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Bourbon Street, New Orleans and Marti Gras was in full swing. Everywhere I turned there was something else to cause my eyes to widen even more. Men begging young ladies everywhere to show off their endowments in trade for a measly strand of beads. Every time someone wold agree to this trade a plethora of flashbulbs and video cameras would invariably seek out the exposed breasts capturing them for their owner's one handed desires. I saw women kissing men, women, breasts and the occasional cock for the desired strands of shiny plastic. The crowds of people were swaying to the music and the pressures of the masses. I was enthralled to be a part of the general melee drinking in the sights and smells of the pre-lent celebrations.

I wandered in and out of the dance clubs sucking down Hurricanes (the local drink of choice) and enjoying the view. My friends that I had come down with had decided to turn in early (3am!) but I was so full of energy sleep was out of the question. As I wandered further and further down the street and noticed a subtle change in the crowd, more and more of the couples I saw were of the same sex. I don't know why but the sight of men with men and women with women stirred something inside of me. Maybe it was the fact that I was from a small town and had little experience with same sex couples or maybe it was the vast quantities of the Hurricane rum mixture that I had consumed but I was enthralled.

I eagerly sought out the source of these newfound fascinations and dove ...

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