WATCH OUT FOR DENNIS When you live here in Panama City Beach  

pcbmaleneedsfun 56M
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7/9/2005 3:27 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

WATCH OUT FOR DENNIS When you live here in Panama City Beach

New Orleans promised to be the vacation of a lifetime. My wife and I had been planning a second honeymoon for several years, weighing our different options. New Orleans offered us all we were looking for and was reasonable enough that we could extend our stay to several weeks versus a few days. Upon arrival to our hotel, we were immediately impressed. The city was everything our travel agent had promised. From our balcony we could smell the different aroma's from the many cafes and restaurants along the main street. There were plenty of colorful people to keep us entertained. We sat for hours on our balcony, absorbing in the carefree atmosphere of the city, as we sipped the spicy teas. Our travel agent boasted, none stop, about one restaurant in particular. Supposedly it had live voodoo dancers, that entranced you to a different world. "Mayabo Dava De", was one hard place to get reservations. Our travel agent pulled several strings to get us our 7:30 PM reservation. My wife and I were like two giddy children, waiting for Christmas. We dressed in the local tradition, adorning ourselves in yards of bright colored material. We arrived a few minutes early and were slightly surprised with the atmosphere. It was dark. But not just dark, it was pitch black and cold. The restaurant's coldness grew on us quickly, and soon we didn't even notice the difference. My wife, Maya was glad she brought a small shawl. We were escorted to our table, which was directly in front of the stage. We were assured that the live performance would start shortly. As we looked around us, we were unable to see any other customers. We could hear their voices in the darkness, but we couldn't see them. The small lamp on our table, shed just enough light to allow us to see each other, nothing more. The atmosphere was almost eerie. The waiter came to our table, and took our order. Though the menu was in English, we understood little we had read. The waiter gave us several good suggestions and we were willing to try something new. From behind us, in the smothering darkness, we heard wild jungle drums beating, gradually becoming loader, as if they were moving to the front. With the sound of an explosion, came a cloud of billowing gray smoke in the center of the stage. As the smoke settled, a women appeared, being born from the stage and smoke. She danced to the beating of the drums, her feet barely touching the floor. She moved like liquid, miraculously rebounding from difficult bends and movements. She was as limbo as a circus performer, and as graceful as a butterfly. She had long black hair that covered most of her bare waist. As more of the smoke cleared, we became aware that the dancer was partially naked, wearing only the smallest G-string. As she continued to dance, her breasts never heaved or moved. The rhythm of the drums changed, beating faster, as if danger was close. Placing a hand over my heart, I could feel my body beating to the same rhythm as the drums. Our lamp seemed to be extinguished, as all light left the restaurant, leaving us in pitch blackness. The blackness, slithered and became alive, crawling over my skin, leaving a cold slimy trail. For a moment I thought I was dreaming, as I opened my eyes. I was no longer at the restaurant, but on the Bayou being transported in a small wooden boat. My wife was not with me. I was alone with the beautiful mysteries creature that had danced on the stage. I tried moving my lips to ask questions, but nothing came from my mouth. When we got to shore, she helped me out. In the jungle she became free, stripping off the little remnant of clothing. I felt my hands undressing myself, wanting also to be free. We ran together in the jungle like a pair of wild animals. She caught a small rabbit, and brought it to me. I could smell the blood running through its veins and wanted to taste its wine. Together we bit into the a live animal, tasting the sweet copperness of its blood. We smeared the blood over our bodies, basking in its warmth. Being controlled by our animal natures, we grabbed each other, with a mad hungry lust. I pushed her to the ground, and pounded my meat deep inside her. She withered and dug her long red finger nails deep across my back. As I continued to fuck her hard, she responded by tilting her beautiful tight black ass, meeting my blows. I remember dumping my first load, ready and wanting for more. She some how held me back, sinking her teeth into my balls, drawing out my blood. Instead of being enraged, this just made me want her more. My cock became hard and steady, easily finding her little tight ass hole. I shoved myself deep within her, for the second time, wanting to plunge right through. Again, she welcomed my blows, arching her body, forcing me deeper and deeper inside. She was warm and soft, and yet strong. She smelled of animal blood, which acted as an aphrodisiac, making me want more. She knew how to please me with just the simplest act, and yet, somehow I felt like I was a puppet on a string. There were several minutes I lost consciousness, swimming from one fantasy to the next. When I woke, there were several maidens around me. They all had beautiful smooth black skin that covered their tight muscular bodies. They were my she lions and I was their master. They danced around me, flashing me with their wet hot pussies. I wanted them all, and not one at a time either. I tried to stand, but soon discovered I had been tied down. I looked down at my cock, and it was as hard as a rock. Catching my look, the maidens began to laugh. They came to me as one, covering my body like hungry locusts ready for a meal. They licked and sucked as others massaged. The dancer was among them as she prepared her self to straddle me. Several of the maidens moved to her, sucking and cleaning her pussy. They kissed and teased her firm tits. They stroked her bush and ran their fingers down her clit. They kissed her sweet mouth, while massaging her small tight buttocks. She glided to me like on the wings of a dove, and slowly, painstakingly, lowered herself onto my penis. Several of the maidens stayed behind her rubbing her back and stroking her hair. Other's licked and sucked on my balls, that were firmly between her creamy thighs. And yet even others, massaged and teased my nipples. One of the maidens, straddled my face, forcing her sweet pussy into my mouth. I hungrily sucked, needing its nourishment. The dancer road my cock hard and swift, as I sucked on the delicate morsel that was placed on my face. It felt like a hundred hands touching and caressing me, overloading my senses. I released a second load, gushing my cum deep into her dark pussy. After coming, I remember little else. I remember flying or feeling like I was flying, higher and higher almost reaching the clouds. I remember coming a third time, with little effort. I remember the cries of orgasmic enjoyment from the maidens, as they withered in pleasure. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in bed next to my wife. At first, I thought it had been just a dream, until I tried to move. I was so soar, it took effort just sitting up. There were red ugly marks on both of my wrists. But that was not all, when I inspected my cock, there were several sets of deep bite marks that were in the process of healing. They looked weeks old. I called down to the desk, and the manager inquired when we would be checking out. I was indigent, since we had only checked in that morning. The manager patiently explained that my wife and I had been there for 3 weeks, and this morning was our scheduled day for departure. Maya and hardly talk about our second honeymoon. When we got home, few believed our story. Nightly my dreams of filled with my pagan sexual acts with all those women. I dare not say anything to my wife. She remembers getting food poisoning and spending the rest of our trip in bed. She said I came and went as I pleased, spending very little time with her. The bite marks healed leaving tiny scares. When I touch the scares, my finger feels like they are burning and I have to pull away. What really happened in New Orleans, I will never know. But one thing is for sure, it was the trip of a lifetime...


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