Good Vibrations Magazine

“Pinch the tip, suck the head.”

Those were the first words I saw when I got off the plane in New Orleans. The slogan was printed boldly on a vibrant blue T-shirt hanging in the window of an airport souvenir store. I had no idea what the risqué statement referred to — but I have to say, my interest was definitely piqued. You never see shirts like that in New York. People are simply too uptight to be caught wearing them. That was one of the reasons why I’d wanted to go to New Orleans. Although it’s difficult to believe a city like Manhattan could ever be boring, I was a girl who needed a change of scenery.

“But Kate, you know what conventions are like,” my friend Janice had said, surprised that I’d volunteered for floor duty at the trade show.

“It’s The Big Easy,” I’d countered, having heard all about the festive atmosphere in New Orleans.

“You won’t even make it to Bourbon Street,” Janice had predicted. “By the end of the day, you’ll crash in the hotel with room service and bad TV movies.”

I took my chances, and I packed my sexiest dresses as well as my normal business suits, planning on mixing plenty of pleasure with my business. Since Todd moved out four months before, my sexual cupboards had been bare. Unfortunately, after two mind-numbing days trapped in the convention center, I decided that was Janice was right. This trade show was like all others: Smiling until your face hurt, pretending that you were happy to see every geek who walked by.

That’s when I spotted him — a man who was obviously not part of our group. Unlike the rest of the suit-clad drones, he looked rebellious in Levis and cowboy boots. Tall, with short dark hair and a wicked smile, he instantly captured my attention. When I passed him in the hall, I couldn’t help but notice his deep green eyes, and the fact that those eyes were focused on me. His gaze made me feel as if being naked with him would be a very good thing.

That night, as I looked out of the hotel window toward the French Quarter, I imagined slipping on my slinkiest black dress and searching for my mystery man. I wondered whether he would be able to live up to his bedroom expression. I also wondered if maybe he could explain those intriguing slogans to me. Not only “Pinch the Tip…” but one I’d seen on another T-shirt: “Shuck Me, Suck Me, Eat Me Raw.”

Or perhaps he could demonstrate them for me.

Staring into the night, I lifted my nightgown and slid one hand into my panties, fantasizing about making love to this dark stranger while passengers on dinner cruises watched us from the Mississippi. But even though I rubbed my swollen clit until I thought it would burst from the friction, I still went to bed unfulfilled. I am a strong believer in self-satisfaction, but every now and then I need to ride a real live cock.

The next day, I wore a cherry red silk dress with buttons running the length in the front. I paired it with crimson high heels and put my dark hair in an upsweep that gave me a hint of a bedroom air. Just as I’d hoped, I ran into my handsome stranger everywhere. When I emerged from one early morning conference, I found him leaning by the coffee stand. At lunch in the cafeteria, he was at the counter when I made my purchase. Yet, despite our sizzling eye contact, neither one of us spoke.

Finally, I skipped a 3:30 lecture to look for him. My time in New Orleans was drawing to a close. I needed to act if I wanted any excitement at all. Luckily, it didn’t take me long to locate him in the café, talking to the bartender. He smiled and nodded to a booth in the corner, as if he’d been expecting me, and when he walked over, he held a beer in each hand.

“Isn’t it a little early?” I asked, looking over the bottles of Voodoo Lager. The labels were adorned with an image of a swamp.

“I’m off for the day,” he said, speaking in a sensuous New Orleans drawl. I took a sip of the dark beer and tried to think of something else to say so that I could hear him speak again.

“Do you work here?” Brilliant conversational gambit, but every time I met his gaze, I had visions of being undressed with him on the banks of the Mississippi. This made it difficult for me to speak coherently.

“In charge of concessions,” he told me, instantly explaining why I’d always seen him near the food court or coffee counters.

“Now, you’re finished…?” I let the question hang to see if he’d introduce himself. He got the hint. Reading my name tag he said, “Kate, my name’s Mike, and I was wondering if you’d like a tour.”

“Of the city?” I asked, excited.

“No, the center.”

“I’ve been stuck inside here all week,” I said, thinking about my nighttime fantasy of making love to him on the river’s edge. How was I going to work that into the conversation? My mind raced, and then I took a chance. Leaning forward, I whispered the question that had been in my head since first arriving in New Orleans.

“Pinch the tip, suck the head,” I murmured. “What in the world does that mean?”

Mike burst out laughing. Then he repeated the words, pronouncing “head” like “haid,” before explaining. “That’s how you eat a crawfish. You know, those little red creatures that look like miniature lobsters.”

I felt myself flush, but that didn’t stop me from continuing my query for knowledge. “And ‘Shuck me, suck me, eat me raw — ‘”

Maybe there was something in the way I said it, because Mike’s cheeks reddened, too. “It’s the proper way to eat an oyster,” he said softly.

After that, we just stared at each other for a minute. I was thinking about how much I wished I were an oyster, and I’m sure Mike was having his first feelings of jealousy toward a crawfish.

“About that tour, Kate,” Mike said, his voice gone husky. “You haven’t seen the center from an insider’s perspective.”

I understood now that he was talking about more than your average look-around, and I nodded. Quickly, Mike led me from the cafeteria and up a series of stairs to the top of the center. Electricity flickered between us, just from the touch of his hand in mine. There was a magnetic energy between the two of us, urgent and undeniable.

At the top landing, Mike pulled out a ring of keys and opened an unmarked door, asking, “Ever been on a catwalk?” I shook my head and followed him onto the walkway. Here, we looked down on the main floor of the convention center, covered with booths. For a moment, I became so mesmerized I almost forgot that Mike was standing next to me. That is, until I felt his firm body pressed against mine.

“Can they see us?” I asked as he wrapped his strong arms around me.

“If they looked up.”

I had worked for almost three days on the floor without looking up once. Now, I stared at our reps leading customers through the sales pitch and felt extraordinarily happy not to be there with them.

“Why are you smiling?” Mike asked. Rather than explain, I turned around and kissed him. He seemed to expect it, because he brought his arms around me and pulled me close, returning my kiss in a way that told me he knew what he was doing. His tongue was warm in my mouth and it made spiraling designs that had me dizzy with pleasure. I followed his lead, my heart racing as he brought his hands up my body, stroking me through my dress as he continued to kiss me. When his fingertips brushed my nipples, they stood out hard, ready for more. Ready for him to kiss them, to lick and bite them.

As if he’d read my mind, Mike unbuttoned the front of my dress and softly stroked my breasts through my black lace bra. Then, moving faster now, he unfastened the clasp. My breasts are small and round, with nipples a deep rose-colored hue. Mike silently admired them for a moment, before leaning forward. I thought I would faint when he brought his mouth to them, sucking first on my right nipple, then my left, then nipping them between his teeth, exactly as I had fantasized about only moments before. Then he licked in a line back up my chest to my throat, pressing his lips to my pulse point as if wanting to feel my heart beating. As he worked, I felt Mike’s erection against me, and suddenly I couldn’t wait any longer.

I took a step back from him, and he gave me a hungry look, as if he didn’t want to be interrupted from his kissing games.

“Let me,” I said, unable to formulate any other request. Mike seemed to understand, because he waited patiently as I bent on my knees on the catwalk and unzipped his fly.

There’s nothing in this world more exciting to me than meeting a cock for the first time. Each one has a different personality, and Mike’s matched his style. Rugged, thick, and finely veined, his prick fit well in my fist as I worked the tip between my lips and into my wet mouth. Mike moaned and gripped the railing for support.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered, “so warm and soft.”

I didn’t look down, but I knew about those people on the floor below us, and it made me soak my panties. My skin prickled at the knowledge that my co-workers and competitors were strolling around clueless several hundred feet beneath me. When I stared up at Mike, I saw that he was looking down at them. I could tell that the same thoughts turned him on, too.

Now, I focused my attention on Mike’s cock. I licked it from the base to the tip, then ran my tongue around the head, slowly, as if I were devouring wayward drips from a melting snow cone. I teased the special area on the underside, the little nerve center that seems to drive most men wild.

In my mind, I remembered the way he’d said to eat a crawfish, and I tried this method on Mike. Pinching the tip very gently, I sucked the head. I know Mike understood what I was doing, because when I looked up at him, he shot me a grateful smile. Then I stopped teasing him, and brought the entire length into my mouth until I could feel the tip pressing against the back of my throat. I knew as I sucked him that anyone could see us if they only looked up. This concept made me wetter still, and I slid one hand between my legs and started to work my clit through my panties as I continued to pleasure my new partner. But after only a few minutes of heavy-duty sucking, Mike said, “Stand up, Kate. Please.”

Reluctantly, I let his cock slip from my lips and felt his hands on my shoulders, helping me to rise.

“I want you to look at the people down there while I fuck you.”

Without hesitating, I took my place at the railing as he got behind me, lifting my red silk dress and sliding my sheer pantyhose down my legs. His plump cockhead, still nice and slick from my mouth, slid easily between my thighs, and he thrust into me several times quickly, as if he needed to learn the feel of my body before slowing down to a steadier pace. While he worked me, he parted the cheeks of my ass to watch his prick go in and out of my pussy.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I wanted to fuck you as soon as I saw you.”

He’d had the same effect on me, and I told him so. Our bodies seemed made for each other. But even better than the way we fit together physically was the fact that we were sexually in tune. By this I mean that Mike was a talker. I could envision exactly what he was doing, because he moaned and told me how amazing his throbbing hard-on looked as it moved at a steady beat within my cunt. I listened to him, but kept staring down at the people on the floor beneath us. The two visions melted together for me — the people below, and the mental image of what we were doing.

I have to admit that even though it might have meant an arrest — or at the least, the loss of my job — I actually wanted someone to look up and catch us. Seeing the surprise in one of my fellow conventioneer’s eyes would have taken me to new heights. Regardless, I was probably lucky that the people below us continued obliviously with their work while Mike’s cock did acrobatics inside me.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured, kissing the back of my neck, then biting the ridge of my shoulder blade and sending shivers through my entire body. “So fucking tight and sweet.”

I adore it when a guy talks dirty to me, and I have discovered that the best way to encourage this kind of conversation is to talk back, so I told him what I was thinking. “I wish that blonde girl down there would look up,” I said softly. “She’d be able to see your hands on my breasts, your cock going in and out of my pussy.” Who knows what she’d have actually been able to see through the glare of the lights, but fantasies have no limits. “She’d wish she were up here instead of me,” I murmured.

“Maybe we should invite her to join us,” Mike responded, his voice hoarse. Sometimes it gets more difficult to talk as the moment heats up, but I did my best.

“Maybe she’d replace you,” I said, moving directly into another one of my long-time fantasies. “You could do the watching while she got on her knees and lapped at my dripping cunt.”

“You’d like that?” Mike asked softly. “You’d like it if all I did was watch?”

“I’d like it better if you fucked my asshole while she sucked my clit.”

That image did it for him. He groaned and gripped into my waist, slamming his body into mine. Then his hands moved down to my ass and he stretched my cheeks apart and slid his thumb into my asshole, feeling the contractions there as my pussy squeezed his cock. I couldn’t keep up the sexy talk either, as his rhythmic pounding created just the sensations I needed. He pushed deep into me as he started to come, and I forced myself to keep my eyes open as I climaxed with him, staring at the people down below us as the orgasm flared through me.

There was a moment of silence while we were still joined together. Then Mike slowly withdrew and adjusted his clothes while I did the same. At least, I did the best I could, but my dress was wrinkled and I could feel that long tendrils of my curls had escaped from my upswept hairdo. No way was I going back to the center. Again, Mike was one beat ahead of me, saying, “Let’s use the back exit instead of going through the main lobby.”

Once more, I let him take my hand and lead me, and this time I found myself on a different set of stairs than those open to the conventioneers. The main stairways were carpeted in navy and decorated with framed artwork on the walls. This set of stairs was covered in gray linoleum, and the walls were simply whitewashed. “Employees only,” Mike explained, shutting the door behind us. “Fewer frills.”

For some reason, I found it as exciting to be behind the scenes as it was to be above the convention hall. Mike was a few steps below me when I told him to stop. He looked up at me.

“Do you have time — ?” I started, and shot him a sexy look.

“Here?”

I nodded, batting my eyelashes coyly, and while he watched I slipped off my heels and hose and took off my panties. Then I leaned against the handrail. With Mike staring at me, I lifted my dress and spread the lips of my pussy. I gave him a hands-on lesson in how I like to be touched, sliding my middle finger deep inside my still-dripping cunt while I teased my clit with little flicks from my thumb. When I started to moan, my voice echoed in the hallway. This stairwell had amazing acoustics.

Mike shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe we were going at it again so quickly, and then got on his knees on the stairs and locked his hands around my waist.

“Hold your lips open for me,” he said, and in a second, I felt his warm tongue on my clit, lapping at me from top to bottom. He sensed how much pressure I desired, giving me a few long, slow licks with the flat of his tongue before ringing my clit with his mouth and gently sucking. It was an effort to keep my pussy lips open for him. They grew increasingly slippery as he worked, and it took all my willpower to hold on. I wanted to let go and dig my nails into his back, to grab onto him and pull his face harder against me. Instead, I kept holding on, my long red nails sliding in my juices, my clit growing larger and harder as I got ready to come again.

Before I could climax, Mike released me and stood up. When I gave him what must have been a desperate, begging look, he whispered, “I want you to come on the end of my cock.”

That sounded good to me, and I nodded and watched him stand. He had his fly open in no time, and he took me face-front for our second round, lifting me up onto the rail and holding me in place while he slipped his cock inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pressed my body against the wall. We went cruising into it from the start. No subtleties, just his raging hard-on, still slicked up with my pussy juices from our previous encounter, and my cunt, welcoming him with a series of mighty contractions.

“You feel so good around my prick,” he murmured in that drawling accent.

Since we were face-to-face, he kissed me, biting my bottom lip hard before moving into a deep kiss that left me breathless. I loved the way he teased me, mimicking with his tongue what he was doing down below with his cock, in and out and then swirling around. Then he moved back slightly to whisper, “Which do you like best, Kate? Head or shaft?”

To explain my choices, he slipped in just the plump head of his prick and rocked it against the mouth of my cunt. “Head?” he murmured, before pounding all the way into me and asking, “or shaft?”

I didn’t know what to say. I needed them both, needed the way he drove into me, then pulled entirely out and pressed the tip against my clit, stimulating me as he asked again, “Head — ” and then drove it home, “or shaft?” It was uncanny. As soon as I craved his full length back inside me, he followed through, fucking me long and slow before teasing my clit all over again.

“Can’t you answer, Kate?”

I couldn’t. I didn’t have an answer. It was all perfect.

“I’ll stop if you don’t tell me,” he warned.

“Both,” I told him finally.

“Greedy little thing,” he said, continuing with that divine rhythm. Head, then shaft, then head again, bringing me right up to the edge over and over without letting me climax.

Just as I reached the point of no return, I managed to whisper the one nagging question that had been on my mind since we’d started fucking. “Who uses these stairs?”

He hesitated before answering, looking deep into my eyes. “My boss, for one,” he said, and I realized that he felt the way I had up on the catwalk. That it would actually be exciting to be caught, even if it meant the end of his normal routine. Luck was on our side a second time, however, and we made it through our quickie, Mike lifting me easily in his arms as he came deep inside me, without the door on the landing opening.

Afterward, Mike picked up my panties and hose from the stairs and I slid on my shoes and followed him down to the first floor. He pushed open the door and we found ourselves on a brick walkway leading to the river. Evening had come, and in purplish darkness we walked slowly along the banks. My legs felt weak and the smell of sex lingered on our skin. I wondered what we would do next. Would he thank me and disappear, my handsome stranger staying just that, a convention fling? Would we go to a bar, or to dinner, or head to my hotel room to fuck all night while staring at the lights of the city?

Mike didn’t seem to find the silence disturbing. He slipped one arm around my waist while we walked. I started to relax into the moment, not worrying so much about what would happen but focusing on what was happening right now. Like the fact that a riverboat filled with dining passengers was making its way down the Mississippi.

“You know, I’ve never been on one of those,” Mike said in his charming accent. “All the years I’ve lived here.”

“Doesn’t look too exciting,” I said. “Just a bunch of tourists floating downstream.”

“You’d make it exciting,” he countered, stopping to cradle my face in his hands and kiss me. I could taste myself in his kiss, and that sent my heart racing all over again. His cock throbbed against me through his slacks, and Mike pulled back to look at me. “Seen any other T-shirts you need explaining?” he asked, and I saw a gleam in those green eyes that let me know he was game.

For anything.