It seemed like the drive to New Orleans was so much longer than it had been before. We were finally going to a place which offered the freedom we had dreamed of and the acceptance of who we were no matter what. The Sanctum of Lavishness was within walking distance now and I couldn't wait another second for the chance to have what was desired and needed for so many years. I'd had enough of secrecy and frustration when it came to guilty pleasures.
This was going to be a night never forgotten and certainly something that would allow the inner "slut" to awaken within. Little did I know this would only be the first of many unforeseen adventures in acting upon my sexual fantasies, even those looked on by society to be "taboo" and "immoral".
Sitting in a dark room, with so many strangers, various races, sizes, ages, and attractions, seemed to be similar to a Buffett of anything you could want and more to feed your sexual desires. I thought I'd be quiet and maybe even intimidated but instead completely aroused with lustful thoughts of what could happen, with who, how, and even how many times.
Everyone was feeling that "electricity" of sexual tension, it was on everyone's mind, in their every look, and every move. I wondered if it affected them like it did me. Did they even notice it? Did it make them loose sight of any inhibitions like I had? Could I really be the only woman here moist with excitement and anticipation? I wanted to scream with happiness in a way which I'm sure would look like insanity but even if I did, it wouldn't have embarrassed me at this point.
During my thoughts of all this I realize I'm not sitting alone anymore with Nicklas. My drink in hand and other against my thigh, if you call that very last inch thigh or "the edge of point of no return". At this moment I fully recognized if I held this position a moment longer I'd be consumed by loss of control of my wondering and wanting fingers, in no time at all moaning and screaming, I surely would become the center of everyone's entertainment at least until I managed to suck my hand from fingertip to fingertip completely dry of any evidence I'd lost my composer to start with. It's then I look up to meet a woman sitting on half my lap more than the couch I hadn't been glued to for long and when I focused on her I see this beautiful, naturally sexy, smiling face who's hand was responsible for the sudden darting or pulsating series of mini orgasms, which I'd never felt before, not like that.