0 comments/ 121726 views/ 8 favorites Mardi Gras Madness By: DarkVentures My husband and I enjoy going to Mardi Gras, now even more so than ever. The first couple of times we attended were in our hometown of Galveston and we enjoyed it a lot, although it is a pretty mild scene compared to Mardi Gras in the "Big Easy". We saw things that shocked both of us and even though we are not exactly prudes, we didn't really get into a whole lot of the sexual revelry. True, with our inhibitions loosened by the alcohol and the party spirit, we both shared a few kisses and a little "innocent" groping with total strangers, but that was about the extent of our participation. One thing gnawed at us the whole year as we waited for our next trip, something that intrigued us that we didn't feel adventurous enough to try. You see, being new to the New Orlean's experience, we spent most of our time seeing the sights and participating in the parades and the raucous street life, but one night we wandered into a little jazz club just out of curiosity. There was a lot of dancing to a really good jazz combo and we enjoyed that very much, both together and with other partners. There was one thing though, that we were really curious about. It seemed from time to time we kept noticing people, both singles and couples, seeming to disappear to somewhere toward the back of the club. Finally our curiosity got the best of us and my husband asked a guy who seemed to be a regular, what was going on back there. The big man smiled and said that was where the "real" party went on. It seems the people who went back there were ready for a little more action than would be allowed in the public area with all the tourists and the occasional police checks. It was pretty much an any thing goes party only for the open minded and those not faint at heart. Anyone was welcome to participate and he suggested we check it out, eyeing me lustily. While our curiosity made us want to at least take a peek, we resisted that urge. Funny thing though, after we returned home, it was all we could think about. We even fantasized about what might have happened had we gone back there and without words both vowed to at least check it out on our next trip. Our first couple of days were spent as usual, enjoying the parades and the street scene, but as we prepared to go out for the third night, we agreed that we would check out that club. The first couple of hours, we wandered the streets and did a little bar hopping, but finally we made our way to that club. My husband could tell I was still a little uptight and uncertain about going to the "real" party, so for the first hour or so we danced and he plied me with more drinks until I was feeling no pain and very little inhibitions. Finally, we made our way into the back room. My first impression was one of disappointment, not really knowing what to expect. I guess I expected a full-fledged orgy. As we found a table and observed, I did notice that the dancing was a lot raunchier and risque and there was definitely a lot more exposed flesh and more open making out by couples of both sexes. Still it was not nearly as wild as I had expected. That all changed a short time later, thanks to my suddenly adventurous husband. We were dressed that night as a "Roaring Twenties" couple, my husband in his pin-striped suit and Fedora and I in one of those flapper dresses, short and form fitting with all that fringe. As we danced, he moved behind me, grinding into my butt as he slowly lowered the top of my dress down to my waist, exposing my lush breasts to all eyes. Thank goodness, I had enough strands of beads on that no one could really get a good look. All they could see was the beads moving as he fondled my breasts, making my nipples rockhard as he ground his growing erection into my tingling butt. Still, he had gotten the attention of several of those nearby. When I didn't protest his actions, he took things a step further, definitely drawing even more attention our way. Just as he had earlier with the top of my dress, his hands moved down and lifted my dress until it was gathered at my waist, exposing my long, shapely legs and almost nude, thong covered bottom. To make things even worse, his big hand moved to the tiny patch of red material that barely covered my clean shaven pussy, fondling it slowly before pushing the material aside, exposing me totally. This brought many suggestive catcalls and brought most of the movement on the dance floor to a standstill. I suddenly felt lightheaded, not as much from the booze I had consumed as by the fact that it was obvious where my horny husband was headed with his actions. He left me little time to ponder my own feelings. "How about it, anyone want some of this?" he laughed, his words slightly slurred as he slowly slid a finger up and down between my rapidly moistening labia. I writhed against him, trembling as I realized he was offering me to any and all takers. "How about you, Zulu?" he said, addressing a huge black man dressed as a Zulu chieftain, all the while one hand fondling a breast as the other fondled my now sopping sex. "You want some of this fine, white pussy?" The dark giant let his actions speak for him, one huge hand on my husband's chest, pushing him away as he enfolded me in his other powerful arm. His thick, full lips crushed down on mine, his tongue entering my open mouth in a kiss that took my breath away. As I returned his kiss, his huge hands cupped my tingling butt, pulling me so close that I could feel the heat from the growing bulge beneath his breechcloth grinding into my suddenly churning belly. "You don't need these." he roared for the crowd as he ripped away my wet panties, leaving me completely exposed for a second before his big hand covered my mound, causing me to jerk as he plunged a huge finger into my sopping hole. "You like that, white bitch?" "Mmmmmmmmm....yeeaasssssss...love it...finger my wet pussy." I purred, writhing on his thick digit, eyes closed, my head lolling back drunkenly. "Make me cum baby. I need to cum so bad." Just when my body started trembling, right on the edge of a much needed orgasm, he pulled away, smiling wickedly at the dilemma of a woman right on the edge. The gathering crowd roared their approval with raucous laughter and even more lewd remarks. "On your knees, slave!" he demanded, towering menacingly over me, his big hand twisting in my hair as he forced me downward. "Worship at the feet of Mutumba." Entranced, I slid to my knees, hands trembling as I pushed aside his breechcloth, finding myself face to face with the biggest, darkest black cock I had ever seen in my life. Hanging there in it's semi-flaccid state, it was nearly twice as long as any cock I had ever had, thick, dark, uncut and as menacing as the black giant it was attached to. "Don't just stare at it, bitch!" he growled, prompting more calls from our audience. "Worship the black cock of your master. His huge hand again twisted my hair painfully, pulling my face into his musky crotch, almost smothering me with his masculine aroma. Timidly, I reached up, my hand unable to completely encircle his thickness. Pulling back the thick hood of flesh that covered its purple head, I flicked my tongue out, lapping away the glistening precum that oozed from his slit. He gasped, jerking slightly as my ovalled lips closed over the thick organ, sucking a couple of inches of the thick, velvety cockmeat into my mouth, tongue swirling around it eagerly. The crowd was really getting into it now, chanting as I sucked more and more of the rapidly growing organ into my stuffed, stretched mouth. The room rang with comments like, "look at her work that dick" and "suck that black cock you white slut". All the lust in the room only served to further fuel my enthusiasm for blowing the biggest cock I had ever seen. At the moment there was only me and that huge black cock in the whole world. "You want my cream, white lady?" he laughed, pulling what had to be a foot of solid, rockhard cockmeat from my mouth and tauntingly slapping my cheeks with it. "You want my hot, black sperm in your white belly?" "Mmmmmmmmmm....yes....yesssssssssssssss!" I murmured, grabbing his giant organ, trying to pull it back into my salivating mouth. "Cum for me master. Give me your hot, sweet cream!" He grasped my head in his huge hands, holding me still as he pumped his throbbing bone in and out of my stuffed mouth, fucking my face mercilessly. One of my hands fondled his huge ball sac, feeling those huge orbs tightening. My other hand slid between my own trembling legs, frigging my sopping cunt, bringing me closer and closer to another orgasm. Just when I thought I could stand no more and my body was rocked by an overwhelming orgasm, he pulled his swollen rod from my mouth, twisting my head back roughly with one hand while the other stroked his throbbing monster rapidly. Through lust glazed eyes, I watched the big eye in his cockhead open, the first jet of his creamy essence spurting over my lapping tongue. There was so much that I could not swallow nearly all of it and I felt glob after glob of his hot manjuice spurting into my face and hair, dripping down onto my bead covered chest. When he stopped shooting, he stuffed his spent shaft back into my mouth, letting me lovingly suck the last of the tasty juice from his throbbing bone. "Now I'm going to breed my white whore." Mutumba announced proudly, glaring at my shocked husband who still stood nearby, as enrapt in the lusty scene as the rest of the crowd. "You want me to plant my potent black seed in your wife's white belly?" "Do whatever you want, big guy." my stunned husband said meekly, sounding far away as the crowd roared appreciatively. "Give the horny bitch what she wants." The black giant pulled me to my feet by my hair,dragging me to a nearby table. He roughly pushed me face down on the table, one big hand holding the back of my neck while the other alternately spanked my exposed butt and then reached between my spread legs to fondle my sopping sex, probing me deeply with two thick fingers, opening me for the coming assault. As wet and open as I was, I still cringed and cried out in pain as he entered me, stretching me painfully with his thickness as he plunged a couple of inches of the ebony tool into my helpless body. Totally disregarding my screams and pleas for him to take it slow, the black giant plunged on, each powerful stroke planting his pulsing rod deeper into "virgin" territory. It was such a strange mix of pain, pleasure and taboo excitement that I thought I might lose my mind. "You like the way my big black dick is fucking you, bitch?" he growled, his hand twisting in my hair, turning my head until I was staring through drunken, lust glazed eyes at my stunned husband. "Tell your husband how much you love the way Mutumba fucks you." "Mmmmmmmmmm...uuunnnnnggghhh....yesssss...yesss.. YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" I cried out, totally unashamed at the slut I had become. "He's fucking me sooooooo good, honey! His black cock is so big and hot and hard...FUCKING ME SOOOOOOO FUCKING GOOD...OHHHHHHHH GAAAAAAWWWWWWDDD YES!" Having recently used my mouth to relieve his needs, my black master had seemingly unlimited staying power, pounding relentlessly into my helpless body that seemed to be wracked by an almost continuous string of blinding orgasms. He had to have fucked me for a half hour at least when I told him my legs were too weak for me to stand any longer. Lifting my legs, he held me up, fucking into me "wheelbarrow" style, penetrating even deeper into my stretched, aching cunt. "You want me to shoot my sperm in you, my little slut?" he roared, his throbbing cock buried deep in my fertile womb, churning and grinding slowly as he awaited my reply. "You want me to put a black baby in your white belly? Tell your husband you want my powerful black sperm to make a big black baby in your belly." "Ooooooooohhh...ohhhhhhhgaaawwwddd..yes...yes.... YEEEEAAAAASSSSSS!" I screamed out, delerious with sexual pleasure. "Let him give me his baby, hon'. Please let him cum in me...PUHLEEEEEEZE!" Even as the last words trailed from my mouth, his huge cock jerked, erupting and bathing the walls of my uterus with what felt like gallons of his virile, potent black sperm. My tortured cunt reacted, my own juices gushing from me so copiously that for a moment I thought I had lost control of my bladder and urinated on myself. Never in my life had I cum so hard. I suddenly felt so weak that it was a struggle just to remain concious, feeling a great loss and emptiness when he slowly eased his spent monster from my ravished cunt. "Anyone else want some of Mutumba's brown pole?" I heard my master saying proudly as he gave my upturned, motionless ass one more sharp, stinging slap with his huge hand. "Meeeeeeee...meeeeee please!" I heard an older, chunky white woman who had been sitting in a nearby chair watching our show, her pudgy fingers working at her matronly breasts and the hairy, wet snatch between her thick thighs. "Bring that big, beautiful cock to Momma." Through half closed eyes, I watched her fat fingers close around his thick length,still glistening with my juices,pulling it into her drooling hungry mouth. She sucked him lustily, noisily, bringing more roars of approval from the spectators who were now totally caught up in the lusty spectacle. I had little time to enjoy my role of spectator as another stranger suddenly moved behind me, feeling disappointingly small as he sutffed his smaller organ into my gaping gash, sloshing around in my wetness. His hands reached beneath me to roughly paw at my aching breasts. ""Damn, this cunt's so loose and wet I can hardly feel it." he laughed, bringing the roar of laughter from the crowd around us. "That big black fucker really stretched her out. Gonna have to fuck this tight ass." I had little warning or time to protest as I felt his cockhead nudging against my puckered rosebud. It suddenly felt much larger as he plunged into me without warning, causing me to cry out in surprise and more than a little pain as he pumped into my unprepared asshole. Soon my cries were stifled when another man, a huge black man, climbed onto the table, grabbing my head and stuffing his big, dark erection into my open mouth. Before I became too distracted to think of anything else, I watched Mutumba pull the older blonde into the floor, placing her on hands and knees as he plunged into her gaping hole, causing her to squeal with delight. Nearby, my husband smiled and gave me a helpless shrug as a young redhead knelt before him, hungrily sucking at his throbbing cock while a muscular black man entered her from behind. I soon lost track of how many men, and women used my aching body. The black man who had been feeding me his cock, pulled me from the table and carried me like a sack of feed to a mattress in the back of the room almost as soon as the cock punishing in my ass released it's load. All in all, I learned from later watching a video tape someone had graciously given my husband that I had repeatedly had a total of eleven different men filling my various openings with an endless supply of fresh, hard cockmeat. I even had my sloppy pussy eaten by the young redhead while my husband fucked her sexy ass and the highlight of the evening for most seemed to be when I engaged in a torrid sixty-nine with a sexy, slender blonde, both of us dining like starved animals at each others sodden cunts. We have really enjoyed watching that tape over and over and having marathon sex bouts from the stimulus it provided. We are both definitely looking forward to the next time we make our way to the Delta City. By the way, Mutumba failed in his efforts to impregnate me. His timing must have been off, but the anticipation of the possible results of our evening of lust only added to the excitement and afterglow of the whole adventure and I have little doubt that he or someone else will get another shot at it next year, same time, same place. SEE YA THERE, I HOPE!! Mardi Gras Madness Pam screamed along with the other revelers. She and her best friend Becky were in the middle of Bourbon Street enjoying the last day of Mardi Gras. They had saved for over a year to pay for the trip. If her ex-boyfriend Wayne could see her now he'd surely want her back. She and Becky worked as nurses in their hometown of St. Augustine. In all of her twenty-one years, she'd never had this much fun. Pam and Becky had decided to dress like prostitutes. Pam had on a sequenced short set and Becky was decked out in a leather short set. To be even more daring they didn't put on panties. Pam's strawberry blond hair cascaded over ample breast. Beads of every color and size hung from her neck. In two days, she and Becky would return home to their boring lives. Pam was thinking strongly of getting back with her ex-boyfriend Wayne. He was a waste of time, but at least she would have someone. He couldn't kiss and he had no ideal of how to please a woman. But he was better than no one she thought. A man on a balcony seemed to be beckoning to her. He was yelling and motioning to her to pull her shorts down for the beads he held in his hand. Becky started goading her on. Pam thoughts were quite dulled by the two hurricane drinks she had drank earlier. She knew it was against the law to pull down your pants but she was caught up in the moment. She was surrounded by so many people and her excitement level was over the top. She hooked her thumbs in her shorts and shimmied them down past her crotch then pulled them quickly up. The crowd roared its approval and beads were thrown her way. A strong hand grabbed her arm and started pulling her. She was unsteady on her feet and being pulled and bumped into. Pam turned trying to yell for Becky but she couldn't see her in the crowd. She was pushed up to a wall. Her hands were pulled back and handcuffed. "Miss, you're under arrest for indecent exposure," said an authoritative voice. "No, officer. Please, I'm sorry. I won't do it again," cried Pam. "That's for sure. I'm going to take you to the holding vehicle where you'll be transported to jail." Pam cried and begged as he pulled her along the street. The sound of people having fun became more distant. What would Becky think when she couldn't find her. The officer maintained silence as he pulled her along. Pam could see he was taller than her and dark headed. He had on a big bomber jacket, t-shirt and jeans. Without warning he stopped, opened a gate and pulled Pam inside. Pushing her face first into a creeping vine wall, he covered her eyes and warned her not to make a sound. He guided her along slowly. They stopped again and she could hear him using a key. She was pushed into a building. The air was oppressive like an empty old building. He guided her through two more doors. When he closed the last one, Pam could hear a key locking the door. Again she was pushed up to a wall. Her hands were released only to be shackled again to a chain hanging over her head. She sobbed quietly now. She didn't know where she was, but jail would have been better. There was a click and she could see light through her blindfold. The man moved about humming a tune. Pam was so afraid she was shaking uncontrollably. He came up behind her and ran his hands all over her body. Pam moaned from fright. "You like showing people your pussy, don't you," he purred in her ear. He prodded her to answer. "No sir...I just wasn't thinking right. Please let me go," begged Pam. "I'd like to see that little pussy of yours first." His hands roamed her body again making Pam cringe. Using a knife he cut her clothes off then removed all her beads. "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you as long as you do what I tell you. Turn around, let's see that pussy," he commanded. Pam had enough slack in her chain to turn around. She didn't dare defy him. He skin was pale and clear. Her breasts were large without being too much. Her nipples were hard and painful from the cold in the room. The thick patch of hair between her legs matched the color on her head. He nodded in approval. He touched her breast making her shift away. His fingers captured her nipples rolling and pinching them. Pam cried out from the pain and something else she was feeling. Abruptly he used his knee to make her spread her legs. His fingers trailed down to her bush. He slid one finger along her slit feeling her wetness. "Don't move," he warned. He began to tongue her nipples lashing and sucking them. His fingers explored her pussy. Her juices covered his hand and trailed down her legs. Moan after moan escaped her lips. Thoughts of begging him to stop eluded her. Something wonderful was happening in her pussy. She wanted to thrust at his hands but was afraid to move. Suddenly he stopped. Quickly he released her hands and steered her to a bed in the room. He pushed her down on her stomach. He pulled her ass up and continued to finger her. Pam pushed back to meet his fingers. "I like your pussy. It's so wet. Tell me you want it...tell me you want me to fuck you," he demanded. Pam didn't want to say the words. She was desperate to feel his cock in her, but she didn't want to say the words. He plunged two fingers deep in her sopping cunt almost making her come then quickly withdrew them. "No...no, please don't...." "Don't what, tell me now. Don't act all shy. You showed your pussy on Bourbon Street so don't act shy now," he growled at her. Pam knew it wouldn't do any good to beg him. "Please... please fuck me. I want you to," she moaned. Without undo ceremony, he thrust into her. Pam barely had a chance to catch her breath as he thrust again and again. At first it hurt and she moaned loudly in pain. Soon she was moaning with desire. She pushed back to meet his cock. The pleasure was almost excruciating. He ground into her wildly. She could feel the tip of his cock deep in her. Wayne never fucked her like this. Hell, he never even fucked her. His breathing was ragged and loud. Pam felt herself rushing toward an orgasm when the man pulled out. Before she could complain he gripped her butt and started fingering her asshole. "No, not there," she wailed as she felt the tip of his rock-hard cock. With little mercy he pushed into her. He grabbed her ass and pulled her onto his cock. Pam screamed and tried to pull away. "Shut up bitch...showing your pussy...you know you want it," he grunted. He pumped several more times then grunted loudly as he shot hot semen in her. Pam fell over moaning from the pain in her ass and the ache in her unfulfilled pussy. They both lay there breathing heavily. Pam just wanted to get up and go home. She felt his hands caressing her again. "I don't want you to leave without getting yours," he said. He rolled her over and spread her legs. His tongue caught her clit and lashed it roughly. Pam was beyond tired but he slowly revived her. In a matter of minutes he brought her to the biggest climax she had ever had. He got up and got dressed. As he was leaving he spoke to her. "Thanks for the nice pussy, cher. Count to five hundred and leave. Happy Mardi Gras." Mardi Gras Madness We met at a party given by one of my co-workers. I wasn't drinking that night and since I am a shy person I wasn't much into the party. I had started to say my "goodbyes" when the pretty young woman came up to me and tried to get me to taste her drink. She said, "Taste this and tell me what is in it." I told her, " I am not drinking tonight. I can't tell one liquor from another." She said, "I like my liquor and I like lickers also. Are you a licker? Do you think I would like you?" I knew she was a little drunk so I grinned at her and said, "Any man would like to lick you . I bet you taste good." She looked at me and smiled and said, " Follow me and get your licker ready. I need some loving and I think you may be the one. Then you can tell me if I taste good." I sure didn't want to turn this down, but with the way STD's are today I had to pass this up. I took her by the arm and led her back to the couch in the living room. We sat down and I told her, " This is not a good idea. You are too drunk and we don't know each other. Let me take you home and when we are both sober then we can talk about it." I took her home and got her in the house. She thanked me for being so kind and gave me her name and phone number. She said, "Call me sometime. I would like to see you when I am not this drunk. I am sorry to be so much trouble." I called her the next night. When I told her who I was she got embarrassed and told me she was sorry to have been so much trouble. I assured her it was no trouble. We talked for a little while and agreed to meet for coffee the next day at a shop we both knew. Let me tell you a little about us. Donna was twenty-one and worked as a secretary at a realty company. She is 5'6" inches tall, weighs 120 pounds, and has blond hair cut just above her shoulders with a 34C bust. I am 6'2" inches tall, weigh 210 pounds, with black wavy hair that I keep cut medium length. I am a firefighter with the city and work 24on-48off. I work part-time with a fellow firefighter as a carpenter. My name is Ben. We met the next day and hit it off. We started to date and got married a year later. We did some heavy petting and oral sex before we married but waited before we went all the way. The sex got better and better as we went along. We started to experiment with anal after about six months. She had been with two men before me and I had only been with one woman before we married. We started saving for a house and she ask the realtors to keep an eye out for what we were looking for. We bought a small two- bedroom house in an old but nice neighborhood and got settled in. We started to buy some furniture along as we could afford it and she started to school at night to become a realtor. She got her license and started making good money. She really worked hard and sometimes spent long hours showing properties. Her dress had changed little except she started wearing more professional clothes. About six months ago she changed her lingerie to thongs and lacy bras or the little silky boy shorts panties. She didn't say anything to me about them and when I asked why she changed she told me they made her feel better about herself. I started to notice that her normal time to come home was eight or nine o'clock. One night a week she would come in at midnight or later and the nights would never be the same. I asked her about this and the answer was, "I go back to the office and do paperwork on those nights." I asked, "Could you do that on nights I work so we can have more time together?" She said, "I do it on nights that I need to do it. We get to see and be with each other quite often." Nights that I would be at the station on duty, she would call and tell me she was going out with the girls and would probably be in late. One of her co-workers was named Ann. I was on duty one night when she called to inform me she was going out with Ann and another new realtor. I didn't think anything until Ann called the station about eleven o'clock and asked for me. She told me she had tried to reach Donna at home and on her cell phone and couldn't get her. She said, "I am in Atlanta this week for a convention and I need to talk to her tonight. Could you get her to call me tonight, if you can get in touch with her?" I told her, "I will see what I can do." The next morning when I came home I asked her, "How was your night out?" She replied, "Great. Ann got a little tipsy. She told me to tell you hello." I began to think something is not right but I didn't say anything. I noticed the night she came in late she would go straight to the bathroom and take a shower before she came and kissed. Other nights she always came to me and hugged my neck and kissed me. We would talk about our day and how everything was going. I wanted to follow her some nights but I knew I would not be able to because she could be anywhere. I started looking for other signs that she was cheating on me but they never showed up. We had talked for the last two years about taking some time off and going to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. This year we decided now was the time. We made the plans and checked out the Internet. We couldn't get a motel room but we did get a room with a bath in a house in Harahan. We knew it would be a bus ride every day but we didn't have anything but time on our hands. We arrived in town and got settled in and started going to the parades in the afternoons and then we would go to Bourbon street at night. She would have a few drinks and we would walk up and down the street and just have a good time. Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras is where the women can show their breasts to people on the balconies and they will throw them beads. The second night Donna stopped in front of one of these places and stood there looking up at the people. I noticed that one man in particular was trying to get her to pull her blouse up. I thought he would be disappointed because she would have on a bra even though it was lacy and shear. I was surprised when she lifted her blouse and she was bare breasted. He threw her the beads but she didn't turn away. I told her she needed to move on or the cops would be talking to her. We walked down the street and came back that way about an hour later. The same man was taunting her to show her breast again. This time she didn't hesitate. Up her blouse went and down came the beads. She waved at the man and we moved on. That night when we made love she was wetter and hotter than I could remember. The next day after the last parade Donna and I got separated and I knew it would be impossible to find her in the crowd. I knew she would go to Bourbon Street and I figured I would have a better chance of seeing her there. When I spotted her she was close to the building where she got the beads. I hung back to see if she would show herself again. I didn't see the man on the balcony and she didn't show anything. She walked on up the street but turned around and started back. I had to duck into a bar until she passed. When she got back to the building the man was there and spotted her right away. She lifted her shirt and he threw the beads and she motioned him to come down. In a few minutes he showed up and he placed a big string of beads around her neck. She reached up and pulled his head down and kissed him for a minute or more. I watched as they went to the door of the building and he unlocked the door and they entered. I walked to the door and tried it but it was locked. I hung around where I could watch the door. About fifteen minutes passed and I saw another man come out the door. I watched as he went up the street and in a few minutes he came back. I approached him and told him who I was and that my wife had went into the building about twenty minutes ago with this guy. I described the man and he shook his head and said, "Yeah that SOB does that all the time. I would like to kick his ass but he is the big man's son." I asked, "Can you get me in the building? I don't want to cause any problems or trouble. I want to catch my wife if she is doing anything. If you let me in I promise I will let her know I am there and then I will leave." He let me follow him into the building and asked some of the others if they knew where Rick was. They told him Rick was in one of the bedrooms screwing some woman off the street. He looked at me and said, "Do you want to see that?" I told him, "Yes, I have my camera. I want to take a picture and I want her to know that I saw what was going on. I will leave as soon as I get the picture." He said, "I am going to give you an address. I want you to send a copy of the pictures. You don't have to put a return address." I took the piece of paper and put it in my pocket. I checked my camera and followed him down a hall. I noticed the doors was the old kind with the skeleton key locks. I asked him if he had a key. He gave it to me and I told him I would leave it in the door. We got to the door and we could hear Donna moaning and saying, "Fuck me you stud. Fuck me. Yes. Yes. Fuck me hard." I opened the door and the man had Donna up on her hands and knees. He was behind her pumping his dick into her pussy hard and fast. I turned the light on and snapped off two pictures just as they both looked around. As I was pulling the door closed I could her Donna saying, "OH fuck. Get off me you bastard. That was my husband. Let me go you son of a bitch." I locked the door and turned the key half way so that it could not be pushed out from the other side. I followed the guy down the hall and out the door into the street. I walked to Canal Street and took a cab to the rooming house. My cell phone started ringing while on the ride to the house. I saw it was Donna and I cut my phone off. I had my bags packed and I was on I-10 headed toward Mobile to another Mardi Gras in about fifteen minutes. I stopped in Pascagoula, MS. and got a room. I was talking to the desk clerk about the parades in Mobile and asked if she could get me a room there. She told me I would be better off staying where I was and driving each day. I spent four of the most fun filled days in Mobile. I went to the parades each day and night from Sunday when I saw Joe Cain's Widows completely covered in mourning black visit Joe's grave. They arrived in a bus and all wept at his grave and each declared she was his favorite. I discovered this was a more family orientated setting. There was none of the breast showing for beads or if there was I didn't see it. I learned that Mobile was the birthplace of Mardi Gras. I got to see some royalty in their finest as they went to the balls. I really felt at home but I had to leave on Ash Wednesday. I had to get back to work and decide what I was going to do about my marriage. I got home late Wednesday night. Donna was not there and from the looks of the place had not been there. We had unplugged the phone before we left and I left it. I drove by the fire station on Thursday to let them know I was back and would be to work on Friday. The assistant chief called me into his office and wanted to know what was going on. He told me Ann had called him. The police in New Orleans had picked up Donna and when she couldn't get in touch with me had called her. I had downloaded the pictures that morning before I left home. I went to the truck and got one of them. They were almost the same shot. They didn't move much in the short time I shot both pictures. I show one to the chief and said, "This is what Mardi Gras Madness' will do to you." He said he was sorry and asked what was I going to do. I told him, "Chief, I don't know yet but I think it is time we part ways. She is making big money now and I guess it has gone to her head." I hooked the phone back up that afternoon. Ann called later and wanted to come by and talk. She came over about seven. I invited her in and offered a drink. She declined but did take a coke. She asked, "Have you talked to Donna? She is supposed to get out of jail tomorrow. She wants you to come and get her." I said, "I have to work tomorrow. And I am not driving to New Orleans to pick her up. She can ride the bus or hitchhike." Ann said, "She wouldn't tell me what happened. She told me you got mad and left her down there." I got the pictures and showed them to Ann and said, "This is why I left her down there. I know she has been running around on me here and I have the proof I need now." Ann sat there for a minute and then said, "It is none of my business but yes she has been cheating on you with some of the male realtors. I tried to tell her but she wouldn't listen. I will deny I said that if it comes up. I am going to send her bus fare and she can pay me back later. I am sorry this happened." Donna was home when I got there Saturday morning. She was sitting on the couch and she had been crying. I walked through the living room and took my bag back to the spare bedroom and threw it on the bed. I started puling my uniform off when I heard her come in the room. She said, "Why are you in here?" I said, "I figured this was best until we decide who is moving out." She started to cry again and said, "Can't we work this out. I don't want to leave you and I don't want you to leave. I know I messed up. I got wrapped up in the carnival atmosphere and did a foolish thing. Will you forgive me? I will do whatever you want me to do. You tell me and I will do it." Donna, If that was the only time we could work it out but you have been with others for the last six months or longer. I can't live with that. I won't live with you doing that. You make up your mind. Do I go or do you go?" Her face turned real pale and she bent over clutching her stomach. She dropped to her knees and said, "Oh GOD I can't believe I have done this. Ben, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. Let me make it up to you. Can we both stay here while we work it out? Please just stay in the house and let me stay. You make the rules and I will abide by them. Please Ben. Don't leave me. I didn't realize how much I need you until you left me in New Orleans and I couldn't get in touch with you." We still live in the house in separate rooms. We both went to the doctor and were declared clean. We have not had sex but we do talk more and she is home every night. She shows her properties in the daytime or turns them over to someone else. I don't work every day off at the carpenter job. We go on picnics and to movies a lot more often. She hasn't had a drink since she came back. Will we ever be a couple again? I don't know. Maybe a future story will tell. Mardi Gras Madness Nick Larkin and I were tripping our nuts off on some really good blotter when we saw her sauntering through the crowd of revelers, most of whom were just as buzzed as we were. No doubt about it; she got some stares, even for a Mardi party. It was the Saturday before Mardi Gras in 2001. I was still single at the time, sharing a house in Mid-City with Nick, an old friend from college (UNO, not Tulane). I remember that it was warm that night, very warm and extremely sultry, even by the standards of the deepest South. The reason I remember what the weather was like that night was because it brought out the exhibitionist in everyone. Like Nick and me, a lot of people were tripping, either on LSD or ecstasy, and the less clothes you had on, the easier it was to cool off. This was Mardi Gras when there were absolutely no inhibitions, before 9-11, before Iraq, before Katrina, the last real blowout before the world started turning to shit. We were at the annual Krewe of Cooze Ball, held on the Saturday before Mardi Gras. The Krewe of Cooze was a group that had formed around 1990, and had gotten a word-of-mouth reputation for throwing the best pre-Mardi party in town. They hired a banquet hall -- a lodge of some kind down in the Irish Channel -- a really good band, and a lot of really eclectic folks showed up. You paid 20 bucks and had to be in costume to get in, and that cover charge allowed you to drink all night. There were no invitations, no announcements, no advertising of any sort, but every year a thong of people showed up, some who parked outside with their coolers so they didn't have to fight the crowds at the bar. Whoever it was that put it on didn't care. The hall they hired was set up so that if you wanted to slip outside and bust up a doobie or two, you could do so without too much exposure. As long as you stayed out of the main entryway, the cops who watched for trouble let it slide. I never knew who made up the Krewe of Cooze, but allegedly they were some rich bastards from Tulane who had made a killing in the dot.com business and gotten out before the bottom dropped out. Other rumors had the krewe being made up of some high-level drug dealers who used the party to off-load some disposable cash, and there were certainly a lot of very spacy folks at this party every year, so that may well have been the case. Nick and I weren't really drinking a lot that night. We'd scored some good trips and were really grooving to the band, which was a jam-type band reminiscent of the Radiators or maybe the Neville Brothers of old. It was loose and funky, and we were having a high old time when Nick elbowed me and pointed her out. She was something else again. She was tallish, probably 5-foot-9, with dark shoulder-length hair cut in kind of a peek-a-boo style so that it curled around one of her eyes. She was slender, with some very nice legs and a pair of breasts that sat up high and proud on her chest. We knew this because all she was wearing was an elaborate masque, purple high heels and body paint, very strategically placed. She appeared to have a slightly dusky complexion, although my eyesight was admittedly altered. Still, she looked to be covered in a light gold base paint with purple paint covering her breasts, her stomach and her crotch area, with little purple swirls all over her arms and legs. In any other situation, she may well have been arrested, but this was three days before Mardi Gras in New Orleans at a semi-private party on a hot, muggy night, and she wasn't the only naked or semi-naked woman -- or man -- in attendance. She was just the best-looking one. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never know why she picked us as her party mates for the night. She never said and neither one of us ever asked. Maybe it was because we weren't trying to impress her like some of the other romeos out there. Our costumes weren't terribly exotic or original. I was dressed as a Roman gladiator (a glad- he-ate-her, har-har) and Nick was a Greek god of some sort. I had found some old sandals I'd had and rigged them up with leather straps to look like Roman shoes. I had on a pair of tight gym shorts from my high school days, from back before baggy shorts were the norm, and had found a leather skirt that I'd cut into strips to look like a gladiator's uniform. I even had a plastic sword and scabbard. Like I said; not very exotic and not terribly original, but it did leave my chest bare, and I am a fairly well-put together fellow. I played baseball in high school and I've stayed in shape. Nick wasn't an athlete, but he was fairly big like me, plus he had a way with women. His costume was even simpler than mine. He'd just cut up an old sheet to look like a tunic, found a plastic garland for his head, sprinkled glitter all over his body and just like that, he was a god. Hey, it was Mardi Gras. Shit like that flies during Carnival when it would get laughed at any other time of the year. Anyway, this naked woman walked into the crowd, ignoring the usual blandishments from the hot-shots who were hot to trot for her, and stood near us swaying to the music. Nick sidled over and casually engaged the woman in conversation, talking about the band, I think. I don't really know, because she turned to look in my direction and I was captured by two searing green eyes that peeked out of from her masque. She had the most penetrating gaze of any woman I've ever met, before or since. Indeed, they've haunted me since that night. She said her name was Mirabel, and that she was from Canada, without elaborating. I wasn't sure if she was telling the truth or not, but her accent definitely wasn't that of a Yat. Nick introduced us (I'm Paul, by the way), and he offered to fetch her a drink, which left me with a chance to find out a little about her and those mysterious eyes. She said she was visiting a cousin who lived in the city and was enjoying her first Mardi Gras. As we chatted, she looked me up and down with a cool detachment that didn't quite mask a feral hunger that made me shiver. I was horny anyway, and the trips just added a ragged edge to my arousal. I returned the gaze, and I wasn't the least bit shy about it. I think even before anything overt was said, the body language that we were speaking told us what was going to happen. And what was about to happen was the most mind-blowing sex of my life. I was a pretty savvy guy when it came to women. I was 25 and still single, and I'd bedded some pretty fine ladies. But this was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, something that I'll always remember, simply because it was so outrageous, and so erotic, that I could never forget it. Nick returned with our drinks -- vodka and tonic for Mirabel, beer for us -- and we drifted onto the dance floor with all the other crazies. Watching Mirabel dance was making us hard, and I could tell that she noticed, because her eyes would wander to our cocks, and a sly little half-smile would crease her mouth. She had such a sensuous way of moving to the music that was utterly spellbinding. When the band took a break, Nick suggested we walk out to where his car was parked to smoke a joint, and Mirabel agreed to join us. As we were passing the joint around, Nick broached the question of how and why she had hit upon her unique costume. "I've wanted to do something like this for a long time, and Canada's really not a good place for that," she said. "Besides, it make picking up a guy or two to fuck a lot easier." Well, I thought, that was direct. Leave it to Nick to cut right to the chase. "So, are you going to fuck us, or are you just talking?" he said Her answer was to pull Nick to her and kiss him, deep and hard. "I think I'm going to fuck you," she said when she let him up for air. Then she gave me a disconcerting stare just before pulling me to her. Unlike Nick, I let my hands roam over her tart body as I lost myself in her ruby lips and darting tongue. "And you, too," she said softly when she released me from her lip lock. "OK, your place or mine?" I said. "Neither," she answered, and as she did she lifted her left foot onto the bumper of Nick's car, exposing her clean-shaved sex. It was a hot pink gash that stood out in stark contrast to the purple paint that was supposed to cover it. I was on autopilot now, and I slid over and ran one hand softly over her back while the other delved into that hot, juicy pussy. "Mmmmmm," she purred as I deftly stroked her clit, which poked out from its hood in anticipation. Her nipples had already come to attention, and I reached up and softly caressed one of the hard tips. On impulse, I suddenly squatted down and placed my mouth squarely on her pink pussy, while Nick reached around from behind to squeeze and fondle her breasts. I slashed my tongue along her flowing slit, worked my mouth on her clit, then bored into her hole with my tongue. I knew I was getting somewhere when I felt her hands holding me in place while she subtly rolled her hips in time to my oral ministrations. "So, if we're not going to your place or ours, then where do we go?" I asked when I came up again for air. "I don't think you can get a decent motel room at this time of the night three days before Mardi Gras." "There's a room in the backstage area," she said. "My cousin is friends with one of the roadies who's watching the door. He'll let us in. Come on." And with that she wrapped her arms around both of our shoulders and led us back into the hall. I have to confess, it was hard walking because my cock was hard as an iron bar. As we walked, I placed my hand on her firm butt, and she chuckled, a low and throaty sound that sent chills up and down my spine. The band was back out and getting tuned up for its next set when we came to the backstage door. I guess for wedding receptions it would have been used for the bride's changing room, but on this night it was the refuge for a hippie orgy. Mirabel whispered something to the large fellow who was manning the door, and he opened the door to allow us in. He gave Nick and me a huge grin as we passed through the door. Now I've been around a little bit. I grew up in a fairly large town, went to college in a big city and ran with a fairly fast crowd. But I had never seen anything like what we encountered when we entered that room. There were three other couples in there, but they were way too preoccupied to notice us. In one corner, a man and a woman were sharing hits off a tank of nitrous oxide, kind of like in the movie "9½ Weeks." They were naked, sitting cross-legged, and slowly masturbating each other while they passed the hose for the gas. In another corner, a lesbian couple were engaged in a very hot 69. I never knew if they were good-looking or not, because the whole time we were there, she stayed glued to each other's pussy. On the sofa, another naked couple, a woman with long blonde hair and a Latin-looking guy, were fucking up a storm, with her on top riding him. She looked over at us, and sort of nodded at Mirabel, and she told us that was her cousin, Desiree. "OK, let's see what we've got to work with here," Mirabel said, jerking our attention back to the matter at hand. My cock practically exploded out of the confines of my shorts as I pulled them off my hips. Nick wasn't far behind as he dropped his toga and slid his boxers to the floor. "Hmmmmm, nice, very nice," Mirabel purred. She softly stroked us to rampant hardness, then squatted down, turned her face toward my cock and began to saw my length between her lush, ruby lips. I could feel the pre-cum boiling out the tip end of my cock, and it didn't take Mirabel long to get a taste, as she curled her tongue around the little pee hole and slurped up the clear fluid. Then she turned and gave Nick the same treatment, keeping a soft but firm grip on my dick, lightly stroking as she worked Nick's cock between her lips. After a couple of minutes, she turned back toward me, and this time she didn't mess around. She opened her mouth and drew the head of my cock past her lips, sucking me in expertly, until she had a little over half of me in her hot depths. As she worked my cock back and forth in her mouth, I stared down at her and she looked up at me through the eyehole of her masque. I could see her left hand, with the blood-red nail polish, as she softly stroked Nick's cock. It was surreal, the fact that I was standing there in this orgy room, naked next to my equally naked roomie. I'd seen Nick naked a couple of times, but not in a sexual situation. But that was only at the periphery of my consciousness, because I was getting seriously wicked sensations from the way Mirabel was sucking my cock. It was a pro-caliber blow job, and made me wonder just what it was this woman did for a living in Toronto, or wherever she was from. She sucked me deep into her throat slowly, drawing out the sensations, and used her tongue to tease and delight. Her lips were like velvet as she worked my meat deeper and deeper into her maw. At last, she let my cock go free, and swirled her tongue around the crown before turning her attention once again to Nick. I gazed down and could see where Mirabel was squatting between us, and I could see her drooling pussy, open and inviting. It only took me a couple of seconds to make a quick decision. Although I was doing a bang-up job of holding back the tidal wave of cum that was threatening to explode, I was ready to kick things up a notch. So I deftly maneuvered Mirabel and Nick, so that he plopped down on the chair and she was on her knees, with her ass in the air. She was good; she never lost her connection with Nick's dick, and just kept right on sucking. Mirabel's mouth may have been too full of cock for her to say anything, but she expressed her desire by reaching under her body and spreading open her juicy lips with two fingers, as good an invitation as you could ever want. I knelt right behind her, lined up the head of my cock to her opening as slid in to her hot, wet sex. I didn't exactly ram it in, but I didn't hold back either. I pushed right on in, taking the measure of her in one steady thrust. It was like wet velvet, the way her pussy felt as it caressed my cock. She felt like she'd been molded around my dick, that's how snug she felt. And she was just wet enough to make passage easy without being sloppy. That would come later. "Mmmmmmmmm, glood," I thought I heard Mirabel exclaim through the mouthful of dick she was working between her lips. "Mmmgifl." I took that to mean I was hitting the right spots, but truthfully, this was all about getting pleasure for myself. This woman -- this stranger -- had offered herself to us, and I was going to take what she was offering. And if she got anything out of it, fine, but that wasn't what was most important to me. I had my hands on her hips and was settled in to an easy rhythm -- back and forth, around and around -- working my cock in time to the back thrusts of her ass. I was staring as she sucked, licked, kissed and otherwise worshipped Nick's cock with her mouth. I swept my gaze down her back, down to her succulent ass, and saw the winking little brown-eye right between the crevasse of her buttocks. If I hadn't been tripping, I might not have had the guts to try it, but it was Carnival, and I was buzzed about as high as I'd ever been, with no inhibitions and, apparently, no limits. Somewhere in my consciousness, I heard the sounds of the others in the room: the squeals of the couple with the gas as they neared an explosive climax, the slurping of the lesbians in the other corner, the groans and gasps of Mirabel's cousin and her lover on the sofa across the room. It was all combining to form an assault on my senses, and in the heightened awareness, I could feel the energy of the room spurring me on, and the sound of the band blasting through the room also added fuel to the cosmic fire that was roaring at white-hot intensity. Without giving the matter any further thought, I planted a big spit wad on Mirabel's asshole and began to finger fuck her back side. She pulled her face off Nick's lap long enough to turn around and fix me with a Mona Lisa smile, which I took as encouragement. Her eyes, though, were haunting, as she worked her hips back in time to my continuing thrusts. "I think I've died and gone to heaven, bro," Nick gasped. "That is primo head." "Wait'll you get your dick in this pussy," I said. "Nectar of the gods." With that, Nick pulled Mirabel's mouth off his cock, and I slid my dick out of her clenching pussy. As she climbed on the chair to straddle Nick's hips, she looked back at me with an almost detached look, but -- again -- her eyes were blazing with some heat that I really didn't understand. I was just going with the flow. "You going to fuck my ass?" she said, with just a hint of a pant that told me she was seriously aroused. "That's what you want, isn't it?" I said. "You wanted to fuck both of us, didn't you?" "Mmmmmm, yeaaaah," she panted as she sank down on Nick's hard cock and began to ride him in a slow, sensual manner. I could see her little starfish winking at me as she worked herself up and down on Nick's dick, inviting me to play, and play I did. I reached down with a couple of fingers and scooped up some of the juice that was flowing out of her pussy onto Nick's balls and used that to ease passage into her ass. I used my left hand to keep my cock at a high state of readiness and used the first two fingers of my right hand to open up her anus. When I had her open enough, in my judgment, I aimed the head of my cock at her glistening hole. Mirabel threw her head back, then reached behind her body with both hands and pulled her butt cheeks open. "Ahhh, God, fuck my ass, Paul," she gasped. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuuuuuck me!" Carefully, I pushed forward until suddenly the head of my cock penetrated her sphincter and I was in her hot horny hole. I slid right in all the way to the hilt in one smooth plunge, and it was like Mirabel had taken hold of a live wire. She started thrashing and moaning in an almost delirious state, and we were quickly in the same frenzy. I could tell this wasn't the first time this woman had taken a cock in her ass, far from it. She accepted me back there like a ... well, like a pro. In fact, looking back on it, I was pretty sure she'd done the DP thing before as well, because she got right in the rhythm like she knew what she was doing. As for me, it was kind of weird, to feel the vibrations of Nick's cock through a membrane of skin, but as I said before, I was just going with the flow. I actually think the acid in my system was helping my control, because I was so high I couldn't really think about what I was doing; it was all just a physical reaction. But something had to give, and when I felt Mirabel shudder from head to toe in an orgasm that had to be a catharsis of some sort, I felt the cum explode deep in my scrotum. Seconds later, I heard Nick gasp, "I'm cuuuuuummmmiiiiiiinnnn'." I could actually feel the swelling of his cock and spasms of his climax, even as I lost what little control I had left and basted Mirabel's rectum with a rocky load of cum that had been building up for several days. I just kept pumping and pumping, even after I'd delivered all the cum I had to give, until you could almost feel a collective sigh as the rush passed and we all three relaxed as one. After a minute or so, my cock finally softened to where it squirted out of Mirabel's ass, followed by a river of semen, and seconds later I watched, fascinated, as Nick's cock oozed from the woman's dilated pussy and cum poured out of that hole, as well. Mardi Gras Madness I staggered back, suddenly thirsty as hell, craving a cold beer. I wasn't quite prepared for what happened next. Mirabel casually stood up, adjusted the masque on her face and strolled nonchalantly toward the door. Just before she opened it, she turned toward us and smiled that ironic, Mona Lisa smile that had beguiled me all night -- in fact, it still haunts me to this day. "Thanks, guys, that was great," she said, then walked out the door, either oblivious or not caring that she still had cum dripping from both holes. Nick and I just stared at each other as if to say, "What the fuck just happened?" Just then, Desiree stood up and followed her out the door, leaving an equally bewildered lover-of-the-moment lying wrecked on the sofa. I just shrugged my shoulders and reached for my shorts and the faux Roman belt that was my costume. By the way, the couple with the gas were now fucking, rutting on the floor like pigs, and the lesbian couple were still rolling on the floor in the same 69 they'd been engaged in the whole time we were in there. As we passed back into the din of the party, Nick and I once again looked at each other, then started chuckling, shaking our heads in wonderment. We never again saw Mirabel -- if that was even her name -- or her cousin, and, trust me, we looked. In the immediate aftermath, I was too caught up in the general revelry of Mardi Gras to think much about the possible long-term consequences of our encounter with the mystery woman from the Krewe of Cooze Ball. But after Ash Wednesday, when I'd had a little time to think about it, I wondered about what might have provoked someone to act the way this woman had, and it dawned on me that she could have had a more sinister motive for behaving as she did. So I made an appointment to see a doctor for a blood test, and encouraged Nick to do the same. Fortunately, our tests came up negative, meaning the woman didn't pass anything on to us from our anonymous encounter. Still, Mirabel scarred me in some ways. I started thinking seriously about life in general, and sex in particular, and I realized that we'd been playing a game of sexual Russian Roulette with our single-minded pursuit of strange pussy. We'd been lucky so far, but who knew when our luck would run out. And, of course, I never quite forgot those eyes, and the way she looked at me. There was a reason why she chose us -- me in particular -- for her little Mardi Gras tryst, and I would have loved to have learned that reason. I think in other circumstances she and I may have developed a relationship, but maybe that's just me engaging in wishful thinking. The events of 9-11 not long after that really sobered me up, because I knew a girl who was killed in one of the towers. We'd had the same major and were the same year, so we had several classes together and had become friendly, even slept together a couple of times, although nothing more had developed. I resolved to do something a little more productive with my life, and, fortunately, early in 2002, I met a woman from Alexandria who was a phlebotomist at one of the hospitals there. We feel in love, and I moved to Alexandria to be with her, so I missed Katrina. Nick kind of soured on New Orleans too, for different reasons, and he moved back to his hometown in Maryland. We stay in touch, but we're not as close as we were. He's still a bit of a party animal, and I'm now married with two small children. I still think about that night at the Krewe of Cooze Ball, though, especially when I need a fantasy to give me a little extra jolt in bed. It was quite an experience, a true Mardi Gras moment, and I think I'll probably remember it until the day I die. ^ ^ ^ ^ Author's postscript: I dreamed up this little stroke story while driving home from a weekend trip to New Orleans I took in late March 2008. I wandered into one of the many shops near the French Market that specialize in Louisiana-themed products, and saw a Mardi Gras poster from 2007 that had a drawing of a woman who was body-painted like the woman in this story. The Krewe of Cooze Ball is based on a real event, the MOMS Ball, MOMS standing (I believe) for Mystic Order of Misfits. I'm not sure if the revelry quite reaches the level of debauchery described here, but it's pretty close. It's very reminiscent of the Acid Tests of the mid-1960s in San Francisco, or at least it was when I attended back in the early 1980s. I am not advocating illegal drug use by including a roomful of acidheads in the story; I simply used that as a plot vehicle that was appropriate for a work of erotic fiction. A couple of terminology definitions for those not familiar with New Orleans: First, the Irish Channel is a working-class neighborhood tucked in between the Warehouse District and Uptown, and between St. Charles Avenue and the Mississippi River. It is so named because it was the area where Irish immigrants settled in the 19th century. Also, Mid-City is a neighborhood between the Vieux Carre and Lake Pontchartrain, encompassing an area from Tulane Avenue to Elysian Fields Avenue (maybe the coolest street name in the country) and including Canal Street. Second, the term "Yat" is a reference to a native New Orleanian and comes from the phrase, "where y'at," which is local lingo for "hello, how are you." Finally, I was encouraged by the progress the city is making in its recovery from the ravages of Hurricane Katrina. While New Orleans will never be the same as it was before the storm, it is still one of America's most unique cities, it is still worth visiting and the city needs the support.