The smell of the magnolia's and honeysuckle hung heavy in the air. She stood by the big window in her bedroom and listened to the sounds of the night. The crickets, as usual, lead the chorus of night sounds. Frogs could be heard down by the bayou waters' edge. The moss hanging from the trees made their soft shadows on the ground, with the help of a full moon.
The thin, silk gown she wore did little to hide the body beneath it. Her breasts, slowly rising and falling with her breathing, were full and ripe. The tiny nipples that crowned them were shocking pink in contrast to her dark skin. Her flat stomach, well muscled from years of living a country life, was firm, but still one that a man could lavish his tongue on. This gave way to a trimmed delta of dark hair that rested between her well-toned legs. All in all, she was a woman that any man could lose his soul to with just the wink of an eye.
Her name was Marie, and no man save one, would or could, know the pleasure that she could give. Her lush red lips longed for only one man. And that man was someone she had known, as only a woman could know a man, but once. Not overly tall or perfectly built, someone that most women wouldn't look at twice. But on that summer night, Marie had more than looked. Since then she had a burning desire deep within her, and a terrible tightness in her belly when she thought of him.
It was a hot night in Algiers, across the river from New Orleans, when she had gone to a small bar, one that only the locals went to. As usual the place was crowded; filled with the smell of cigarettes, loud music, and sweaty people looking to find someone for the night. A woman like Marie was every man's goal. To watch her on the dance floor, the rhythmic way she moved her body, told of a night of loving that every man there wanted. Eyes were always on her hips or her breasts, and they all wanted to have their hands on either one. They all knew it would never happen, for every night she left alone. This night was the exception.
He stood at the bar, looking out of place. He didn't belong with the crowd of fishermen, trappers, and oilers. When she caught his eye, she moved towards him slowly, like a jungle cat on the prowl. He asked her if she'd like a drink. She turned it down but said she'd love to dance with him. Together they moved to the dance floor, with the eyes of some very envious men following them. The music was slow, with an erotic beat. On the floor they melted together, like they had danced this way for ages. Her breasts, rubbing against his chest, felt almost painfully aroused. She pressed her body hard against him, and quickly found what she longed for. The fire was kindled.
Swaying with the music, he turned her around and she ground her tight little bottom hard against his growing manhood. Slowly, up and down she carressed him, imagining the feel of him deep inside her. He ran his hands lightly up her stomach, and cupped her breasts, feeling the full weight of them. Running his thumbs over her nipples, he heard her gasp with pleasure. She spun around, and then began a dance of her own on him. Lowering herself, inch by inch she explored his body, through his clothes. She felt his sparsely haired chest, and continued down to his hard stomach, not a six pack, but solid. Then she lowered herself more until she came face to face with his shaft. she knew she wanted to taste it, in everyway possible. She ran her lips over his member, up to that stout thick head, and back again. Groans could be heard throughout the club. The crowd knew that this was something of a treat. For Marie and the stranger, no one was there save the two of them. He pulled her up and she ran her lips lightly across his. In a strained voice she asked him if his place was near. He smiled, and with his arm around her waist, they left the bar.
The ride to his place was, to say the least, entertaining. She sat close and ran her hand up and down his inner thigh, gently squeezing the throbbing shaft. When they got to his "place", it was one of the finer hotels in New Orleans. Crossing the lobby, every mans' head turned to watch her walk by. She had that kind of effect on men, though women wanted to see her die. They caught the elevator to his floor, and managed to get inside his room before she began tearing at his clothes.
