Message-ID: <46861asstr$1077624605@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <200402100127.i1A1R00P041082@mailserver2.hushmail.com> From: "Russell Hoisington" X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 9 Feb 2004 17:27:00 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} {Mardi Gras} Thoughts {Hoisington} (MF rom nosex) Lines: 281 x-asstr-message-id-hack: 46861 Date: Tue, 24 Feb 2004 07:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw THOUGHTS A Mardi Gras Festival Story Russell Hoisington ************************************************************ This is an erotic fantasy. The characters and the situation are purely imaginary, and this story is *NOT* intended to be a guide for actual behavior. Any similarities between this story and actual people, or between this story and actual events that you should be ashamed of, are purely coincidental. If it is illegal for you to access and read erotic fiction, or if you don't like sex stories, then stop now. This story is copyright 2004 by Russell Hoisington. You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites as long as you do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. This does *not* mean that it is in the public domain, nor does it mean that I give permission for you to use it in spam advertising. I reserve the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by *my* definition, not yours or anyone else's. Thank you for your consideration. ~~~~~~~~~~ I lay motionless in the darkness, savoring the lingering scent of Elyssia's perfume and the tingle of her sweet kiss on my lips, and I thought about our final encounter. "Tell me? Please?" Elyssia had asked in the consummate voice for breakfast coffee, lunch in bed, and evenings beside the crackling fireplace. I squeezed her hand, and in these words I did. ~~~ My dorm mate had suggested we head to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. I thought that was a bad idea with a major economics test bearing down. "Damn it, Jim!" he said in his idea of a Georgia accent. "I'm a party animal, not a professional student." The hidden joke in there is that he's James and I'm Leonard. "Look," he said, wiping popcorn grease on his jeans before putting my desk calendar atop my open textbook and flipping it to the next month. He paused to pat Miss March affectionately on the derriere. "I got it all worked out. We leave after your last class tomorrow. I can cut P-Chem lab 'cause I'm ahead anyway. We take turns driving, and we can be in New Orleans Saturday afternoon. We party through Tuesday night, spend Wednesday driving back, and you can make most of your Thursday classes. Thursday evening, you have Bridget give you copies of her notes from Monday and Wednesday classes. Friday, Averton will review for the test. "You'll have all weekend to study for the test, and you know Bridget will help you, though I don't know why she prefers you to me since we're virtually twins. Don't I have brown hair?" He began wild hand movements with an exaggerated voice. "Don't I have green eyes? Don't I weigh two thirty-five? Don't I wear...." I tuned him out and thought about what he had said while he worked his way through Standard James Speech Number Three. Yeah, I've numbered six of them. "In fact," he said when he finally arrived at the end and I resumed listening, "the only difference between us is that I'm five-eight and you're six-four and don't have glasses. So whadda ya think? I can still get us a room." He shoved more popcorn in his mouth and stared at me. I thought it made sense the way he put it. And if anyone could find a room at that late date, it would be James. "Okay! You win!" I agreed to go, but I thought I'd regret it. ~~~ It was Fat Tuesday night. The thought struck me that I'm not a drinker like James, even when I'm partying. One, two beers max and I'm done for a couple of hours. The two advantages of my being a light drinker were that I would be able to drive back to school the next day, and that I would remember anything that happened that night. He'd be lucky to remember anything since about eight o'clock Saturday night. We were standing on a crowded first floor balcony in the French Quarter. I had a couple of dozen strings of beads from James' stockpile looped around the crook of my left elbow. He'd obviously thought about Mardi Gras long before his last minute "Let's go!" speech, which was typical. Late in our freshman year he finally realized he shouldn't talk me into something and then give me time to change my mind. He's operated that way since. I'll bet he made the room reservation a year earlier, when he casually suggested we celebrate our senior year with a trip to Mardi Gras, but I'll never ask him. He wouldn't tell me anyway. I had only a vague idea of where we were, though I knew Bourbon Street was that cross street to the right. I had no idea of how James had managed to get us spots on that side street's low balcony. The average street partyer's head was just below waist level. I thought it was the perfect place to hand out beads to the best-equipped girls flashing past us and possibly cop a feel or two. We had hit the motherlode. I thought I'd run out of beads about ten o'clock at the current rate of disbursement. Music from a boom box in the room behind us clashed with the noise from the street, forming a throbbing din that made conversation possible only by mouth-to-ear contact. The odor of unwashed bodies, stale beer, vomit, and urine blended with the acrid smoke from the fireworks. Several people on the balconies waved sparklers. Some idiot above us was throwing ladyfinger firecrackers into the air. Miraculously, none made it into the crowd before exploding. The young Hispanic couple next to James had smuggled in three Roman candles and were preparing to light them. I thought this was the night I would remember even if Alzheimer's stole everything else. And then I saw you, Elyssia. "Love at first sight" ceased to be a cliche at that instant. Of all the women I'd seen that night, I had to know your name and hear your voice. I thought you surely were a goddess descended from Olympus with that short, dark, wavy hair and flawless skin that reminded me of smooth, translucent marble crafted by Michelangelo. Those large, liquid eyes have laughter carved into them, and I find that an irresistible attractant. My eyes feasted on those full, lush lips that begged to be kissed not in lust but in adoration. And that pert nose is exactly the right size and shape for your face. I saw just a hint of eyeliner and eye shadow and knew additional makeup would have been a desecration. I was devastated to realize you were across that side street. I waved five strands of beads frantically and shouted, "HEY!" but you didn't notice me. I froze, speechless, when you lifted your top to flash someone for a single strand. Elyssia, I've seen many well-equipped women in my life, but never before had I seen perfection. As your top slid down to discourage a groping hand I knew I was in honest, perfect, abject love. I had to see you up close or die. "HEY!" I screamed and waved again, my voice lost in the cacophony surrounding us. James clapped my shoulder and slurred, "Wassa matta wit' chu, Lenny?" "That one!" I pointed at you. "Black curly hair and white shirt with the blue arm stripes, the one wearing all the beads. I'm in love, James, I'm in love. I GOTTA see her up close. HEY!" He leaned in your direction and squinted, grabbing the balcony railing when he lost his balance. "Rack'sh tha' good, huh? Or's she givin' out feelsh?" I hadn't thought about feeling your breasts except in the context of caressing every square inch of your body. "I'll give five strings just to see her face up close. She's the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. If I'm to be struck blind, let me look at her close up just once so that I can always remember her. HEY! Aw, she's not even noticing. HEY!" James turned away, I thought to leave me time to memorize all that I could of you from a distance. Then he turned back and held something showering red sparks in front of me. With a loud pop it fired a brilliant white ball across the street, barely clearing the top of that building. "Use thish," he slurred. I stole a sideways glance. On his other side both the young Hispanic woman, now topless, and her husband grinned and nodded to tell me I had their blessing to use the Roman candle. I thought the wife would have been attractive elsewhere, but the presence of a goddess rendered her but a drop in a sea of ordinary mortals. The tube fired another blazing white orb, and I took it from James and held it in my left hand. "Thanks." "Lenny!" he slurred, trying to focus while dismissively waving his hand. "What're frin'sh for? But this'll still cost cha." He turned to shove his hand down the front of the jeans of the willing Hispanic woman, and I forgot about them. I waved the fire-spewing tube back and forth in front of me, keeping it pointed toward open sky as I hoped that the moving gush of red sparks would catch your attention even if the shooting balls didn't. Something did, and that's when I pointed at you with the handful of beads. Oh, how my heart stopped when you smiled at me and began moving across the throng in my direction. But it stopped again when you paused for a quick flash and strand of beads from someone else. For a moment I thought I'd lost you. Remember how you lifted your top as you approached? I didn't know whether to look at your flawless face or your perfect breasts or the backs of your consummate wrists. You are the most beautiful being I have ever seen, Elyssia. I wanted to remember you in my mind's eye for eternity. Then the Roman candle exploded. ~~~ Elyssia slid my hand under her light wool sweater. I don't know angora from alpaca from mountain goat, but I thought it was the warmest, softest, silkiest fabric I had ever touched. It felt like burlap compared to the sleek smoothness of my goddess' stomach. She guided my hand higher over the gentle ripples of her ribs, and I discovered she wore no bra, not that she needed one. Her breast was firm and lush, radiating heat that was a comfort to my hand. It had weight, but it defied the inexorable pull of gravity. I felt the tip swell under my palm and was overwhelmed with the worry that my coarse hands were an irritation. "Only my husband and my doctor have ever touched them," she said in a soft, coffee and hot cinnamon rolls voice as she let my peasant's hand explore her goddess' treasures. Time resumed when I heard a noise behind her. She smoothly slid my hand from under the sweater, so skillfully that no one would have suspected where it had been. I pulled her hand to my lips and despoiled the back of it with a kiss. I thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do and the least offensive way to show my gratitude. She leaned forward. I smelled a hint of spearmint on her sweet breath as she pressed her lips to mine for an instant and an eternity. "I'll never forget you, either, Lenny. Good bye," she said in a quivering voice as she straightened. More spearmint mixed with the scent of her perfume, each complementing the other. A hot tear splashed on my cheek, right at the bottom edge of the bandages. She brushed it away with a fingertip. "I'm so sorry, Lenny." My voice faltered. I could only whisper, "Don't be." I was so grateful that she was uninjured. As she spoke to the surgeon on the way out the antiseptic odors crept back to overwhelm the lingering scent of her perfume. They did not keep me from seeing her standing with her top raised, looking up at me in all her radiant perfection, the last scene my ruined eyes would ever behold. I thought it was a good trade. ~~~~~~~~~~ Copyright Russell Hoisington 2004 ************************************************************ Those of us who write the stories you like to read have received and continue to receive a lot of support from ASSTR (The Alt Sex Stories Text Repository). The major service they provide is archiving our stories to make them available to you, the readers. This is a non-profit organization and is staffed by volunteers. The operation is costly and the only income they have is from donations. I ask that you consider making a donation if you have enjoyed my stories. Your donation will help insure they remain available for all to read at no cost. You can find out about donating at this link: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html Russell Hoisington State of Confusion Stories archived at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Hoisington/www http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Hoisington/ http://www.storiesonline.net Concerned about your privacy? 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