suddenly she came , in great sobbing gasps, her own thoughts driving her over the edge.

As she slowly came down, she felt him abruptly stop, buried deep within her, and she felt him twitching within her. The knowledge brought a sudden burst of desire and she forced herself up and down him, rubbing roughly against his zipper and his hair curling from within, until she came again. Gasping she crouched and felt him withdraw. Her legs were trembling all over from sheer effort, she was winded and wanted nothing better than to lay down. But she also felt glorious. They had finished none too soon as the parade had finally passed and the crowd was starting to disperse somewhat. She straightened, her back aching, tugging up her underwear and whirled to scan the crowd. Nothing. She could see no one looking at her, no knowing looks. She scanned the likely men, but had no idea. She brushed her skirt down, still feeling the warmth, but could not find her mysterious lover as she looked all around. She was not sure if she was disappointed or not. She wanted to find the hotel, crawl in with Don, and sleep, sleep, sleep these feelings away.

Copyright, 1995 - 2006 by Cindy. Not to be used without express permission.