She started to open the door and call him back. What was the use? Unless le was calling him back to give him his fuck, why call to him? The lovely blonde walked to the couch and sat down, disgusted with herself. She should have given him some pussy. She would have eagerly, except for too many memories. She had been hurt too deeply to let herself get caught up in another relationship like that one. No, Brent could accept her as she was or he could walk out of her life. She didn't want another affair like the one she had finally gotten over. No way!

Yet she was letting this stranger slowly remove her clothing as his cock now waved before her eyes. The blonde looked at her hands as they pumped the big pecker. When had she unbuckled his belt and opened his pants? She couldn't remember exactly. She held the hot prick, letting its glowing heat excite her hands while he stripped her panties from her legs and pushed his face between her thighs.

She should have refused Marianne when the brunette suggested this trip. She had told the girl about her problem with Brent. They sat at their booth during lunch while the blonde related the problem of an adoring boy friend who had the hots for her pussy. Marianne had reached across the table and laid her hand on top of the blonde's.

"What you need," she smiled, "is a break. You need to get away from it for a few days. I was thinking of asking you to fly down to New Orleans with me this weekend. Ever been to Mardi Gras?"

"To what?" Sheri looked at the brunette questioningly. She had heard of the quaint celebration the Southern duty put on once a year. Somewhere, way back, she vaguely recalled a movie about it. It had never seemed to her, though, that it was anything worth taking a trip to see.