LESTAT

The Tale of Baba Márie

     After Lestat left Baba Márie, he went to his crypt in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1, retiring for slumber. What he had just done with Baba Márie had him feeling more human than ever before. As Lestat laid down, he smiled, licking his lips. "Baba Márie!", he exclaimed out loud, closing his eyes happily. Lestat's thoughts of Baba Márie's blood had him riled up. Where had this impeccable creature come from?
    Back on her end, Baba Márie felt like the most desirable woman ever; that is how Lestat made her feel. Her last lover, Jean Luc, had been the only man who had ever made her feel good, but his heart wasn't strong enough to deal with her lineage, and what she as a Hoodooienne had to do. Jean Luc stood six feet five, burly, strong, handsome. A pillar of strength, owing his looks to his grandfather, the infamous Jean Lafitte, who couldn't resist the beautifully exotic Creole quadroons of New Orleans. All  of that, and still Jean Luc wasn't man enough to stay. Baba Márie cursed him that day, glad to be rid of the dead weight.
    Now, many townsmen tried for her, but Baba Márie did not even give them the time of day, going about her business as the Cursed One, hauntingly beautiful, powerfully seductive. The men she would feast upon occasionally were personally hand picked, and after having a taste of Baba Márie, these men would have fever dreams of her, providing her a portal to enter their minds and continue ravaging them, her lust for their souls omnipresent. Baba Márie would own them, and leave satisfied. Her wild ways caused many a rift between well married quadroon couples of good name and standing, the men leaving their beautiful wives at home to run to Baba Márie, the brown skinned enchantress.
    Now, it was Lestat whom had her opened, the thought of his love driving Baba Márie mad with desire. She paced around her home, the vision of their love making replaying itself over and over.
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     Lestat walked around his dark chamber, his mouth watering, remembering Baba Márie's taste. He was lost in thought when the sound of Marius's laugh brought him back. "You look distracted, Lestat!", teased Marius, raising his eyebrow. Lestat smiled, then sat down on his leather chair. "Could it be because of Baba Márie?" , asked Marius, causing Lestat to straighten at the sound of her name. "What do you know of her?", asked Lestat, a look of seriousness upon his face.
    Marius smiled, then sensing the better of ways to tell his tale, began to talk. "Baba Márie's family came here to New Orleans from the mother continent over five hundred years ago, when she was nothing but a mere babe. It was said that her grandfather became one of the great Marie Laveau's  lovers, and that Marie had taken a liking to little Baba Márie, and chose her to learn her secrets. Baba Márie was already learned in the ways of her people as a child, and Marie Laveau's teachings only made her all the more powerful!", said Marius, crossing his legs. Lestat noticed how feminine his maker would be, yet manly, at the same time.
    Marius continued, saying, "Our dear, sullen Armande came across Baba Márie not that long ago....perhaps she's told you this tale before?" Lestat laughed, his fangs showing. "We haven't been doing much... talking!", replied Lestat, a pleasantly devious smile upon his face.
    Marius smiled, his eyeteeth showing, thinking Lestat was enjoying himself too much. He could tell Lestat had been with Baba Márie by the way his skin looked alive. It was said that that Hoodooienne was a succubus, and could bring even dead men like them to life with her love. Armande had had a tumultuous love affair with Baba Márie, but her bringing him to life was the cause of his undoing. Crazed by her love and what it did to him, Armande thought he could walk in the sun, and tried to do so, getting burned very badly. He needed immediate treatment and Baba Márie cared for him, nursing his burns, letting him drink from her one last time to heal himself completely. When Armande reached his full handsome glory, Baba Márie left him, wanting her desperately. She put charms and spells to keep him away, with a heavy heart.
    Armande had told his tale to Marius, hoping he would never have to encounter such maddening pain, and now Lestat was in danger of overindulgence of the witch. Marius watched Lestat lick his lips, lost in thought of Baba Márie, and found himself envious of him. He had never got the chance to live again through Baba Márie's sex magic, and now, here his child was, the vixen making him love her.
      Lestat noticed Marius's demeanor, and said, "Worry not about me! I have no ill feelings towards Armande!", he said, reading Marius's thoughts. "What Baba Márie makes me feel is unlike anything I've ever known, in life nor death! You can't expect me to stay away from that!", exclaimed Lestat, disappearing, leaving Marius alone.
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      Lestat felt such a hunger, he grabbed the first person he could find, the unlucky tourist hopelessly drunk, following the sexy creature like a puppy into a darkened alley. Lestat drank his fill from the young woman's neck and let her drop. He felt a desire unlike anything he'd ever had before, wanting Baba Márie. She suddenly appeared then, a vision of loveliness. "Lestat!", she said, sexily, backing him up against the brick wall of a courtyard. Her long brown hair fell upon her ample bosom, and Lestat couldn't look away. Lestat felt himself rise as he looked down at Baba Márie, who knelt before him and began to unzip his pants.
   Lestat smiled down at her, his fangs sexy. Baba Márie slid his erect penis into her mouth, instantly making him hers. Lestat moaned in ecstasy as Baba Márie gave him her throat, the New Orleans night air heavily hanging with desire. Lestat wanted to be inside of her, so he pulled her up with his superspeed and held her against a wall as he hungrily stuffed himself inside of her wetness, the intensity of her pussy overwhelming him. Baba Márie cried out in pleasure as she held onto Lestat for dear life as he thrust up into her, his penis immaculate.
    The sounds of Baba Márie's moans and Lestat's grunts of pleasure could be heard twisting in the wind, the magic of the city coming to life through their actions. Lestat thrust into Baba Márie, looking into her eyes. He soon lost consciousness, and recovered to find himself undressed, on top of Baba Márie's wondrous, naked body, nestled in her bed, and continued to make love to her as she grabbed his ass to pull him in deeper.
    The scent of Baba Márie's exotic blood was too much for him, and Lestat bit down into her neck, his mouth clamped to her flesh. Baba Márie's nipples hardened, the feel of Lestat's bite as crucial as his love. She wrapped her legs around him, giving him access to all of her insides. Lestat worked his way to a thunderous orgasm, his come spewing like the famous daiquiri machines beloved by New Orleanians. Baba Márie let herself go, and came hard on his staff, coating it with her juices.
    Lestat held Baba Márie to him, his newly beating heart filling with the strangest sensation. Baba Márie looked into Lestat's eyes, touching his face gingerly. Her touch felt good, and Lestat smiled at her sexily, the sight of his eyeteeth turning Baba Márie on. She had just experienced such passion with Lestat, and suddenly she found herself wanting more,  needing to feel him inside of her again.
     As Baba Márie straddled him, Lestat asked, "Want more?", sexily, his fangs making him all the more fuckable. Baba Márie sat onto his erection, giving him another taste of ecstasy. As Baba Márie moved on top of him, Lestat released a curdling howl of pleasure, the sound filling the night.