MANNING
I had been thinking way too much about my encounter with Kenna in New Orleans. Our encounter only involved oral sex, but I was wanting more. I didn’t know exactly what, but I was definitely willing to explore. I felt that she was a kindred spirit and was willing to let her freak flag fly in certain company.
We texted back and forth the week after the New Orleans “sexploits.” We decided to make a trip to the Dungeon on Toulouse Street, in the French Quarter. The Dungeon has an eclectic theme. It is a fusion of goth, pagan, and Wiccan. It has three levels, each a little eviler than the next.
We decided to meet in Covington because she lived in Alexandria. I picked her up at a little restaurant on my Harley. She evidently saw me coming and met me outside. She was wearing leather pants and a black t-shirt. She had a leather jacket slung across her shoulder. She was wearing laced up leather boots, that could have been best described as dominatrix boots.
She slung her leg over the sissy bar and straddled the seat. She scooted up close and planted her ample breast against my back and wrapped her arms around my waist. I twisted the throttle and popped the clutch. We were headed toward the “Big Easy.”
I pulled up to the toll booth at the Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, paid the five-dollar toll, and began the twenty-four-mile trip across the lake. It is a beautiful ride. As we were crossing, I began to recall a memory that happened several years ago with a former girlfriend. I began making plans for it to happen again, real soon.
We finally reached the end of the causeway and entered Metairie. I battle the traffic for about thirty minutes, and finally made it to the French Quarter, my second home. It took a while to find a parking place, but actually found one on St. Louis Street.
It was about 7 pm and it was hot and humid. We needed to find a bar and have a couple of cocktails while we killed a little time. The Dungeon doesn’t get busy until about 8 or 9 pm. I decided we should go to Pat O’Brien’s on St. Peter. They are the home of the Hurricane cocktail. One will make a grown man a little tipsy and two could make you write bad checks for a stripper named Jasmine.
Kenna had one Hurricane, but I had two. We just made small talk and I was looking forward to the night to come. We left Pat O’Brien’s and headed to The Dungeon. When you enter the club, the first thing you notice is the Pagan looking Goats head on the wall. The servers are dressed in skimpy, leather outfits. There are cages that people can sit in while they enjoy their cocktails. We took a seat in one of the cages drank another cocktail. I think it is going to be a good night.
KENNA
Manning had been on my mind ever since I left New Orleans. I swear some nights I woke up and I could feel his mouth on my pussy. As good as our time was it left me wanting more. Manning understood me in ways that few did. I knew he saw through the professional exterior and could see the person I really was.
My conversations with Manning continued. We discussed everything from events at work to what porn we were entertaining ourselves with. When Manning invited me to The Dungeon I never hesitated. I was looking forward to another rendezvous.
We made plans to meet at a little restaurant in Covington and finish our trip to New Orleans together. I knew he would be riding his Harley, and I will admit I was turned on and terrified. Leave it to me to be completely turned on by the biker persona and terrified of motorcycles. When I saw him pull into the restaurant parking lot, I walked out to meet him. When I saw his eyes roam my body all nerves for the ride were lost and replaced by satisfaction that we would be fucking this weekend.
I strolled to the motorcycle and placed my hand on Manning shoulder as I swung my leg over to straddle the seat. My mind flashed with images of me straddling Mannings as I slid closer to his body. My breast pressed into his back, and my nipples began to harden. My thighs were pressed to his hips as we set out on the road. The vibrations from the engine only added to the heat pooling at my center for Manning.
We cruised over across the Causeway and I was lost in the view of it all. We entered Metairie and Manning began to focus on the traffic surrounding us. My grip tightened around him as we continued. I barely realized we had arrived at our destination until the rumble of the engine died.
It was still a little early. We decided to grab a drink to start the night and combat the heat of a southern summer. He walked to Pat O’Brien’s for their signature Hurricane cocktail. I knew these drinks were strong, so I limited myself to one. I did not need to make the mistake of being intoxicated and falling off the back of a motorcycle.
When we made our way to The Dungeon the mood changed. This place was dark and erotic in a deviant way. There were goat heads on the wall. The servers were barely dressed in their leather uniforms. Everything about the first level of this club called to me. We ordered cocktails as we took our seats. I could not stop the grin from showing as I thought to myself Manning is most definitely trouble.
MANNING
Kenna and I are sitting in a cage next to the jukebox which features heavy metal music including such bands as Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, and one of my favorites Motorhead. I knew the bar didn’t open till 10:30 pm. This was her first time in the bar and had no idea what was waiting for her when it opened.
While talking to Kenna, I had a strange feeling of Deja Vue come over me. It was like the present was also a memory. I have always believed that I was an old soul, but never gave a lot of thought about it. Every time Kenna opened that luscious mouth to speak, I already knew what she was going to say. The humid and sultry air around me seemed to send electrical charges through my body. I had never experienced this before.
The Dungeon has a long history and it is inspired by a ghost story regarding a mansion on Dauphine Street. The story goes that a rich Turk named Suleyman rented the mansion and began throwing wild parties that included every form of sin and debauchery. To make a long story short, Suleyman and many of his partiers were found brutally murdered in the mansion. It was believed that his brother, who was a Sultan had instigated the killings. This was the impetus of many ghost stories and the beginnings of The Dungeon.
The alcohol and the environment were beginning to change my perception of time and space. I began having memories of Kenna and I being at that fateful party. I pushed those thoughts deep into my subconscious because I wanted to fully enjoy my time with Kenna.
We carried on a light conversation and she would occasionally reach out and touch my thigh, causing a tingle in my cock. I knew she was a master of teasing, so I thought I would pay the little slut back. I reached out and overtly pinched her nipple with my fingers. She flinched from the unexpected pain but flashed me a sly smile.
These little teases increased in intensity. I slid my chair closer, looking her eye to eye, I reached out and put my hand on her knee and slowly slid it to her leather-covered pussy. It was dark, with black lights illuminating the room. I began to rub her pussy and I could feel her heat through the leather. The smell of the leather and the feel of her pussy was exhilarating.
She then reached out and pinched my nipple, hard. My cock began engorged to the point it was painful. My grip on her pussy tightened to the point she whimpered. Not to be bested, she reached down and palmed my cock, letting her fingers slide under my balls. She squeezed and lifted at the same time, making me lift my ass out of the chair. I thought, “Damn she is tough!” I decided to let her win the battle of teasing, for now.
We moved inside the next level of The Dungeon at 10:30. Heavy metal music was playing loudly. The type of loud that you can feel your entire body vibrating. We found a cage and I set down and pulled Kenna into my lap. She immediately felt my hard-on and squirmed into my cock, as she glanced back to catch my reaction.
I reached around and found my way into those leather pants. I slid my hand and found her panties were already soaked. I rubbed her cunt slowly up and down. The more I rubbed, the more she pushed into my hard dick. I moved her panties aside and slipped a finger inside of her drenched pussy. She slipped down my lap and reached behind and grabbed a handful of my cock. She slowly squeezed and released several times. No one even looked our way because they were too busy with their debauchery. I noticed two women kissing each other deeply. Some had their partner leaning against with their hands under their short skirts. I saw one chick that was sandwiched between two men. The guy in the rear was dry humping the chick's ass, while the one in front was kissing her and had his hands under her skirt. Holy shit, could this be like the party given by Suleyman?
We continued our mutual masturbation for a few minutes, and I knew she had already cum once, and I was about to cum. I removed my hand and reached up with both hands and pinched both of her nipples hard. I ordered her to quit.
KENNA
As Manning and I sat in a cage with metal music playing from the jukebox we talked of our love of music, debated over our favorite bands, and discussed meaning in the songs we both loved. Our conversations were always natural and easy. This was the first time I had ever been to The Dungeon and I was fascinated by the place. The darkness of it all was not intimidating, but erotic in its own way.
As I sat in my seat sipping my drink Manning began to tell me of the history of The Dungeon. He knew me well enough to know that I loved the stories from the past that molded the future. The tale he told weaved together in my mind to paint a picture. The clarity was so real it could have been a memory.
I watched as he spoke, and his eyes lit from the joy of the lesson. Manning was ever the teacher and his passion showed through. I could almost see us in a different time at parties fueled by lust and sin. The image changed in my mind to those of that murderous night and I wondered if just maybe Manning and I had been together in a past life on the night Suleyman’s life ended and the legends were born.
I tried to bring myself back to reality, back to the present with Manning. I sipped my drink to cool my skin. I placed my hand on Manning’s arm as if I needed an anchor to this moment. I knew if I told him what I was feeling he would accept it. He believed, like I did, that we were old souls living yet another lifetime. I did not want to be trapped in a memory or a daydream here with him now was the only place I wanted to be.
As our conversation turned to the more lighthearted day to day chatter, I could not resist touching him. Manning’s skin was cool to the touch and I wanted to burrow beside him to soothe the heat I felt for him. As we spoke my hand would stray to his thigh. A gentle caress or a firm squeeze was meant to keep him guessing and wanting more. Mannings hand reached out and pinched my hard nipple. I flinched and saw his smile of satisfaction. I returned his grin and silently thought this was going to be a damn good night.
Manning slid his chair closer to me and stared into my eyes. I felt his hand land on my knee, and he began a slow journey to my wet pussy. I was lost in the heat of his stare when his hand covered my leather wrapped pussy. When he began to rub, I knew I was going to be in trouble. This man turned me on and excited me in a way few could.
I reached to Manning's chest and pinched his nipple between my fingers. I had no doubt that move had him harder than he was minutes ago. His hand flexed over my pussy and my hips rocked pressing into his palm.
I could not resist the urge to touch him. My hand slid down Manning's chest until I found what I looked for more than anything. The bulge under his jeans was undeniable. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. I could not help the grin tugging up at the corners of my mouth when my had cupped him squeezing slightly. I moved my hand a bit lower feeling his balls through his jeans. Innocently enough I rested my head on his shoulder as my hand squeezed harder than before lifting his balls upward towards his cock. His hips rise and heard the rush of breath. With a soft laugh, I knew he had been reminded that two could play this game.
When we moved to the next level of The Dungeon, I felt like we were moving to the next level of our sexual exploits. The heavy metal was blaring with such intensity you could feel it in your body. The caged sitting continued here, and Manning led me to one in the corner. As he sat, he pulled me onto his lap. I felt his hard cock instantly, and like a moth to a flame, my ass ground against him. I looked over my shoulder searching his face for a reaction. Manning was good at concealing his expressions, but I could see the need in his eyes.
His arm reached around me, and his hand slid under the waistband of my leather pants. I had no doubt Manning had pulled that move off before thick hands and tight leather pants should not have made for an easy combination. His had found the silk of my panties and I knew they were wet. He started rubbing his fingers up and down my slit over my panties. I pressed back into his cock harder as my ecstasy grew. He pushed my panties aside and pressed a finger into my pussy. Damn, he was going to make me cum right here.
I moved slightly allowing space between my ass and his cock. I slipped a hand behind me and wrapped my hand over his jean-clad cock. I would squeeze and release his hard-on to the rhythm of his finger sliding in and out of me.
We were surrounded by sex, no one cared what degenerate behavior we were up to. There were women kissing each other, another woman being fingered by a man as another man ground against her ass. This place fueled debauchery and demanded lust.
Manning’s hand never wavered. He sent an orgasm bursting through my body and his exploration never stopped. I could feel his cock thickening and knew he was about to cum. I couldn’t keep the smart-ass grin off my face when his hands pinched my nipples and he said, "Quit.” For now, I chose to obey.
MANNING
I did not want to cum here, I wanted to be in a more intimate environment with Kenna, so that I could get the “full treatment.” I wanted it all. I grabbed her hand and started for my Harley. She gave me the “What the fuck look?”
Bourbon Street was crowded, and it was still hot, and I had on leather. We made it to my Harley and as I stepped across to straddle it, she reached and grabbed my cock. This little slut was needing some dick. She slung her leg over and as her ass hit the seat, she whispered in my ear, “We need to fuck.” I knew a little hotel in Mandeville that is clean and off the main drag.
I revved my engine and disengaged the clutch and we made our way down Toulouse and made a right on Royal Street, then a quick right onto St. Louis Street. Kenna was making it hard to navigate. She was a little tipsy and was not used to being on a bike. I merged onto I-10 and traffic was horrible.
I was running about 75 mph, just to match the flow of traffic. Kenna reaches around and started rubbing my cock with one hand and pinching my nipple with the other. She made no attempt to hide what her hands were doing, so the other drivers were able to see what she was doing.
We finally made it to exit 228 toward Mandeville on Causeway Boulevard. Kenna had her hands inside of my pants by this time. We made it to the causeway and began the twenty-five-minute drive across the bridge. It was after 11 am and the causeway was surprisingly empty.
I could not take it anymore, so I found the right moment to pull into one of the crossovers. I quickly stopped and unsnapped and unzipped my pants and she did the same. I pulled backed on the Causeway and headed to Mandeville.
She reached around and started stroking my cock, so I returned the favor and reached back and began rubbing her pussy. She was wet and my seat was already soaked. I knew that the combination of the Harley vibrating, my rubbing, and the situation was going to be good for her. I kept my speed synchronized with the other vehicles.
I had a memory of this same situation some thirty-five years ago when I was twenty-seven and my eighteen-year-old girlfriend were crossing the Causeway. She managed to crawl around from behind me and straddle me. We were looking in each other’s eyes and fucked nearly all the way across. I thought about doing the same thing, but since this was the first time for us to fuck, I wanted it to be more intimate.
She whispered in my ear, “I’m cumming.” I kept my hand on her clit for about another minute and she fully climaxed. She squirted so much, the back of my jeans were soaking. Her stroking increased in intensity and speed. It was not long that I blew my load all over the gas tank.
We made it to the motel and were both wet. I go inside and I am sure the clerk could smell cum and pussy juice on both of us. We got the key and giggled all the way to the room. I knew that it would be another thirty minutes before I could rise to the occasion.
As we stepped into the room and I locked the door, Kenna immediately reached up and grabbed my beard and began pulling me toward the bed. I laughed and told her that we had all night, but she was going to have to give me a few minutes to recover from the previous orgasm. She flashed me a sexy smile and responded, “What I want you to do does not require a wait.”