Written by Bakai (Feb 2000)
Alright, here's the scene:
A small cocktail bar in an old neighborhood. It's late afternoon but inside you can't tell. There are no windows to the outside so it might as well be the middle of the night. It's a Tuesday, only a few of us in here. There's what's-his-name, Cotton, sitting down at the other end of the bar talking to himself. There's Sharon, in here early for some reason, stuffing money into the jukebox and swinging her hips, making a private dance in front of the machine while it yells loud inane rock lyrics into her crotch.
There's Aussie Paul, the day bartender, leaning intently over the backbar countertop reading the racing form underneath the cash register lamp. And then there's the woman who just came in.
Never saw her before. Maybe late thirties, nice little set of tits showing underneath her blouse, face etched with a few lines of wear but pleasant, trim hips wrapped in a plain skirt hanging to just above her knees. Nice ass which she plunks down on a stool six feet away from me. I'm bored so I pick up my drink and move down next to her. Might as well brighten up her day.
"Whatcha drinkin'? It's on me," I say into the side of her face. She's ignoring me.
She reaches over toward her purse and makes a move like she's gonna flee the place but then she sighs and settles down again. "A red wine," she says.
"Paul, git your ass in gear and pour this lady a glass of red! The best you got!" I holler at him. He hadn't noticed her come in.
"Thanks," she says, and then she takes a good look at me.
"I don't bite," I tell her. "I lick and I don't leave marks."
"You're hot," I reply. "I'm making a move before someone else comes in." I give Paul money for the glass of cheap wine he sets down.
"A move? God, you're crude."
"God? God made me this way for a reason. Where's your ring?"
"Your wedding ring. I see the marks. Ain't been off for long."
"Being repaired if that's any of your business," she tells me, nervously.
"Where's the hubby on this fine afternoon?" I ask her.
"He's meeting me here soon," she answers, but I know a lie when I hear one.
"Too bad. My dick was getting hard for you," I tell her. This might be a lucky afternoon. I begin to sense that she might be a live one.
"I don't like that kind of talk," she says.
"What do you like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you take it in your mouth?"
"Wow! You're too much. You're disgusting," she says.
"You love it," I tell her. I'm tempted to ask Paul to set some odds. I figure she's even money at this point.
"Don't flatter yourself," she says, but I detect a slight tremor in her voice. I gain confidence in the line I'm taking. Sometimes I can be right on.
"Feel it if you want," I suggest to her.
"These shorts are loose. Stick your hand in there. I'm not wearing my Jockeys today."
"Christ, you're an animal!" she says. She wants to do it, I just know she does.
"Touch it once and I'll leave you alone," I say to her. "I promise." That's my favorite lie.
She doesn't say anything, she doesn't make a move. With her silence I know I've struck paydirt. I'm wishing Paul was in on this. I'd give him six to five and throw all I've got on the bar... maybe thirty bucks. Damn! I don't beat him that often.
At last she takes her arm off the bar and rests her hand on her thigh and I turn to face her, my knees apart just inches from it. She doesn't look at me at all and after a few moments her hand tentatively feels its way between my knees and moves slowly up my bare thigh to the bottom of my shorts. "God help me," I hear her breath as her trembling hand pushes under the denim and her fingertips press gently into my balls. Unfortunately I hang to the other side and the backs of her fingers only brush the shank of my cock.
"Git yer hands off that poor helpless man!" Sharon yells behind us. The woman jerks her hand out of my shorts then buries her head in her hands. I can see her face take color even in the dim light. "Is this lady bothering you, Tony?" Sharon asks, then laughs and continues walking toward the restrooms at the back of the bar. The woman tries to get up off the barstool but I put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from escaping. She settles back on the stool with a sigh of resignation. There are tears in her eyes.
"What am I doing?" she sobs.
"Wheres the hubby?" I ask.
"Gone," she says.
"How long gone?"
"He's done this before?" I inquire.
"You've done this before?"
"This? No. Never."
"You need this?"
She shakes her head slowly in her hands. "I don't know," she says quietly.
"Touch it again," I coax.
"Then how will you ever know?"
"I don't want to feel this way," she says, turning to look at me again. Her eyes are puffy from her little cry.
Damn. Why does she have to make a big project out of something so simple? "Your husband's a good fuck?" I ask.
"Yes," she says weakly, but I sense that she's lying to herself more than to me. "No," she says then, turning back away from me. "He was good to me once. I think there's another woman." She buries her face back into her hands.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
"Caroline," she answers.
"Touch my cock, Caroline."
"Shit. You're a bastard."
"Touch it, Caroline. I promise I won't ask you to marry me." Some promises I can keep.
"That's funny," she says, turning to look at me again. "Aren't you afraid that I'll rip it clean out of your body?"
"It's just a dick. I'd still have my charm."
"Just a dick," she says. "How easy it would be to think of it that way, something apart from the heart."
"A plaything," I suggest.
"Yes, a toy. I suppose that is how I rationalized coming in here today."
"Do you want to go to my place?" I ask her.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Tony. I feel safe right here."
I glance around the bar. Cotton is gone. Sharon never came back. She must have gone out the back door. Paul is still handicapping the ponies. I order another round of drinks for us and when Paul goes back to his sheet I take Caroline's hand and hold it near my lap. She doesn't resist. "Touch me, sweet lady. It will make my day."
"Ah, so now I should think of it as serving your needs," she says. But she smiles.
"It's just a toy," I remind her.
She glances around the bar to gauge the privacy and then turns on her stool to face me. She takes her hand away from mine and grips my thigh firmly. "It's on the left side," I tell her and put my hands on the bar. She slides her hand back into my shorts and works her fingertips carefully over the top of my knob. I take a big gulp of my scotch as my cock grows into the palm of her hand. "Your touch is warm," I assure her.
"Don't talk, Tony. I feel very strange doing this." She takes a good grip of it and just holds on and I feel discomfort as my cock continues to swell in her hand, unable to rise properly. "This is so naughty," she remarks, "I feel..."
"Horny?" I ask.
"Something. Excited maybe." She stares down at where her hand is making awkward masturbatory tugs under my shorts and I am seriously uncomfortable.
"Please, Caroline. Let's at least go out to my car. It's parked in the back. Private. I won't lock the doors."
"Yes, I suppose..." she says, still staring down at her activity. She seems strangely entranced by it all. She continues to cause me a sweet discomfort.
"Oh, yes," she murmurs, and attempts to stand up off her stool, still gripping my cock. I take ahold of her wrist and gently wrest her hand out of my shorts. She holds her palm up and studies the small smear of viscid liquid I've left there.
"Take your purse, sweetheart," I instruct and when she picks it up I point her toward the back door.
"Oh boy, I'm very wet," she says.
"I certainly hope so," I reply.
She starts, unsteadily, toward the back and I say goodbye to Paul. "Right, have a good one," he says, not bothering to look up from his racing forms. I rearrange my cock and follow good fortune out into the parking lot.
We squeeze into the back seat of my Camaro and settle in. "I've got to let it out," I tell her and undo the front of my shorts. When my cock flips up and slaps against my stomach she leans into me and grasps it again.
"Blow me," I instruct.
"You know. Suck it. Suck my brains out."
"I don't do that," she says, sliding back away from me on the seat, still holding me firmly.
"What? Everybody sucks cock."
"I don't like it."
"Your husband? You don't suck your old man?"
"Once. He came in my mouth right away. I choked on it."
"Oh shit. Put your mouth on it, Caroline, I won't come. I promise." I'm for sure going to hell. Too many fibs in one day. Shame on me.
"I'm not wearing panties," she says. "Just let me lay down. Fuck me, Tony."
I grip her wrist and pull her hand off my cock. She moves away from me, surprised. I fold my arms on my chest and stare at her, attempting a look of reprimand.
"Please, Tony, I really hate it," she says, but I continue to stare into her eyes, giving her a good zap of my steely will.
"Damn you, Tony, please don't come," she says, leaning back towards me, uncertainly.
"I'll save it all for your pussy," I assure her, and as she grips me again and lowers her face into my lap I reach down her back and pull her blouse out of her skirt. Her hot breath wafts over my cock and I feel her wipe the tears from its eye with a fingertip before closing her lips around the swollen knob and slipping a hand underneath my balls to massage them.
"Take it in," I urge while pulling her blouse up to her shoulders and unclasping her bra. She has a nice back, smooth, with little fat. I run my hands softly up and down it, kneading the flesh alongside her spine and I feel her rise slightly off my cock and lick the hole, tasting and swallowing what she finds there and then she carefully lowers her mouth down over it again, taking it in deep, and begins a rhythmic servicing, her head bobbing up and down confidently, her tongue lapping underneath it, and while the sound of her slurping fills the quiet, punctuated occasionally by the pop of lost suction when her mouth comes off my knob, I slip my hands down alongside her sweat-moistened armpits and cup her breasts in them, discovering that she has long firm nipples. I might be in love.
"Ah, sweetheart," I purr. "You are so fine." She seems to be taking the blowjob very seriously now and a feeling of urgency begins to rise in my loins. She is a good sport. I decide not be the next bastard to come in her mouth so I let loose of her tits and lift her head out of my lap, but she continues to grip my cock, feverishly jacking me off. "Let go a minute, sweet!" I plead... "Or there will be nothing for your pussy!"
She rises up and looks me in the eyes. "Oh, oh, oh," she pants, then releases me and plants her sloppy wet lips against mine and tries to push her tongue down my throat. Droplets of snot blow against my face as her hot breath pulses through her nostrils. I finally have to grab her arms and push her an arm's length away. She relaxes a little and, gratefully, sucks long breaths through her mouth and attempts to regain a little composure.
"Damn, Caroline. You give great head," I tell her.
"Look at me, Tony! Look at this!" She smoothes her skirt out and points at a big wet stain in front of her crotch.
"You sprung a leak, woman."
"Shit, Tony. It's been two years."
"Two years? You got cobwebs down there?" I ask.
She pulls her skirt up over her hips and reveals her pussy, shaved bare, her inner thighs glistening with her juices just below it. "Not anymore!" she laughs. "When do we fuck?"
"Damn. You're bald."
"You like it? It's the first time I ever shaved it. I know, I'm a silly woman. I just wanted it to be nice for somebody." She looks back up at me. "I guess that's you if you want it."
"I want to eat it," I say, and my mouth waters in anticipation.
"Please, Tony. I don't need foreplay today. Not now. Just put your damned thing into me. I've got to feel it. I've got to feel it really bad."
A couple of cars pull into the lot as we're trying to find a comfortable way to do it on the back seat. Finally I just sit, my ass slid forward on the seat and she straddles me. I hear car doors close and the beep of alarm systems being set while I hold my cock away from my stomach so she can center her pussy over it, her arms on my shoulders and crossed behind my head. There is laughter and muffled conversation somewhere as she sits down and I enter her like a hot knife into butter. There is more talk and the crunch of workboots in the gravel of the parking lot alongside the car but she doesn't seem to notice. She settles all her weight onto my thighs and then sits there very still, her face against mine and she weeps quietly while my cock stands rigid in the warm snug slush of her cunt. She squeezes it from time to time and I wait for her to start her ride.
Finally she rises and slowly begins a deliberate up and down movement like a well-oiled piston, her quick hot breath tickling my chest hairs as she leans back to gaze down between us, watching the in and out of my cock. I reach around to support her ass with my hands. She increases the tempo of her humping and my fingers find the damp of her juices behind my cock and a fingertip slips easily into her yielding ass hole. "Oh, yes," she cries and then begins her orgasm, panting desperate breaths into my ear. "Yes, baby," I moan and give it up, pumping a furious hot load deep into the wildly thrusting socket that grips and swallows me. "Tony, Tony, Tony," she chants, continuing to ride until neither of us have anything else to give or take and then she sits gently back onto my thighs, keeping my cock held deep within her as it begins to deflate, still throbbing pleasurably.
"Don't ever take it out," she whispers, then presses her beautiful nipples into my chest and hugs me.
We stay embraced like that for a while as the product of our fuck oozes out of her and dribbles down my balls to cool in the crack of my ass. "You're leaking out of me," she says.
"I don't know, I thought maybe you pissed," I say.
"What happens now?" she asks.
"What do you mean?"
"It's my first one-night stand. How do these things end?"
"Afterplay," I reply.
"I take you home and cook us a hamburger. Then I eat your bald pussy for dessert."
She kisses me on the mouth then dismounts, sitting on the seat beside me. She takes my soggy limp cock into her hand. "I guess some things are an acquired taste," she says, lifting it to expose my balls. She bends down and licks off some of the juices that have accumulated there. When she sits back up I lean into her and run my tongue across her lips. "Well?" I ask.
"Just wanted to make sure I wouldn't starve if you can't cook," she says.
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