Summer in New Orleans
written by:
Steve Menini

My first trip to New Orleans was on business. I got put up in an extended stay hotel and didn't go out the first week except for work and to pick up "po ‘boys" (French bread sandwiches with your choice of meat, lettuce, tomatoes, and mayo) for breakfast and dinner at a grocery mart across the street. By Friday night I was stir crazy, so I went downstairs to see the manager.

"I'm thinking of going to Bourbon Street."

"Why?" He seemed disgusted. "I can get you free tickets to a club next door instead. You don't want to go to Bourbon Street."

"I'm in New Orleans. I have to go at least once."

"If you say so."

I'd been led to believe Bourbon Street would look like a late night cable promo for Girls Gone Wild. Maybe it does for Mardis Gras, but my timing was off. It was the tail end of summer. The streets were full of drunk tourists, sure - the open container laws there basically allow you to walk around sipping from a fishbowl full of hard liquor - but nobody I would've thrown beads at. If I'd come at the right time. Which I hadn't.

A bit about me...

I'm guy in my mid-twenties who grew up in New England and have since moved all around the country. I can't shake the New England in me though. There's something formal about how I carry myself that, combined with the way I dress and my stature (6'2", 190, athletically built), can be intimidating. I'm the classic "strong, silent type," and most girls peg me as closed off or inhibited. I'm not. Every one I've ever been with, without fail, says afterward, "Wow. I was not expecting the sex to be like that." How's that song go? "I want a lady in the street but a freak in the bed." What's the male version of that? That's what I am.

Anyway, I walked up and down Bourbon Street several times looking for something interesting. Actually, I found it early on -- a door with a sign that said "Live Sex Acts" with a poster of pictures of nude couples onstage -- and just needed to work up the courage to go inside.

Why not? This is New Orleans, I thought. Nobody knows me, and if I do see someone I know inside, I've got as much on them as they have on me. I went in.

I paid the woman at the front ten dollars - five for the cover and five for a beer. Then a black girl in white lingerie with a perfect body found me and took my hand and led me to a seat facing the stage.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Steve."

"Hey, Steve." She placed her hand on my crotch and I felt a gentle buzz. She was wearing one of those "Vibrating Touch" fingertip massagers. She found my dick and worked it up and down the length, leaning in so her tits were pressed against my shoulder and I could feel her hot breath in my ear. "You wanna rub this on my chocolate clit?"

"Yes," I said. Then, with a smirk, "But I'm not drunk enough yet. Come back a little later, okay?"

"Okay, baby." She pulled her hand away sharply and got up to find somebody else. I don't know why strippers corner people the second they sit down. The good clubs have an atmosphere that gradually seeps into you and makes you want to fuck like crazy. After that, they can get you to do anything. I was waiting for that to happen. And I wanted to see some live sex acts, of course.

The sign turned out to be a tease. Occasionally, two girls came out onstage and made out and fingered each other, but it felt rehearsed and artificial. The first unscripted thing that happened was this: a dancer sat facing a guy seated in the front row, took off her panties, wrapped her legs around his head, then jumped back suddenly. She stood up and yelled at him - I couldn't hear her from where I was - and went backstage.

Five minutes later, she came out and sat beside me. "Hi," she said. "What's your name?"

"Steve."

"I'm Summer."

She was about 5'5", with dark brown hair down to the middle of her back, deep brown eyes, and olive skin. Cherokee and Italian. Exotically pretty, with a tight, tiny body and a great ass.

"What happened with that guy up there?" I asked.

"He fucking bit me," she said. She rubbed the inside of her thigh, right by her pussy. "He didn't break the skin, but still! Where do you think you are? You can't do that shit."

She seemed down-to-earth. I didn't tell her what I did for work but I mentioned I like to write, and she told me she won a creative writing contest in high school and got to read part of her story to the school at an assembly. Now she was training to be a nurse. Aren't they all?

"How about a lap dance? $100 for three songs." Pretty steep, but I was being paid per diem, a couple hundred a week, in hundred dollar bills. I didn't know where else I would use it. Then she sealed the deal by saying, "Come on. You're in New Orleans."

"Sure."

She led me to a cushioned bench in back and put up her hair, waiting for the next song to start. It was "Folsom Prison Blues" by Johnny Cash.

"Oh God! Who picked this?" She sat on my lap and took off her top. Her breasts were on the smaller side, with large nipples, but when she started grinding her hips into my lap I got hard instantly. I didn't know the rules about what I could and couldn't do, so she helped by grabbing my hands and placing them on her chest. "You can touch me wherever you want. Grab my ass." I did. She arched her back and ran her nipples over my face. I don't usually like lap dances but Summer knew what she was doing. If she wasn't into it, she was faking it pretty well. Her skin was soft and warm on mine. Perfect.

"Ring of Fire" came on next. Summer groaned.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to be sexy, but this music is ridiculous."

She put her arms around my neck and looked into my eyes, mouthing the lyrics with a smirk. "I fell in... to a burning ring of fire... I went down, down, down... and the flames went higher." I smiled back. And my dick got harder.

"Listen," she said. "After this next song, which'll probably be Johnny Cash too, why don't you come upstairs with me to a private room? Don't expect too much - I'm paranoid about STDs and I have a baby at home so I need to be safe - but let's hang out. It's only $250 for an hour and a half."

"I don't know," I said. But I did. Summer was doing everything right, and I wanted to see where this went. We skipped the next song and Summer led me to the front, where the woman at the desk - probably the Madame - took my credit card. Summer then led me to the back, up a tight set of spiral stairs into a room behind a red velvet curtain with a cushioned seat and a bottle of Champagne on ice.

"What do you want to drink?"

"I'll have the champagne, I guess."

"Besides that."

"Jack and Coke."

Summer left the room. I sat down and poured a glass of Champagne. She came back with my drink and hers, a pineapple and vodka, and another girl.

"This is Heather. If you want to pay double, you can get double the time and we'll do a show for you together."

Heather crawled on all fours, back arched, ass up, and put her head in my lap. She looked up from there and smiled. She was hot, no doubt, but I wanted Summer all to myself. "No thanks," I said to Summer. "Just you." Heather gave me a peck on the cheek and left. It was just the two of us now.

"Take off your pants," Summer commanded. I did. I was so hard at this point that my boxer briefs were pointed straight out. She took my dick out through the fly and held it in her hands. "You've got a really nice cock."

"Thanks."

She gave me a gentle push to sit down and sat on the floor across from me, back against the wall, legs spread. She pulled her thong aside to expose her pussy, perfectly shaved with a tight little landing strip. She opened her lips and I could see she was already wet. Glistening wet. She ran her fingers around and inside and kept looking down at her pussy, like even she was surprised she was so wet. She played with herself and moaned, sometimes glancing up at me.

Did she want me to jerk off? I was frozen. I could've just watched her touch herself for hours. And I kept getting even harder, somehow. I felt like I was going to burst out of my skin.

Finally Summer took matters into her own hands.

She took a swallow of her pineapple and vodka and caught one of the ice cubes between her teeth. She leaned her head over my cock, and drooled cold saliva over the tip. As it ran down I felt little jolts of electricity in my hips. With the ice cube still between her teeth, she grabbed my dick tight and worked the shaft slowly while running the edge of the ice cube in circles around the head of my cock.

"Holy shit. That feels amazing."

I leaned back and moaned and she moved faster and felt my hips instinctively start bucking toward her mouth. She pulled away.

"I really can't give you head. I'm sorry. I want to, but they have rules, and there's a camera in here."

What? There's a camera? I looked up and sure enough, there was a small lens in the corner of the ceiling. By that point, I didn't care. I'd been drinking this whole time, and by now had finished the bottle of Champagne and my Jack and Coke with it. I wasn't any softer - somehow alcohol never affects me that way - but I knew a handjob would take forever.

"Listen," I said. "You're really good, but I don't know if I can finish."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Come up here. If I can't get off, at least one of us should."

She looked intrigued. She stood above me and I positioned her so her pussy was level with my face. She was still wearing underwear, and rubbed herself against me, starting with my chin, then past my mouth to my nose. Her scent was intoxicating.

"What perfume is that?"

"Sexy Little Thing by Victoria's Secret."

The same perfume my high school girlfriend wore. Goddamn it. I was a lost cause. All I wanted at that moment was to make this girl cum.

I placed my hand on her thigh and ran my thumb up and down the edge of her barely covered pussy. She moaned. I inched a little closer and she didn't resist. I put my thumb under the fabric and ran it along her lips to get it wet, then gently over her clit.

"Ohhhh..." she exhaled deeply. "So that's what we're doing."

I got to her opening and she arched her back, pushing her hips down to take my thumb inside her. I have long fingers; it's a good distance from the tip of my thumb to the knuckle. I looked up to see her face. Her eyes were shut and she was biting her lower lip, focused on the sensation of my finger inside her. Short, gasping breaths. With my other hand I cupped her one of her breasts and left a trail of wet kisses down her stomach, back down to where I started, with my face in the fabric.

I paused and took another deep breath, inhaling the musk of her pussy. I didn't care there was a camera watching. At that moment I had to taste her.

With my free hand, I drew the fabric of her underwear aside, and kissed along the outside of the swelling lips, running my tongue around my thumb and up to her clit. I gave it a kiss, and put my lips around it, and sucked gently as I ran my tongue over it. If she was going to tell me we weren't allowed to do this, that would've been the time. But she didn't.

"Oh God," she said. "Oh my God."

Summer grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of my head and pulled me closer. Maybe it was the Champagne still lingering in my mouth, but I could swear I'd never had anyone who tasted as good as she did. I always enjoy giving oral, but this was heaven. I licked in long strokes and felt her legs quiver. I grabbed her ass to steady her legs and pull her in tighter. Summer rocked against me, fucking my face and fingers, shaking intensely. She lowered her head onto the backs of her hands with her fingers running through my hair, clutching tight as she came. She came hard. I felt her pussy contract around my thumb, and kept it deep inside her to feel all the little tremors. I love that, and I couldn't get enough of her taste as her juices ran down my chin.

Summer dismounted carefully and sat down beside me, catching her breath. "You're not married, are you?"

"No, why?"

"You should be. You're gonna make some girl very happy." Her pupils were huge, like a wild animal's. "Can I fuck you? I wanna fuck you."

"You can't, can you? What about the camera?"

"I can make it look like I'm just giving you a lap dance. One second." She left and came back with a condom. "Go to the bathroom and put this on. Right away." She gave my cock a squeeze to let me know she meant business.

I put my pants on and stuffed myself back into them. It wasn't easy. When I got to the bathroom, my cock sprung out fully hard. I put the condom on and had to take off my pants to stuff it back in because it wouldn't fit through the fly. This was crazy. This couldn't be happening. But it was.

When I got back upstairs and took it out, Summer laughed. "How are you still this hard? Your cock is amazing." With that, she sat me down, turned around, stuck her ass out and sat down on it slowly, pulling the thong aside at the last second to let me slip inside her.

"Ohh, that's good," I moaned.

"Yeah. It is."

She took her time. She grabbed my knees for support and slowly worked her pussy up and down the length of my shaft. She clenched her muscles around my cock and milked it from the base to the head. I felt the pressure start to build.

"Oh fuck. I'm close."

"Me too."

"You're so hot. Your pussy feels so hot. It's so fucking tight."

"That's ‘cause you're so fucking big right now."

Her wetness was getting everywhere. I felt it on my balls after it soaked through the fabric of my shorts. I brought a hand around and worked her clit as she picked up speed, slamming her ass into my hips to take me all the way in. She was ravenous, out of control.

"Fuck! I'm cumming. I'm cumming!"

I felt her spasms come again. That did it. That sent me over the edge. I pumped the condom full of a week's worth of sperm, rope after rope for a full minute. She absolutely emptied my balls. I felt lightheaded. She leaned forward, head in hands, gasping breaths. Another minute passed before she got up and left the room. She came back with a tissue, took off the condom, and cleaned me off. She gave me a deep, open-mouth kiss.

"You'll come back and see me, won't you?"

"I'd like to. I can't really afford to do this all the time."

"Do you have a hotel room to yourself?"

"Yeah."

"Come back just to hang out, then. Buy a few drinks and watch the show. I'll come back to your room after my shift is over."

"Sure."

"Great." She kissed me again and smiled. "Now put your clothes on."

She left to let me get dressed, then walked me downstairs and gave me another deep kiss at the door before sending me back out onto Bourbon Street with the rest of the tourists.