"Pace"

 Mardi Gras, New Orleans
Fat Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A cold evening, near freezing

Thousands enjoy a hardy party
Costumes of every possible variety
Consuming Cuervo, Daniel's, Bacardi

She, with a group, all in dress
Drover coats to stop the coldness
Laughing and drinking, no stress

Singled me out, lifting her mask
Offers me a drink from a shiny flask
Asks, with a grin, 'Are you up to the task'

Grabbed my arm and pulled me aside
Giggling and sipping with every stride
To a dark alley, hell of a place to hide

Another swig, a half drunk, sloppy kiss
Then facing the wall I release a colossal piss
I turn around, her coat lifted and a sultry, 'Hit this'

With greedy speed, I nod, having no doubt
'Hell yes,' eager to end a week long drought
She bends over, reaching thru, spreading about

Entering her snug bloom, no cover, no plan
Her tight, white hot, is more than I can stand
I begin thinking, 'No three stroke poke, man'

Controlling my want, slowing the pace
She leans back hard, engulfing every trace
I wish for a mirror, wanting to see her face

Sighs of pleasure echo in that narrow pass
'No cream pie,' she quips with liquored class
Now the plan, 'I'll cum all over your ass'

She shudders, constricts, shouts, delivers
Never before had I seen it flow like rivers
Her clam steaming in the cold, she shivers

Breathing, 'In my ass,' enticing words as verse
Backing up, I withdraw, ready to immerse
Penetrating, salivating into her prison-purse

She works her buns, propelling in circular motion
This technique, so stimulating, sealing my notion
I open the valve, filling her interior with lotion

It was the coldest Mardi Gras I had ever attended
One woman from the crowd, unabashedly splendid
Remembering her fondly, lucky to be apprehended