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Fantasy #24: Joan d'Blon's
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Fantasy #24
Joan d'Blon's
When I was 18, three of my friends and I decided to go to New
Orleans for the Mardi Gras. During our drive from Dallas, we
went through the bayou country and early in the morning came
to the town of Opelousas, La. The fun began when we stopped
for a red light in the heart of the central business district.
Tony Magneto, a street wise merchant marine, was with us and
he rolled down a window and spoke to an elderly gentleman in a
car which was stopped adjacent to ours. Tony asked him, "Where
is the local whorehouse?"
I nearly died of fright and was sure that we would be
arrested, but to my surprise, the Cajun laughed and gave us
directions to Joan d'Blon's.
Somewhere along the way we got lost and asked an old black
gentleman with a long white beard if he knew of Joan d'Blon.
He slapped his legs and cackled and pointed us in the right
direction. At this juncture, we knew we were on to something
great!
His directions led us across the tracks and down the bayou.
We drove up to a large rambling house situated in a copse of
live oak trees covered with Spanish Moss.
Upon entering, we found ourselves in a large room with six
sofas lining the walls and there was a juke box in one of the
corners. There was an alcove to one side and when we went
inside, we found a bar. A huge guy with a police badge on his
chest and a revolver on his hip asked us what we wanted.
Tony said, "We want to fuck!", and the bartender said, "You
came to the right place, let me call my wife, Joan."
Joan, a blonde, came in and led us back to the living room.
Joan (Joan d'Blon) then called for the girls. A bevy of 12
women came into the room wearing attire that ranged from
evening gowns to bras and panties. There were blondes,
brunettes, and redheads. They were young and mature, skinny
and chubby short and tall, shy and outgoing - and every one
of them were sexy as hell!
Joan told us to dance and to talk with the girls and to take
our time in making our selection.
Well, let me tell you, this was no prom dance! In addition
to their provocative attire, each of the girls
were more than willing to cleave their bodies to ours and to
say lascivious things to us that we had never heard from the
lips of girls.
We changed partners frequently and with each new girl, I got
harder and harder until Sally reached down and grabbed my cock
and said, "Oh good, you're ready! Let's go fuck!"
She led me to her room and undressed revealing a 36-26-36 body
and her pubic hair was shaved into the shape of a heart!
She undressed me and then checked out my cock.
Sally told me that while she had many clients each day, she
always tried to enjoy the first one before she became sated.
She laughingly asked me if I minded doing a 69 with her. I was
very naive and told her I didn't understand. She explained and
since I had once kissed a teenage friend's pussy (and liked
it), I said, "Sure!, let's go!"
After bringing each other off, we relaxed a minute while she
told me how she got into this "fun" business - but that's
another story for another day. We went on to make love again,
this time with her getting on top of me.
That was my first experience with the girl on top and I loved
every delectable moment of it! Afterwards, Sally used some
warm towels to wash us off and then gave me a shot of brandy
to put the lead back into my pencil.
I floated out of Joan d'Blon's that day and finally made it to
the Mardi Gras but I never matched the thrill of that
marvelous day in Opelousas!
I did return several times, but each visit would be a story
unto itself and I may recount them if there is any continued
interest.
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