What Happens in New Orleans…


I know you didn’t really want to go to that conference, but at least it was only going to be for a couple of days, and, lucky for you, it was in New Orleans. At least you would have a good time. On Saturday night, you texted me that you were going to wander around and find a good bar. I knew what that meant, someplace with a big whiskey selection and a bartender who could make you some exotic cocktails. Knowing you, you researched the places online, looked at reviews, and figured out the directions. The first place you visited was nice enough, with a game on the TV on the wall, and bowls of popcorn and nuts on the bar.

After two drinks, you decided to walk for a while and see what else there was to do. A couple of blocks later, you came up to a neon-lit, trashy looking bar with posters advertising girls in various stages of undress. Not your style, usually, as a nice, monogamous, married guy. You would feel guilty about eyeing naked women, about lusting after them, imagining what they would feel like, what they would taste like. But, the feeling of being out of your routine, combined with the drinks you had already had, and the strange nature of New Orleans, exciting and sinful and alcohol-soaked, took you out of your comfort zone and you decided to go in. It was fairly dark inside, but didn’t look too bad, small tables scattered in a large room, a lot of average, middle-aged men drinking and listening to the music.

You sat down, feeling nervous and strange being in a bar by yourself; you studied the menu for a while, then drained your glass of water, then played with your phone, hoping to look less awkward. The beer you ordered finally arrived, a little too warm and tasting a little tired and flat. After a while, and another beer, you started to relax a little. You tried to remember the last time you had been in a club alone, no one commenting on how much you were drinking or how much you were spending.

You looked around at the girls, some of them topless, some in bras and panties. One of them caught your eye, not the prettiest girl there, but curvy, with beautiful, smooth olive skin and unruly, wavy brown hair. You could see a row of tiny diamond studs going up the curve of one ear, and a small tattoo, some sort of delicate script you couldn’t read, on the inside of her wrist. She was near the bar, talking to the bartender. You stared at her, imagining the feel of her skin, the smell of her perfume. You felt your heart beat a little faster and your breathing quicken.

A new song came on, something haunting and sexy. You watched as she walked over to the stage and started to bend and twist to the music. It wasn’t dancing as much as it was undulating. She stroked the fabric of her lace bra, playing with her nipples. She seemed to be in her own world at first, but after a few minutes, she started to make eye contact with a few of the men watching her. She reached out and plucked a ten dollar bill out of the fingers of the man nearest the stage. She smiled at him and leaned forward toward him. He reached up and unhooked the front clasp of her bra so that her breasts sprung free. He reached up and squeezed and stroked them the way you wanted to, for a few seconds until she pulled away, smiling. You imagined how they would feel under your hands. You could feel them in your mind, full and soft.

She moved back to the center of the stage and began to move to the music again. She ran one finger down from her breasts, down her abdomen, to the top edge of her panties. She slipped one finger inside the waistband and stroked herself a little. She looked around at the men speculatively, and did what she had done before. She walked over to another man with a bill in his hand; you couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a twenty, and took it out of his hand slowly, teasingly. She pulled him up on the stage by the hand, and motioned to him to hook his thumbs on either side of her panties. He smiled and did what she asked. He pulled them down, grinning at his friends. She took one of his hands and used it to lightly stroke her public hair. The man breathed in sharply at the feel of it; you imagined yourself in his place, the soft curls under your fingertips. Maybe you would be bold enough to slip a finger or two lower, to rub between her legs and feel the wetness you knew you would find. You felt yourself stiffen at the thought. Eryaman Escort You watched her as she finished her dance, fully naked now, unable to take your eyes off of her.

When the show was over, she disappeared into the back of the bar; you hung around, with your fourth (or maybe it was your fifth) beer. After a while she emerged, in a skimpy, silky dress, and walked around mingling with the customers. When she came near you, you gestured for her to sit down and the two of you started to make small talk. It was surprisingly normal chit-chat about the music, the city, her favorite place to get a spicy jambalaya. You bought her a drink, the bar’s signature cocktail, an overpriced and obnoxiously sweet-looking thing. After the second one, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. You fished your wallet out of your pants pocket and opened it, thinking. You pulled out the wad of bills you had withdrawn from the ATM earlier that day and counted out what you needed to pay the tab you and she had run up; you rifled through what was left and made your decision; when she came back and sat back down with you, your heart was pounding and the blood was rushing to your head.

You decided this was the moment you would leap off the cliff, do what you had been fantasizing about. With shaking hands, you set the pile of twenties on the table near her. She looked at them and licked her lips while looking into your eyes. She moved her hand over the stack of bills, and smoothly swept them off the table and tucked them away out of sight. A second later, her hand crept toward yours. She turned your hand over and started to gently stroke the palm with one finger. Your nerve endings began to tingle. You looked at her and she smiled wickedly. She stood and led you past the bar, to a hallway with a few small private rooms. She opened the door and pushed you inside.

The fantasy became reality in an instant; you realized that you were about to cheat on your wife, that you could do all of the things that had been lurking in you, under the surface. That you could do, and say, anything. You leaned against the wall and unzipped your pants. Your cock sprang out, stiff and throbbing. You pushed her down on her knees in front of you. “Suck my cock”, you growl. “Make me come in your mouth”. She leaned forward, opened her mouth and you felt her envelope you; the feeling of warmth and wetness almost made you come right there. But you wanted more. You wanted to use the words you couldn’t use in your regular life, the words where you took control, where you wanted what you wanted with no apologies and no second thoughts. You held her head tight against you and thrust into her mouth, fucking her, almost choking her. Every few strokes you would pull almost all the way out, feeling the cold air on your skin, then plunged back into her, making her gasp for air.

You loved this unfamiliar feeling of treating her as nothing but a means to an end. Something you could dominate, oblivious to what she wanted, what she liked. You kept fucking her mouth, fast, then slow, until you could feel your orgasm approaching. You pulled out just as you were starting to explode and moaned as you came all over her breasts. You ran two fingers through the slippery mess and rubbed it over her nipples; you held them to her lips; you squirmed as she opened her mouth and sucked them clean.

Not ready to stop yet, you pulled her up from the ground and turned her around so that she was facing the wall. You pulled her thong down and felt between her legs with your hand. You poked your middle finger up inside her. She moaned, with pleasure or with pain. You didn’t know which and you didn’t really care. You pulled your slippery finger out of her and moved it around to rub her clit, more roughly than you usually do. It didn’t take long before you were hard again. You grabbed her hips from behind and pulled her back to impale her on your erection. You slammed into her again and again. So soon after coming, you knew it would take you a while this time, so you were ready for a nice long fuck session. Each time you thrust, you felt engulfed, from the base of your cock to the swollen tip, and each time she would moan and writhe. You alternated between slow, smooth, deep strokes and fast, forceful, frantic ones. You could feel the Sincan Escort muscles straining in your calves from the awkward angle, but it was too good to consider stopping to change position. A few more minutes and you could feel it, that second when you knew you are getting close to climax. You kept thrusting and fingering her, your heart beating almost out of your chest. With one last, giant thrust, you emptied yourself into her. You felt her contractions squeeze you as she climaxed with you.

You stayed like that for a minute, a tornado of thoughts and sensations and emotions swirling through your mind. The combination of the risk, the novelty, the pleasure, even the guilt, hit you all at once. You were shocked at what you had done, and scared of what you might still do. You had two more days at the conference; you knew that you would be spending those two evenings thinking hard about whether you would be back to the club.

Back at the hotel that night, you couldn’t settle down to sleep. Your brain was too full of thoughts and images from the hours before. You would close your eyes, try to make your mind a blank, tried to slow your breathing down and drift off, but every time you were close to sleep, you flashed back to the way your hands felt on the curve of her hip, the warmth of her lips, or the way the way the evening smelled- a mix of beer, perfume, and smoke.You dozed a little here and there, but kept waking up to the crazy whirlwind in your head. It had only taken a couple of hours for you to change into someone you could barely recognize. By 4:00 am you had decided you were going back to the club; you spent the next hours planning what you would do when you got there. If this was going to be your one fling, you wanted to make it count.

You woke the next day, plan in mind. You had to make it through the day of meetings at the conference, alternating between dozing off from not having gotten enough sleep, and fidgeting in anticipation of the evening ahead. Finally, the last talk was over; you ducked the colleagues who wanted you to go to the happy hour that followed and left the hotel. You had things to do; first the bank to cash a very large check, then a couple of other stops, and finally back to the club. The dancers were just arriving. You found the stripper from last night and pulled her aside. You whispered in her ear; her eyes widened as you whispered what you wanted from her and what you were willing to pay. She hesitated when she heard your terms, but the money won her over and she looked you in the eye and nodded. You handed her a paper with your room number; you told her to make an excuse and get out of her shift and meet you in an hour. You told her to plan to be there all night; you had a lot of needs to fulfill.

You spent the hour setting up your equipment; she showed up as ordered, just as you were finishing. You told her to change and handed her what you had bought, a long-sleeved mesh body stocking, fairly opaque, with cutout nipples and open at the crotch. You told her to lie down and turned your iPhone to record video and set it in the small tripod you had bought that afternoon. Everything was ready; you could begin. In a voice that was a little more tentative than you would have liked, you said, “stroke your nipples”. She used one finger, then two, to stroke and tease; you instructed her to take an ice cube from the glass of water in the table next to her, and run it up and down between her breasts. You heard her breathe in sharply as the cold ice met her warm, smooth skin. You wanted to reach out and see if her nipples had hardened from her touch, but you didn’t want to spoil the filming.

After a few moments, you told her to move the ice down her abdomen, and slide it over her clit. Again you heard her gasp, and saw her squirm. Again you wanted to touch her but made yourself wait until the time was right. Finally the ice was melted away; you gave her her next order- “rub yourself”. You were so unused to this, demanding what you wanted instead of asking, making her perform for your pleasure. You’d never recorded anyone before; there was something detached about it, making her a prop, a tool for your enjoyment, but now you could see the attraction. She rubbed herself as you directed, slow when you wanted, then fast, then inserting Etlik Escort a couple of fingers. You told her to finger fuck herself but to stop before she came. She obeyed. You watched her fingers moving frantically in and out as her breathing quickened. You sat back watching her while the video ran, cock hard and bulging inside your pants. You saw she was getting close to orgasm, so you told her to stop. She looked at you, waiting for your next command.

You pointed to the night table next to the bed. “Open that drawer and see what you find.” She reached in and pulled out the vibrator you had stashed away. “Turn it on”, you ordered, “put it inside you”. She nodded; you couldn’t tell if she liked the idea of not, but it didn’t really matter; you had paid for her obedience. She inserted the vibrator, first an inch, then another, slowly and teasingly, looking directly in your eyes the entire time. You felt like you could tell her to do anything you wanted, and she would. The thought excited and scared you at the same time. You took hold of the vibrator yourself, and started to thrust it into her, pushing on the spot inside that you knew would be the most intense. You told her to finger herself while you fucked her with the toy, and watched as her breathing became ragged and she started to moan softly. You felt how wet and slippery she was getting, and knew she was close. You pulled the vibrator out abruptly and switched it off.

A voice that didn’t seem like it could be coming from your mouth said “beg for it; beg me to let you come”. She spoke for the first time since you had her lie down, “please let me. I want to come so bad; please, please”. You felt like a puppet master, pulling her strings at your whim.

“Not yet”, you whispered, “tell me what you’ll do for me if I give you permission”.

“Anything you want, I’ll do whatever you want, if you just let me”. You scanned through the possibilities in your mind. You tried to decide which made you feel more powerful- denying her permission to satisfy herself or granting it. You made your decision; you plunged the dildo back inside her and kept thrusting, harder this time. With the video still recording, she finally came, shuddering and convulsing.

Now you were ready, more than ready. You yanked your shorts off, moved up on the bed, and straddled her. You squeezed her breasts roughly, rubbing her nipples with your thumbs. You thrust your cock in between them and moaned at the feeling of being engulfed by them. You fucked her this way for a while, but you were so aroused and didn’t want to come this way.

You gripped her shoulders for leverage and shoved your cock, rigid as you had ever been, into her open mouth. You heard her gasp, felt her gagging; a small portion of your brain considered slowing down and being more gentle, but a few seconds of you plowing into her warm, wet mouth and that part of your brain went silent. All you cared about was getting your cock as deep and hard down her throat as you can. You felt her squirming beneath you; she didn’t protest, and you aren’t sure you could stop if she had. You’re close, so close. You thrust faster, and harder. Finally couldn’t hold it back anymore. You shuddered, over and over, as you came and felt her swallowing the fluids running down her throat while she struggled to breathe.

You stayed like that as your convulsing subsided; finally you pulled out of her mouth and looked down at her, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, splayed out and manhandled. You felt a little dazed by what has happened. You had never indulged this side of yourself before. You knew that you were going to have to do some serious thinking on the way home to decide whether to hide that side of you away again, or get to know it better in the future. But, that would have to wait until tomorrow; you had paid for her compliance for the rest of the night, and you wanted to get your money’s worth.

It’s been a week since you’ve been back from the conference, 4 days since you screwed up your courage and told me all about your adventure and saw how aroused I was by it, and 2 days since you played the recording for me and we reenacted some of what you had done with her. there was an intensity that hadn’t been there for far too long.

I remembered our conversation before you left – me telling you how excited I got thinking of you being overtaken by lust, giving in to the urges I knew were buried under your civilized exterior. It took a lot of urging from me that I would be ok with it, as long as I got to see and hear the details and use them to spice up our own encounters.. And it did, didn’t it? Maybe I’ll let you handle the next conference on your own…

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