The next morning her head felt like it was the size of a basketball. Sheri looked at her companion with agonizing eyes. Marianne laughed, then insisted that they dress and go down for a quick breakfast.
"I'd suggest a Bloody Mary instead of juice," the brunette laughed. "You'd better get a little support in you before that head blows apart."
The young blonde let herself be talked into a second French pastry with her coffee. She finally felt some return to normal as she sat in the small courtyard listening to Marianne rave on and on about the sexual prowess of the husky young man the night before. Sheri shuddered at the conversation, but failed in her attempts to change the subject. She would rather not remember her own weakness last night. She had come down to get some sort of perspective, not to hop in the sack with the first man that came along. The blonde felt dirty because of letting him fuck her. She should not have allowed it. She should never have let him come into her hotel with her. The fact that she had responded to his cock, the fact that she had enjoyed the hell out of being fucked made her feel even dirtier. What kind of girl was she, anyway?
They finished their coffee and wandered about the dirty streets, smelling the heavy scent of roasting coffee from along the river. The scents, the sounds, the casual frivolity of the city gradually permeated her. Sheri shook off her depression and walked through the small shops along Chartres Street, enjoying the balmy Southern day. They ended up just before noon at Jackson Square. The fence was covered with art displays as the artists stood about the sidewalk, hawking their work. Along the front of the cathedral were various groups of musicians playing in frantic competition. What they lacked in artistic ability they tried to make up in fervor and volume. Sheri laughed as the sound of a steam calliope cut over all the din. A steamboat on the river had joined in the general melee and its whistling tune carried the day before the hapless musicians.
Marianne led her down the sidewalk, studying the painting. The young blonde walked about, amazed at the prices. When she had furnished her apartment, she had paid more for prints than these people were asking for original art. She stood and watched one of the men sitting on his small stool and sketching the intricate details of a shrimp boat. He looked up and smiled warmly, then returned his concentration to his art.
Sheri glanced up to see Marianne in deep conversation with a bearded artist whose eyes were glowing as they roved over the ample figure of the brunette. He gave Marianne a few of the most suggestive looks Sheri could imagine as he talked rapidly. His hands gestured about, then came to rest on the buxom girl's shoulders, leading her over to view samples of his work. The blonde watched the body language he used, watched the play of his eyes. She saw the glow which came over Marianne's face, the way her friend began to lean those massive tits against him. The brunette turned to look for her and waved Sheri over to join them.
"I want you to meet Ramon. He's going to do my portrait. I'll be here for a while, so make yourself at home around the Square."
The expression in the artist's eyes told Sheri that he was sorry he hadn't gotten her instead of her friend. She laughed at him, then smiled her agreement to Marianne and walked on. She planned to make a slow circle of the Square, perhaps stop for another cup of coffee, then get back about the time Marianne was finished. A half-block later she was standing in front of another display when she felt eyes studying her body. A slow tingle crept down her shoulders and ran through her tits. The tingling sensation continued through her, setting her pussy aglow before it sparkled along her thighs. The blonde looked up quickly and into the dazzling blue eyes of a smiling man beside her.
"If I can help you, let me know," he told her, his eyes meeting her with honest adoration. They stood looking at each other until Sheri suddenly began to feel uncomfortable. He was looking at her like he wanted to eat her, like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen. She blushed openly before his gaze.
"With the paintings," he continued, his head inclining towards the display. His eyes, however, sent another message. They told of a preference to help her in some other, more personal and intimate way. Sheri struggled to turn from the eyes and look at his art. She stepped closer and pretended to study one of the paintings closely.
"One of the old masters had someone once look at his work like that," the man told her. "He had a comment for them. He told them that art was for viewing, not for smelling."
Sheri laughed and turned towards him. His eyes laughed lightly, warmly at her. He was teasing her, seeing how she would respond to such an insult. The blonde laughed back. No way would she let him get her upset. She stepped back beside him and let him explain his work. He used a trowel, he insisted. He couldn't find a palette knife large enough for his purposes at the art-supply stores so he went to the hardware store and bought trowels. The blonde stood with him, fascinated with his approach and with his openness. She studied him more closely. He was older than she had first assumed. He was probably over forty and well tanned from spending his days out in the sun. His small ad for himself that he had hung in the midst of his paintings told of years in the military. He had retired on disability and turned from warrior to artist. The blonde wondered what disability he had as she watched him sell a painting to a couple who had just walked up. He gave them a brochure on his work, then came back to her.
"I've made my expenses for the day," he smiled. "What say we go for a cup of coffee?"
It was the most normal thing in the world to accept the offer. She accepted so smoothly that she didn't really realize it until they were walking down the street, and in arm. The blonde enjoyed the great tinge, however. Everyone seemed to know him. All the driven of the horse-drawn buggies that plied the French Quarter waved as they passed, then turned and said something to their passengers, who all stared at the two of them as the buggy moved slowly on along Decatur Street.
"By the way," he said as he ushered her into a bar, "my name is Roy. Roy Shelton."
"Sheri McAlister," she answered, then looked questioningly at going to a bar for coffee. She saw him laugh at her confusion, then motion to the bartender.
"Two coffees," he ordered, then held a chair for her to sit at a small table. He stepped to the bar and picked up their coffee. Sheri smiled up at him as he sat across from her. The coffee had been laced with brandy, giving extra, body to the normally strong and heavy New Orleans blend. The blonde sat back and let the glow run through her body. She accepted a second coffee as she listened to Roy's running comments on the life of a Jackson Square artist. They were a mixture of real talent and carnival types. The girl was fascinated by his stories. She drank a third coffee without realizing she had finished her second. When he led her from the bar and turned her down a side street towards his apartment, she went along with him readily.
Roy had her charmed. She'd never met such a man of the world. He had been everywhere, had done almost everything. He could have settled for a soft life on his retirement pay, but had preferred exploring all sorts of new and intriguing lives. He'd been a carnival barker. He'd been a comedian at one of the Bourbon Street bars. He'd tried various business adventures. Roy wasn't sure how long he would stay at his art. Until something else seemed more interesting, she supposed.
He unlocked his door and led her into the apartment. The blonde followed meekly as he drew her back to his bedroom and began caressing her. Later she might wonder how it had all happened. At the time it seemed the only normal thing to do. His hand came beneath her blouse and cupped over her tits while his cock pressed hard and throbbing against her body. He lifted his thigh between her legs and rubbed it over her pussy until she was panting from the excitement. His mouth covered her lips. His tongue leaped into her mouth and lapped possessively at her. The blonde shivered from his touch, from the authority with which he assumed her willingness to fuck him. The force of his personality overwhelmed her, making it impossible for her to consider anything but submission to his plans.
"You're lovely," he whispered. "You're absolutely gorgeous. If anyone had told me this morning I'd have such a beautiful piece of pussy by lunchtime, I'd have called him a liar."
He rubbed his cock against her, then lifted her blouse and kissed her tits through the bra. His fingers felt about behind her, then softly unhooked the bra and pulled it away to expose the satin flesh of her tits to his kisses. He sucked on each nipple, his tongue delighting in the way it hardened almost immediately. Sheri stood frozen as he caressed her and began removing her clothes. The brandy on top of the Bloody Mary was too much far her to resist. Her body seemed to be floating as the blouse came off, followed by the bra. He slipped her slacks down her legs and looked at her adoringly before reaching for the tiny green panties. She could see the frantic throbbing inside his pants as his cock responded to her beauty. His hands were trembling as they pulled the soft nylon down her thighs. They caressed along her legs, then slipped back up to cuddle her butt. He knelt before her and kissed her thighs and pussy.
"How lovely!" he panted. "How absolutely lovely." He lifted her in his arms and carried her the few steps to the bed. She felt the soft spread beneath her ass as he laid her down and kissed her from head to foot. Her body became a mass of luxurious shivers beneath his lips. He kissed her tits. He kissed her navel. He kissed her thighs. He kissed her pussy. He sucked quickly, striding a sudden spasm of pleasure through her. Then he stood up and began removing his own clothing. His cock reared up in shimmering splendor as he dropped his shorts and stood smiling down at her. The artist fingered his glowing cock fondly his eyes looking greedily over her lovely young body. She watched him pump his prick in preparation. She saw him swallow to cool the hot, dry feeling in his throat. She lay waiting as he stepped back to the bed and climbed in beside her.
"Mmmm," she sighed as his arms came about her, pulling her against him. "Ooohhh, you look like you're hung well enough to give a good fuck."
"Never had a complaint," he laughed. "Shit, I've fucked everything from chorus girls to generals' wives. Never had anything but thanks from them." He was all over her, his hands working wildly on her body. Her tits felt his rough passion as he pulled and rolled them about. Her pussy shuddered as a big finger came into the cunt-mouth and pressed demandingly on her clit. The blonde shuddered and reached her soft hands down his body until she was able to grasp his big, angry cock. She held it tightly, pushing the skin along the shaft and fingering his balls.
"Mmmm," she moaned as his intensity increased. "Mmmmm, you're getting me turned on awfully fast."
She was responding rapidly. Her pussy was pouring its lubricant along the tender passage. Her tits lunged against the hands that were driving them into such ecstasy. His thumb taunted her nipples as he fucked his finger along her pussy with increasing fervor.
"Baum!" he muttered. "You're a hot little cunt. You're about as hot as I am. Maybe we can take a long easy fuck later. Right now, I've got to get busy and blow off this big wad that's building in my balls."
"All right by me," Sheri panted in a husky voice. "I'm ready to fuck anytime you are."
She couldn't believe she was saying it! She couldn't believe it anymore than she could believe that she had let herself be fucked last night, any more than she could understand how she let herself be led to this apartment so meekly while she knew exactly why they were coming here. This wasn't like her, wasn't like her at all. This couldn't be the girl who got so frightened when Brent wanted to fuck. This was more like the Sheri of two years ago, the Sheri who lived to fuck her man. This was the old Sheri, the fusty Sheri. This was the Sheri who died that night that her lover never came home.
"Ooooo, God! Yes!" she cried to him. "Fuck me! Fuck me, Roy! I want to feel this big cock in me! Mmmmmmmm!"
He pulled her onto her tummy, then lifted her hips until she was resting on her knees. His legs came in between her own, the cock driving between her thighs from the rear. His hands reached around her, one grasping her tits, the other fingering back into her pussy and driving her clit into shivering insanity. The blonde gasped for breath as the warm flesh of the cock rammed up against the door of her cunt. His breath came into her ear, his tongue licking it. His teeth caught her lobe lightly, then dropped down to take a firmer bite into her neck.
"Ooooo!" she gasped, wagging her ass against him to urge him on. "Ooooo, God! You're driving me crazy! Get it in me! Give me a cuntful of prick!"
She would have a hickie after this. The way he had clamped his teeth into her skin was sure to leave a bruise, a blood blister. It didn't matter, though. All that mattered right now was to get some relief for her overcharged pussy. She felt the cock-head slip into her cunt. He slipped his hand out of her pussy and pressed from the outside, catching her clit in a maddening squeeze between his cock on the inside and his finger on the outside. The blonde felt her body going into orbit with ecstasy. She was thrashing about the bed, shoving her smooth ass back against him and rolling her swollen tits against his hand. She wanted him to get the hell on with it and fuck her!
"Ooooo!" he panted as he gave a powerful thrust of his cock and drove it fully into her pussy. "Ahhhhh! That gets it in there. Now I've got that cunt under control. Now all I have to do is ride this sweet ass and fuck till I drop."
"Damn right!" she gasped in response. "Just get to fucking, Roy! Ooooo! Ummmmm!"
The great thrusts of his cock ignited her passion to greater heights. Her pussy shuddered along the plunging shaft of his cock. She could hear the soft slashing sound of the hard prick splashing through the lubricant. She heard the little "pop" of suction every time he drew his cock back for another ecstatic plunge.
"Mmmmmm!" she panted, fighting for oxygen. "Ooh! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Yessssss!"
"I'm fucking you, princess," he growled from behind her. "I'm fucking the sweetest pussy I ever dipped my cock into. Damn! I never knew a cunt could feel so soft and sweet around my cock."
His prick slowly increased its tempo as she felt her body soaring in delight. The room whirled about her. The bed was off somewhere in space.
She felt suspended in time, existing only through the luscious movements of the wildly lunging cock. She felt her orgasm surge through her pussy. She felt the sudden intense shuddering along the passage of her aunt. Then the lights exploded about her. She could hear him panting and gasping behind her as his cock went after her pussy with unbelievable intensity. She was exploding in her climax when he unloaded his jizz into her. The touch of the cum along her pussy increased her exquisite passion. She felt that if she received one bit more of pleasure, she would die, she would absolutely die.
"Aaaa!" she shrieked, as she took the full force of his passion. "Oooooeeeee! Ride me! Fuck me! Aaaa!"
"Ohhhh, uh!" he panted. His cock was a red-hot knife as it tore through her cunt. "Uhhhhh!"
They shuddered together in the final spasms of their climax, them collapsed onto the bed. He lay still, his hand still on her tit, his finger still just on top of her cunt. They lay there and glowed from the spent passion. Sheri heard a door open. She heard footsteps, then the bedroom door open.
"Well!" a female voice gasped. The blonde looked up. A slender red-haired woman was in the doorway, starring at them. Her arms were filled with assorted packages. Roy wiled over on his back. He sighed heavily.
"Sheri," he finally said, "I'd like you to meet my wife."