A few weeks back I was out at a concert at Preservation Hall with some friends.

I wasn’t really into it, so just as the Dixieland band of geezers started playing I slipped out for a smoke. I stepped into the street and almost bumped right into Chantal, a friend of a friend I’d met a few times.

Chantal was a wacky artist chick with pale skin and Morticia Addams hair. Her real name was Susan, and underneath all that goth was a suburban girl from Michigan. While some of my friends made fun of her, I thought she was incredibly cool and sexy. That night she was wearing a little black dress that hugged every part of her.

We shared a smoke and she told me about some pieces she’d been working on. “You know I live around the corner, right?” she said. “If you want to come up for a few minutes, I can show you my new sculptures.”

Chantal lived in one of those classic French Quarter buildings with rotting balconies and a steep wooden staircase that seemed ready to collapse. Her apartment was a studio painted blue and gold with twisted metal sculptures on the floor and rows of bizarre Mardi Gras masks on the walls.

She walked into her kitchen and poured us two big glasses of wine.

“What do you like better, to laugh or to cry?” she asked, handing me a wineglass. Then she put the laughing mask on my face and the crying mask on hers.

The balcony doors were wide-open, there was music and noise coming from the street, someone outside strummed an electric guitar, and Chantal started to dance. After a few minutes, she shimmied out of her dress and kicked it away. Her body was pale, thin, and smooth, yet still curvy. She had a small, firm ass that she knew how to wiggle. As I watched her swaying in her black lace bra and panties, my dick pressed hard into the zipper of my pants. 

Chantal sauntered over to me, unbuttoned my shirt, lightly dragged her long nails down my chest, and rubbed her bare skin against mine. Who was this freak? I was totally into her.

She pulled back our masks and kissed me, snaking her tongue in my mouth. She began licking from my chest to my stomach, then took my rock-hard cock into her mouth and down her throat. She gobbled my balls and licked my sweaty taint, moaning and groaning as if it felt better for her than it did for me. When she wriggled out of her panties I saw a big black bush against her pale white skin, with just a hint of glistening pink pussy lips.

“You want to play with my kitty?” she asked.

“Be naughty with my kitty?”

She led me by my dick over to the bed. On the bedpost hung another mask, a black cat with white eyes and whiskers. Chantal put on the mask, scampered onto the bed on all fours, and aimed her beautiful ass and bush at me.

I wasted no time, climbing onto the bed and sticking my cock into her from behind as she groaned and howled with every thrust. I grabbed her long black hair and yanked as she arched her spine. I fucked her faster and deeper, using her ass as leverage while grabbing handfuls of her hair. As she fucked me back I could feel her clench her pussy around my cock. When she came, she trembled so hard the bed shook.

Afterward, Chantal turned on her back and lifted her feet to my shoulders, and I fucked her even harder, all while looking at that black cat mask. Just when I pulled out to shoot my load, she dug her long sharp nails into my legs, and I cried out from a mixture of pain and ecstasy.

I stood over Chantal in her mask, admiring the pool of come on her tits and belly, thinking this had been the greatest fuck of my life. Just then she jumped up, pulled off the mask, and ran into the bathroom. “You can go now,” she said over her shoulder before closing the door.

When I got back to Preservation Hall, my friends were just leaving and wondered where the fuck I’d been. “I just needed some air,” I said.

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