I have to admit I do have a thing for packing my jeans. Oh, not all the time. Not even most of the time. But its true, I do enjoy it! I would never have even thought of doing it pryor to knowing Chris. But one night, we were out at Peanuts together. While I was absorbed in the drag show, she casually moved behind me and placing her hands on both my hips, pulled me back into her as she bumped her pelvis up against me. That's when I felt a hard bulge pushing against my ass! It caught me so by surprise, I think I let out a squeal like a total girl! Then, every time she did it, for the rest of the night, I could only giggle, and probably turn beet red, while looking around to see if anyone else had seen. This was a brand new game!

In case you are confused... I'm talking about a "strap-on." That's a leather strap with a fake dick attached! You know, a dildo... a phallus or - my personal favorite name for it when I wear one - my cock! Anyway, Chris was wearing one under her jeans!

You might think... Wait! If a guy were to walk around with a huge boner in his pants, he'd be embarrassed about it, right? But Chris isn't a guy. And it certainly wasn't an accident nor something she couldn't control. Embarrassed? Not a chance! Confident! She wore her shirt untucked but even if somebody had seen it - laughing would have been the last thing they felt like doing. Envy, would be more likely. As for what it did for me... I just wanted to get the hell out of there and get back to my bed so she could show me what she was really wanting to do! This was a total turn on!

There is a restaurant next door to Peanuts that we used to go to often, after the bar closed. It's a charming place called the French Marketplace. I haven't been there in years but I remember it very well. There's a restaurant that has seating outdoors along the sidewalk, and inside there's a spiral staircase that has a seating area on a circular platform half a story up. Surrounding the seating area, there are small shops and businesses. The entire interior is reminiscent of New Orleans' french quarter.

One night. We were having a bite to eat after leaving the bar. We had also been teasing each other the whole evening and we just had to get our hands on each other. The resaurant was full of people, laughing and chattering about their evening. Without words, we both got up at the same time and weaved our way through the tables toward the back. On the right side was a short corridor where there were some payphones on the left, and restrooms on the right. We entered the womens restroom and were kissing and grappling at each others clothes by the time we pushed ourselves into the first stall.

It's funny, the things we remember... I remember the smell of their restrooms always smelled like vanilla and roses. A truly lovely smell - not some horrible bathroom spray. My whole life since, I've always associated that scent with what I thought the French Quarter and/or Paris would smell like.

Chris and I had been grappling with each other for a good few minutes, making grunting and smacking and various other noises when the toilet flushed in the stall next to us. We stopped breathing, holding ourselves in the exact position we had been in when we first heard it, and listened silently while the stall door next to us opened. We heard the footsteps, the tap from the sink, the towel dispenser, more footsteps, and finally, the door opening then slowly... ever so slowly, close again.

Finally we breathed. Even more in need of each other than first we had entered, we took our deep breaths, got a grip, and put our clothes back in order. I will never forget the surreal feeling I had as we walked out of the corridor and, upon arriving at the tables, seeing how many faces turned up to look at us as the level of chatter reduced to almost nothing!

I've discussed that night with Chris many times since then, and although we both agree that the rational thing to believe is that it was all in our imagination. I mean, c'mon! What are the odds that the unknown person in the stall next to us could possibly have come out and announced to everyone, what she had just witnessed? It HAD to be our imaginations! Either way, it sure felt real to us both.

The really strange thing about it was that above and beyond that feeling of embarassement, there was an even stronger feeling that took precedence ... Pride.