This is a mostly true story of a recent visit to the "Sin City". Some places and names have been changed to protect the guilty.
It contains scenes of male on male sex. If this offends you, is illegal where you live, or if you are underage please leave now!
Remember to send a contribution to nifty.org. Send 2 if the story gets you off. Enjoy, unzip, and grab a box of tissues. Comments welcome;jaskejr@hotmail.com
New Orleans experience
cajunfr
Here I was at 2AM on a Thursday morning bent over a rubber covered pool table at the Ramrod. Aound me were littered empty lube packets and condom wrappers,spilled beer cups, and the sounds of men fucking. I'd only been in New Orleans since late afternoon but had found myself at one of several fuck parties that the gay scene was noted for in this city. There was a thick, very hard cock pumping in and outof my, by now, extended hole. It would not be the last his night nor was it the first. Poppers were occasionally pushed under my nose to "keep me in the mood" by one of the bystanders watching my depraved behavior. This was my third party of the night.
But that's the middle of my story, a long, tragic one. The lead up to this moment began five years earlier. It all started one morning over breakfast with my lover on a bright spring weekend. As we sat relaxing over our second cups of coffee, my lover of 15 years, really my first real relationship, announced that he had been tested and was positive for the virus. I sat, stunned and silent, for a few minutes. I didn't ask how or who or when. It didn't matter now the damage had been done. I had thought that our relationship had long ago gone beyond the stage where we needed an outside outlet. Now I was faced with the fact that I'd been wrong. I was not mad, not insulted. But my own security had been destroyed. Of course over the years our sex life had diminished to a few times a week. Our jobs and house had replaced the need for the constant sex that marked an earlier period. Both of us had demanding jobs, a family crisis now and then to deal with. We'd been fairly successful in our careers and lived a comfortable life. Now all that was shattered by the specter of this. In that instance my first thought was to be tested, that day if possible. My test, as I expected, came back negative for all STDs. Now the truth of the infidelity hit me hard. I'd been a fool not to question the late night office meetings, the weekend business trips to see "clients".
I knew at that moment that I'd have to make a choice. I could leave our home, our friends, my life as I knew it or I could stay and deal with the immediate problems that the virus presented. The first problems were easy- the doctors, the meds, safe sex. They were no brainers but the emotional damage had to be faced. I moved into one of the four spare bedrooms in the house. Then came the doctors visits, the home care nurses, the new lack of privacy in my own home. The rushes to emergency rooms became more frequent until that one last time. His end was quiet, surrounded by family and friends. I was now alone, a 40 year old, well built gay man, healthy and in his prime..
My boss and co-workers insisted that I take some time off. One of the care nurses came by a few times a week to help me sort through the many things that had to be done. People visited to console me and to check on me. After all the legal things had been sorted out and the remains of the medical equipment removed, I waited a few days before returning to work, to a place where I was in control of part of my life. Despite the efforts of neighbors and well meaning friends my social life was empty. I had no desire to go out and mix in Boston's gay scene that I had little in common with, one alien to me.
I continued to work at the consulting firm for a year before it was bought out by a larger company. I received a generous payout and was kept on as a part-time consultant to handle some of my clients who insisted on dealing only with me. I really had no need for the money. The insurance, the joint stock account, and my own investment accounts provided more than enough income to live comfortably. One of my long time clients was a property development company. The three owners had been very supportive during my period of grieving, calling to check on me and to ask my advice. That's how I ended up in New Orleans. After Katrina had wiped out large parts of the city, they had been offered an opportunity to go in and rebuild. They were one of many who came in to rebuild the city. My experience in renovation and historic preservation was needed. I was familiar with the old city since I'd spent many summers there visiting with my grandparents.
Arrangements were made for me to go down and consult on the projected building sites along with historic details. The client company provided an apartment in the garden district for my use. I flew down on a Wednesday, arriving in the late afternoon. I took a taxi to the address I had been given. The studio apartment was in an old converted motel that had been re-configured into condos with a nice pool in the center courtyard. I called to let them know that I'd arrived and would see them in the morning. They warned me that their morning began at 10AM, late like the rest of the city. I would be picked up around that time and brought to the offices.
I decided to take a swim in the pool before heading out to explore the garden district area and the French Quarter. I marveled at how those undamaged parts of the city had returned to what passes for normal in New Orleans. The reader must understand that this city was unique in the US. It was older than most and had seen it all. It was a mixture of all of the cultures that had settled there. There were the fire and brimstone preachers railing on Sundays against the sins that many of those same men practiced the other six days of the week. There was the live and let live attitudes that comes with having witnessed it all in the past. One's private sins were written off , best accepted or ignored. My own were part of the norm of life in the "Big Easy".
My evening began with a stroll and dinner at one of the many creole restaurants that line the streets of the Quarter. Afterwards I walked along the river front park watching the sunset over the city. The hoards of tourists and university students had begun to flood the Quarter, heading for the notorious watering holes. I found my self on the balcony of Lafitte's, beer in hand, as the last rays of the sun cast shadows on Bourbon Street. i was surrounded by a mix of all that was the gay culture of the city- college students, business men, old timers, oil field workers, hustlers. I found a gay map and guide to the city and settled in at the bar to plan my exploration with comments and suggestions from the bartender on what was happening that night.
Having set out my plan for the night I started by tour of the bars or as my grandmother would say "Honky Tonk Joints". I'd already taken the precaution of carrying only my ID and the cash I'd need for the night. I'd attached a small wallet with a chain to my belt loop. I began with the tamer bars, checking out the clientele, the staff and the general atmosphere. Some were a little too tame for my taste or in some cases, too young. I found my way from the likes of Good Friends and the Lantern all the way over to the Phoenix on the edge of the Quarter. At the last one I lucked upon a naked party night at the upstairs bar, the Eagle. This was a throw back to the gay, days of my gay youth. I deposited my valuables with the bartender after ordering my first beer at the bar. There were few people upstairs when I arrived but within 30 minutes the crowd from downstairs drifted up. It soon became crowded with naked, lust starved men of all kinds. This was not a subtle crowd. Hands reached out for a neighbor's crotch, poppers were passed, and gay porn played on the TVs.
After a second beer and a few hits of the offered poppers, I moved off to an area of waist high wall with glory holes at various places. I stood behind the wall watching the porn on a nearby TV. In no time my cock was freed from my pants and an eager mouth of an unseen sucker was working on it. Around me men were beginning to satisfy their sexual needs. Groups gathered around pairs of men fucking. Others were more active, bending over to accept hard cocks or sucking another one. I felt hands under my unbuttoned shirt. They pinched my now hard nipples. Other hands loosened my belt and pulled my jeans down, exposing bare ass since I had gone commando. Within minutes a bottle of poppers was placed under my nose to be inhaled deeply. I felt a lubed finger explore my ass crack seeking my hole. I bent slightly and the target was found. More lube was pushed into my tunnel before the finger was withdrawn and replaced by the head of a stiff cock. It had been a while since I'd been fucked so the strange cock met some resistance. Another hit of poppers solved that problem as my ass relaxed to welcome the intruder. I felt a latex covered enter my tunnel, forcing it's entire length in with a single stroke.
This went on for over an hour with one man replacing another in front and in back of me. I never bothered to look to see who they were. I needed the abandonment of this moment to release me from the hurt and loneliness I'd felt for so long. After an hour of this sexual orgy I grabbed a nearby paper towel to wipe my well used rear. I pulled up my jeans and went to the bar to pay my tab. I retreated to the downstairs bar to only find that the action there had picked up with a demonstration of S&M with a French speaking guy I'd talked to earlier on the receiving end of a multi-strapped whip. While watching this a few hands pushed down into my jeans to finger my well used hole. Some even started a casual conversation while fingering me. It was almost mid-night so i decided to head back to the main part of the French Quarter where I could catch the Saint Charles streetcar back to the Garden District.
As I walked down Burgundy I saw a line of a few people outside of Rawhide and a small sign announcing a black out party. Curious I joined the line, paid my admission, got a drink ticket and went inside. It was a true black out party. The only lights were candles on the bar and lights from the DJ booth. I got a beer and moved to the back wall of the bar to let my eyes adjust and view the action could hear all around me. Standing there I felt a hand slip into the back of my jeans. A finger found my hole and judged me to be ready for some hot action. I was pushed a few feet towards the rubber covered pool table. I had three men with hard cocks out standing close around me. One man stood behind me, pulling my jeans down. The other two stood on either side of me, offering their stiff members for me to suck. I felt a bare cock probe my ass crack before finding his target. He was gentle, pushing in slowly inch by inch savoring the pleasure my ass offered him. A bottle was pushed under my nose and I inhaled deeply, knowing that I would need the vapors to survive the latest invasions of hard cocks. Man after man took their place behind me after the first three and sent the loads deep inside me. Finally it ended when a hand patted my ass and pulled my jeans back up. I could feel the drip of many loads as it ran down my legs. A fresh beer was offered too me which I drank quickly, needing to wet my over used throat. Two of the guys near me struck up a casual conversation as if nothing had happened. Others were speaking in quiet groups with an occasional nod in my direction.
I finished my beer and decided to head home. I walked to Canal Street to catch the streetcar back. It finally arrived to quickly be filled with other late night revelers. I grabbed a sear near the front, next to a window. Two guys, drunk Aussies took the cross seat in front of me. The one closest to me leaned over and told me he wanted to kiss me. This was too much for my first day in town so I quietly told him that I didn't kiss bearded men or bearded ladies. This got a laugh from his friend and the few people standing in front of us.
Such was the beginning of what was to be my New Orleans experience and my wakening to a new life.