Message-ID: <16994eli$9811061937@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/16994.txt> From: bybernadette@my-dejanews.com X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: REPOST: THE TRESURE CHEST Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <71bc5i$450$1@nnrp1.dejanews.com> THE TREASURE CHEST a short short by Bernadette (My first story) copyright 1998 ****** It was hard to find a place. Very hard. Mardi Gras. Over a million people were crammed into a district that, at most, was a few miles in diameter. At most. The day had been filled with a vast array of sensations. In the air was music, voices, laughter, horns, sirens and drums. You could smell the brisk scent of bar-be-que, pots of jambalaya and red beans, and crawfish boiling amongst a sea of spicy potatoes and corn. They danced in the street, a street filled with total strangers. People from all over the world had come together to merge, to party, to break out of the confinements of their every day social norms. The music was rock-n-roll blues. A veteran blues singer with long braided hair and one dangling earring led the crowd into a unbridled frenzy. Their moist bodies were pressed together as they moved to the sounds of the hysteria. It was raining lightly, and they were standing in a carpet of mud. They didn't care. All he cared about was the way she felt. She had a talent that was indescribable. Her hips made love to his groin in front of hundreds of revelers. He could feel the warmth of her Louisiana peach through the rain soaked denim jeans. It was like homemade pie. Later, she fed him king cake. Piece by piece - from her own hands into his mouth. The pastry dripped of apples and cream cheese. It tasted of sugar and forbidden fruit. The luscious filling oozed down the side of his lips - she slowly licked it off with her tender, soft tongue as it dribbled down his chin. It was smooth, creamy and excitingly rich like an female orgasm in his mouth. Earlier, at the parade, she had smiled and flirted her way to dozens of bright plastic treasures. Never did she reveal any flesh for the goods - her glowing, seductive face was enough. She placed the strands of glistening beads around her neck, one by one, as she caught them. It was like a sacred ritual. He began to envy those plastic beads. They were clinging to her firm breasts like skin. When she walked, they would lightly pound her chest as though they were making love to her. He couldn't help but wonder if her large nipples were erect due to the weight of the beads. So many beads. The women around them were opening their shirts and showing their goods. He found it amusing, but after a while, there was only one pair of female breasts he wanted to see, feel, touch, take in his mouth. In the middle of the parade, he was wondering if hers were as brown as her lightly tanned skin. Through her shirt, he eyed the roundness and ripeness like an exotic cantaloupe. His mouth instinctively watered. That night, they ventured into the French Quarter. It was a vast sea of human bodies, overwhelming, almost frightening. He had never experienced such an overt display of sex, lust and drunken revelry as this. To his surprise, it excited him and made parts of his anatomy tingle with anticipation. It was time to find the place. She knew what to do without him saying a word. As though she read his mind, she took him by the hand and led him down a long, dark alley. It was very narrow and made of old, moss-covered Spanish brick. The mere history hidden behind those walls began to seduce him. Had others, in centuries past, snuck down this very alley with the same purpose? There was a small enclave at the end of the alley. Right over the wall they could hear voices, lots of laughter and music. They were only a foot away from the others. Only a wall between them. But the noise was loud enough to mask any noise of their own. She began to kiss him. Her mouth still tasted faintly of the delicacy they had eaten over an hour ago. Her lips were as light as a billowy cloud. Heavenly. He had never been kissed like that before. Ever. It was pure voo doo magic. Her provocative kisses alone triggered and teased the light twitching he could feel between his legs. He had to have more. He began to barely kiss her neck. His tongue flickered inside of her ear. Now she was breathing heavy, but made no overt sound. He began to bury his face beneath the beads, but it was impossible to get past them. He noticed her hand was stroking the ever growing bulge beneath his jeans. Somehow, he managed to undo the buttons of her cotton blouse. It fell open like a gate with no hinges. There it was. The treasure chest. Her breasts, still covered with the false jewels, were exposed in the cool, night air for him to see. They were a beautiful work of art --nipples the color of almonds. He gently placed his hands on them. No doubt, they were real. Very real. He took his tongue and circled as it grew hard in his mouth. She hastily unzipped his jeans. The touch of her hands on his beckoning penis were more than he could bare. Her fingers were extremely warm, although the weather was quite cold. She softly stroked his sensitive balls as though they were the most valuable possession on earth. He liked the way she made him feel. Hungry and wild. In minutes, her panties were down, just enough to barely see the outline of her smooth, shapely thighs in the moonlight. He finally did what he had been waiting for - he touched the peach, now ripe and ready to be sucked and eaten. Never in his lifetime, had he felt anything so smooth, so moist and so sensual. His hand slid with such ease, he wondered if she had been built just for him. She was so very wet - her juices were slowly dripping down her pleasingly plump thighs. He wanted to lick it away like she had done to the creamy filling from his face hours earlier. She began to softly whimper as he found the spot. Once again, he thought of an almond. Tiny and hard. He stroked just enough, but not too much. He knew. He could tell by the way her body was writhing that she wouldn't hold out much longer. It was time. Both standing, against a brick wall, in a dark French Quarter alley, he entered inside her like a burst of unleashed sexual power. The beads were clanking between them as he pounded her into a thunder. As he moved in and out of her, the sound of jazz music floated from beyond the mossy walls. It was like a steamy scene from a foreign film. One he would never forget. She grabbed and kissed him hard on the mouth right before they both came together. Their secretions were splattered all over both their bodies, like a small explosion had erupted between them. As so, they stood in the Louisiana rain until they were washed clean. Mardi Gras. -----------== Posted via Deja News, The Discussion Network ==---------- http://www.dejanews.com/ Search, Read, Discuss, or Start Your Own -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>