0 comments/ 28223 views/ 1 favorites Barfly By: Therapie The bar was smoky when I walked in, and I coughed, lighting up a cigarette so I could at least breathe without coughing. I scoped the bar and seeing no one I knew, I approached and took a seat. I gave the bartender my order, a screaming orgasm and he smirked as he walked away. After getting my drink, I turned and watched the people around me. Noticing a man sitting alone in one of the booths I approached him, drink in my hand. "You come here often?" yes it was corny but being female I don't have to have stunning pick up lines. Usually walking up a once over gives the guy all the information he needs. Big tits, lips, and ass. Green eyes and black hair. Done. He smiled at me and motioned for me to sit down. "Hi," He said, stirring his drink. "No I don't actually, I am new in town and just stopping in on the way to a friends wedding." I could not take my eyes off him, dark hair and eyes, strong build and a bulge in his pants I could not ignore. Removing my shoe, I reached my foot up, caressing his knee. Smiling at his shocked look and reached up further, feeling his hardness against my sole. "I need to take a trip to the ladies room. Care to accompany me?" I asked with a grin. Getting up, he spilled his drink across the table, but did not pause to wipe it up. "Umm....s-sure." he stammered, as I took his hand and led him to the back of the room. It was a one person bathroom and I entered, pulling him behind me and closing the door. He turned and locked it, and faced me again. I stepped forward, reaching out to touch his shoulders, running my hands down to his chest, cocking my head slyly as I explored. I moved and pressed my breasts against him, and he leaned down to kiss me. His tongue invaded my mouth roughly, and I thought of what good uses I coudl put it to later... Lifting me, he felt his cock hard against my pussy as my skirt raised and I was pressed against him. Pantiless, I wrapped my legs tighter to feel him and felt a coldness on my bare ass. As I was set upon the edge of the sink, I lifted his shirt, biting and kissing his nipples while grabbing his ass and pulling what I wanted so badly closer to me, grinding my cunt on the front of his pants. "Mmmmmm..." I moaned as he reached down, sliding the tips of his fingers up and down my slit. Such a tease, and I pressed harder, lifting my knees to my chest and leaning back a bit to give him access. He toyed with me, lightly strumming my clit as I reached up to cup my tits through my shirt before lifting it over my head. I pinched my nipples in ecstasy as he inserted one finger then two, enveloping them inside of me. I felt myself coming and he retreated, to my utter dismay. "Wha-.." I started as he brought a finger to my lips, shushing me. I could smell myself on him and this got me even hotter as I opened my mouth, sucking his finger inside. I ran my tongue over it, swirling it, and wishing it were his cock, and I reached down to unzip his pants, freeing him. I pulled at him, trying to bring him closer but he only looked me in the eyes shaking his head. I felt him push at my hole, and I spread as wide as possible to let him enter me. I felt him slide into meand heard myself moaning. "Oh god yes....please fill me with your luscious cock...ahh yes all the way." He slammed into me, and I was consumed by him. He stood back, looking down in wonder as his cock slid in and out of me, glistening with both of our juices. I reached down, circling my clit with my fingers as he pushed in and out of me, faster and faster and I reached behind him, grabbing his hair and pulling him down to bite his lips as he fucked me. Our moans intertwined, and he grabbed me savagely, setting me to my feet and turning me around to face the mirror. I could see the blood in my face, and he nibbled along my neck as he bent me over, pushing his dick against my tight assbud. He reached his hand down, rubbing my wetness all over until he was ready. I was panting in anticipation and ground my ass into him, pressing for more. Bracing his hand on my back, he slid into me and I could see him gazing back and forth from my conquered ass to my face in the mirror. I watched as I was rocked, and my breasts swayed from his thrusts. I tightened as I felt myself coming, clenching my ass around his rod, pulling it deeper and deeper with every stroke and his balls reached up, hitting my clit rhythically, and I bit my lip to keep from yelling. "Oh fuck me, you bastard! Fuck my ass! Oh please..oh shit I am coming!" I yelled at last, and I could not stop the waves of pleasure that washed over me, again and again, intensified by every inch going in and out of me. He reached up, pulling my hair so I had to see his face in the mirror, his teeth clenched as he looked me in the eyes. Letting go of my hair, he grabbed my hips, giving a few last thrusts as he neared the edge. He groaned loudly and slowed down, caressing my hips as he shuddered, emptying himself into me. I stood up, breathing hard, back against his chest as we eyed each other in the mirror. "So," He finally managed at last, "I never got your name...." Barfly It was early when she walked in the bar. About a half dozen guys on their way home from work were sitting at a table next to the darts. A regular was sitting at the near end of the bar playing video poker. His straw-hat pushed way back on his head showed the white forehead and deep red nose and cheeks of a man who worked outdoors over at the stockyards. His legs were wrapped around the stool showing the worn soles of his dusty western boots. She had been instructed to sit at the bar, but she hesitated. All the men turned to look at her. The group hardly paused in their bullshit session, but their attention briefly turned to her. The guy at the bar only glanced over his shoulder, but the heavy bartender didn't take his eyes off her. Wanting to turn around and leave, she moved haltingly toward the far end of the bar, started to drop into the booth in the back, but forced herself to take the last bar stool. It was as far from the men as she could get and still do as she had been told. She lit a cigarette. Still wearing her sunglasses, she looked over the frames to see the bar keep walking toward her. He was sizing her up, but no more than he would for any other new patron—he didn't get that many. She seemed out of place in this corner bar located between Houston's Ship Channel and a large blue-collar neighborhood. She was dressed nicer than most of the women that came there. Any woman arriving alone was fairly unusual, but that only meant she had come to meet someone. The bartender wondered who she was there to meet. He knew his clientele, and could predict the arrival and preferences of most. Since he had never seen her before he figured she was waiting for one of his regulars and was curious to know who was scoring uptown. When he got up close he saw her wedding band and a big diamond on her left hand. He guessed her age at about 45. He had noticed her nice shape when she came in silhouetted against the setting sun, but at that time he thought she was much younger. The truth was that spending enough money and time to keep in shape made her look younger than her age. Before he could ask, she ordered a glass of chardonnay, and settled for the house white wine poured from a plastic spigot in a box. She didn't care. She lit a second cigarette before the first was finished, and took some big gulps of the wine. A deep breath and she was able to look around the room. She had imagined all their eyes following her, but when she looked at the men she saw none of them looking her way. She could relax a little, but was also slightly disappointed. She looked the six guys over carefully. Average guys that one by one drifted away to their homes. The bar fly sipped his beer, played the video poker, and seemed to be in his own world. The barkeeper stayed busy wiping things. Another glass of wine, the door opened. Two young guys came in. They looked like construction workers with very long hair and beards. A single guy in his 40s with a potbelly was followed by two young men wearing neckties. Then two young women walked in followed by their dates. No one sat at the bar. No one looked at her. She ordered another glass of wine, and took her last cigarette out. She had done what she was told, but no one had paid any attention to her. When the wine came, she put her purse on the bar and fumbled for some cash. The bar tender asked if that was going to be it for the night. She said "yes," and put some cash on the bar, when he asked, "Were you supposed to meet someone here?" She looked at his eyes and said that she was but he didn't show. "Can't imagine who would stand you up...who was he anyway?" She almost choked on her words as she said, "I don't know." That stopped him. She really wanted to leave quietly, but she heard herself say, "Maybe you can help me." He raised his thick eyebrows without speaking and looked intently at her. She started to talk, got her words tangled, then started over saying, "Look, I was supposed to come here and let a guy pick me up." "Pick you up? What is this? You're married, aren't you?" "Oh, shit! I should just leave." "Wait," he said. "I want to hear this, but I gotta take care of these guys." He scooted away toward the cash register. Took their cash, rang up the sale, and returned before she could put away her purse. With both elbows on the bar, he leaned toward her, and almost whispering asked, "What's going on with you, and how could I help?" "It is like a game," she said. "I'm supposed to come here and make eye contact with a guy, flirt with him, and get him to take me home, but no one paid any attention to me. I'm kind of relieved, but I'm also embarrassed." "Let me get this straight. Your husband wanted you to come here and pick up a stranger and take him home?" "Yes...kind of. Well, no. Not my husband. My boyfriend." The bartender stood up straight and looked at the ceiling. "So", he said slowly, "what do you want from me?" "Get one of these guys come talk to me." The bartender looked at her, then over his shoulder, then back at her. "Well, if it ain't gonna be me, I know someone you might like." She took a deep breath. She was so far removed from her comfortable reality. Here she was far from her big house in a working class bar, about to be offered to a stranger by another stranger. The bartender went to the other end of the bar and through a door that had a small diamond-shaped mirrored window. In a few minutes he came back out and motioned for her to come around the bar. She stood. Her legs felt a little weak. Too much wine mixed with fear. She walked around the bar and through the door held open by the barkeeper. Inside was a small brightly lit office. It was not a mess, but definitely a working space with lots of paper stacked on the desk and tables. There was a small vinyl couch and a couple of chairs from the bar. She heard the door close. Behind the desk was a man in his late 30s. He stood up. Wearing an unstructured gray sport jacket over a black tee shirt, and triple pleated slacks, she could see that he was in very good shape. His muscles were very big—obviously a weight lifter, but not so extreme that he could have been a competitive body builder. "I don't want to offend you, but I need to make it clear that we don't allow hookers in our establishment—or cops looking for Johns either. Is that what you are doing?" "No" she stammered. "It's nothing like that." "Then what is it?" "It's just a little game. He wants me to go to a bar and flirt with a stranger and go off with him for a while." "Why does he want you to do that?" "So I can call him later and tell him about it." "Call him?" "Yes, when we have phone sex." "Phone sex?" Is your husband out of town?" "Not my husband...it's my boyfriend I'm doing it for." "Oh. I see, and you just want to get laid by a stranger, then call your boyfriend to tell him about it, right?" She looked at the floor, and quietly said, "Yes, that's right." There was a long pause. She heard him walk around the desk. She looked up to see him standing in front of her. "OK," he said. "Let me look at you." She looked at his square jaw, then up to his dark eyes under a thick brow. He had dense dark hair behind a receding hairline. She looked down at his arms folded across his chest. His hands were big with a big gold ring on each hand. His nails were professionally manicured. She could smell him, his cologne and a hint of tobacco, but she was caught by the smell of his body. He uncrossed his arms and slowly extended his hand to her face. He touched her. She looked at his chest and shoulders. He was a big man. She felt paralyzed with fear and anticipation. He lifted her chin. She looked into his eyes. He stepped back and refolded his big arms. "Raise your skirt. I want to see your legs." She hesitated. "Go on. Do what you are told." She looked down to watch her hands gather her skirt higher up her legs, but stopped just before her panties. She stopped. "The light is so bright." He didn't move for a moment. Then he slowly reached across the desk to turn on a small desk lamp before switching off the overhead fluorescent lights--much better. She knew the bright light betrayed her age, and now that the light was dimmer, she continued to raise her skirt to her waist exposing her flat tummy and firm legs. The man was looking at her legs. His arms remained folded across his chest. "Nice", he said. "Take your skirt off." She let the hem fall and unbuttoned the waist letting the skirt fall to the floor. "Now your shirt." She looked down to see her hands mechanically unbuttoning her blouse. She let it fall from her shoulders. Her bra and panties were a jungle pattern, a hint of zebra stripes. Her breasts were small but firm enough and didn't sag too much. Her butt was firm but had lost some of the roundness of youth. She was not ashamed of her body. Almost every morning she swam naked in her pool--secretly hoping the husbands of her neighborhood were watching—but she had seldom completely undressed in bright light in front of her husband or any of her lovers. Yet now she was standing in front of a stranger about to show everything. "Go on," he commanded. She unhooked her bra and slipped it from her shoulders holding her arms over her breasts realizing that it was a lame gesture of modesty. And so she lowered her panties to her knees, let them fall to her feet, and then stepped from her shoes and stood before him naked and exposed to his gaze. "Get on your knees." She lowered herself unsteadily to her knees facing him but looking at his shoes, heavy black leather with extra thick soles. His shoes moved closer to her and stopped. "Unzip my pants." She raised her eyes to his crotch, but saw no bulge. She reached for his fly and pulled down the nylon zipper. His smell was stronger. Not unclean, but intense, reminded her of moss. She reached inside and found her way over the elastic band to find his cock still soft. She pulled it over the elastic and stretched it toward her face. She could feel it filling with blood before getting it in her mouth. He pulled her head toward him and she was able to suck all of his flaccid cock into her mouth. She was for a moment able to actually suck on his cock, but soon it grew too large and he began to stroke through her hands and into and out of her mouth. His strokes became faster, and she started feeling him tremble. His cock swelled to pull the skin more tightly. His breathing grew louder. He made a groaning sound and she felt his warm cum in her mouth. The first oozed out, but the second was a powerful shot that went to the back of her throat and almost caused her to gag. There were more. She did not intend to swallow, but there was so much and she couldn't gag on it, so she swallowed what she could and the rest ran from her mouth, down her chin and onto her breasts. She started to pull away, but she held her head to his cock. She felt him grow softer, but still he held her. She swallowed reflexively again and again. Soon she was able to suck all of his cock into her mouth once more. He had not moved for several minutes. Her knees began to hurt. He pulled his soft wet dick from her mouth. "That felt very good," he said softly. "Go to the sofa." She stood slowly and took the few steps to the small couch, more of a love seat really. Room enough for two. She sat on the vinyl and folded her legs under her. "Could I have something to drink?" she asked. "Yeah, sure. What are you drinking?" "I've been drinking wine, but I want something stronger, and some water." As he zipped up his pants and walked toward the door, she thought to get a tissue from her purse to wipe the cum from her face, but instead rubbed it into her chin and chest spreading his sperm until it dried in a thin cooling crust. She smelled her hands and filled her senses with his essence with a hint of ammonia. He went through the door and quickly returned with two small glasses. Behind him was another man. He handed her the drinks. She drank all the water quickly and took a sip of the other—some kind of a vodka mix. "He is going to fuck you now while I watch. Then if I feel like it, I will fuck you too." Her heart was pounding. She was afraid, embarrassed, and excited. She looked at the other man and was disappointed to see the barfly. She leaned back in the sofa wishing she could get out of this. The manager sat behind his desk, while the other man walked to the sofa and stood looking at her. Grinning broadly he showed his crooked teeth stained by decades of chain-smoked cigarettes. "When you came in," he said, "I knew that you were here to get fucked." She started to say something, but before anything could come out, he reached down to feel her tits, and then he was on his knees kissing and sucking her breasts. His rough straw was still on his head until she pulled it off. She was going to put it on her own head, but it smelled like cigarettes and beer, so she tossed it toward the desk. He made her nipples wet and cold but involuntarily erect. His hands pushed between her legs, and she opened for him. He pushed her legs farther apart. She resisted weakly. He forced himself between her legs, and started kissing her lips. She wouldn't open her mouth for him although he tried to force his tongue into her mouth. In an uncomfortable position, she had to put one leg on the arm of the sofa to accommodate him. Somehow he managed to get his cock out of his pants and into her pussy. He was breathing heavily in her ear, but she could hear the manager talking to someone through the door. He was inside her, but she didn't feel much except his zipper. It was too late to do anything except let him fuck her. "Pull you pants down, your zipper hurts." Slowing down his strokes, he slipped his pants down just enough to get the zipper out of the way. He made no effort to please her. He just fucked for quite a while until he made a trembling moan and stopped. She assumed that he had come, but she felt nothing. The barfly got off of her and pulled his pants up. He said nothing to her, but thanked the manager, and left. She didn't feel so good. She pulled her legs back under her while the manager sat next to her. "That didn't do much for me, but I liked the way you sucked my cock, so I want you to do it again." She was more than willing to let him get on her and use her pussy, but just sucking his cock was not much fun. Still, she got on her knees again between his legs. His cock was already out of his pants, and it was almost hard. She thought that once he got excited, perhaps he would want to be in her pussy. She could feel the hard chamber slightly beneath his soft skin. His dick still tasted of his cum. Her mouth watered. His cock got slick and wet. She could feel his pelvis start to stroke, when she heard the door open. She tried to pull away, but strong hands held her head in his lap. "Get ready," he told someone. She felt his cock soften a little then grow strong again as he fucked her face. He removed one hand from her head and gestured to the other person who immediately began touching her ass and legs. She was sure it was a man by the size of his hands, and a workingman from the rough texture of his palms. He rubbed her back and reached under to feel her stomach, which she sucked in, and her breasts, which were hanging down between the manager's legs. Then the man she couldn't see slipped his finger into her crack and found her pussy very wet with her juices and the Barfly's cum. He gently stroked her clit—the first to make an effort to give her any pleasure. He pushed a big finger into her, then another. He stopped. She concentrated on the cock in her mouth. She wanted the young manager to fuck her, but figured that the unseen man would fuck her first. She was resigned to being held in this position until the man with the muscles had come in her mouth again. But it didn't work out that way. She could hear the man behind her undressing. She felt him positioning between her ankles. She raised her ass to receive him. She could feel his cock probing her slit and almost stopped her rhythmic work on the manager. The cock working its way into her pussy was large and hard as a pipe. Not so large that it hurt, but filling. She gave up on thinking. She became a sex object for these men to use—her reason for being there--and they used her for what seemed a long time. At one point she thought the manager was going to cum, but he pulled her head off his cock, and the other man pulled out at the same time. They pushed her back on the couch, and for the first time she could see the other man. It was the bartender. He was a really big man with a big belly, big arms, big legs, and a big cock. He was firm and very hairy, scary looking, but he treated her tenderly. He pulled her across the length of the sofa kissing her thighs. He licked her clit lightly causing her to shudder. He kissed her tummy and her tits. He kissed her neck and her mouth and as his cock slid back into her, she opened her mouth to allow his tongue to explore hers. She wondered if he could taste his boss's cum. She raised one leg to the back of the sofa and the other around his back. His knees were on the floor, but this position on the small sofa was still uncomfortable with such a big man on top of her. She asked if they could move to the floor. He picked her up, with his cock still in her, and moved her to the carpet. He pulled her knees up high and took his weight off her so that he was on his hands and knees while his dick pushed deeply into her. She was free to grind her cunt against his hairy belly and felt an orgasm building inside. As she began to come her moans grew to a shrill cry. When her orgasmic spasms began to subside, she felt the big man increase the speed of his strokes. "Come on her face," the manager said, and the bartender did as he was told. She opened her mouth for him but most of his thick juices splashed across her face and into her hair. What went into her mouth was very thick and tasted like bitter palm flowers. He raised himself from her, leaving her on the floor exhausted with her legs spread and rivulets of cooling cum slowly running down her cheeks. He said nothing but dressed quickly and left the room. After catching her breath she saw that the manager had undressed but was still holding the silver buckle of his leather belt. His body was big and chiseled. All his body hair had been removed. His muscles rippled in the glowing light. His cock was hard. "Now you are going to get fucked the way your boyfriend wants." Barfly [I wrote and posted this story to alt.sex.stories a little less than ten years ago, under the nom-de-plume DYS. I've changed the ending a bit since that version.] * Flattening your butt at a low-rent bar after work when you've got a good wife isn't the smartest thing to do, so I was doing it. This place, named with originality and creativity The Watering Hole, wasn't exactly the summit of sleaze but it wasn't one of those chrome-plated yuppie joints either, where movers and shakers had their power thises and thatses and decided what life should be like for the rest of us. From my perch in an ill-lit corner I was absorbing overpriced and watered-down booze while watching the cast assemble for that evening's late matinée. All the characters were in their places: the 'tender struggling to keep up with customer demands and stay one step ahead of crushing boredom, and finding the latter by far the greater challenge; the businessmen looking down their drinks like microscopes, trying to dissolve the day's frustrations in a solvent known as ethanol; the bouncer, quietly and unobtrusively standing out like a lighthouse, and... And the woman. There's always one, isn't there? You know her: the one who gets your attention and then won't give it back. The one who, without the slightest effort, takes center stage and makes it her own, with all the spotlights, in the form of male eyes, fastened on her like scales on fish. This one was right out of central casting: the face that would launch a thousand ships even from dry-dock, the aloof and nonchalant air, the cigarette held just so, the body sculpted by Phidias under the direction of Rubens - the whole bit. And the dress! Talk about packaging that sells! This one was a black number, a cocktail dress with a little lace trim around the collar that gave just a hint of a French-maid look and sequins on the bodice, in the middle. On either side of the sequins dwelt a pair of breasts that needed no enhancement but were getting it anyway from the clingy, conforming texture of the fabric which, even from my relatively distant vantage point, displayed the nipple of her nearer breast like a watch in a display-case. Of the eyes locked upon her in that dim-lit dive four were positioned on either side of her, trying to get lucky and succeeding the way the Congress succeeds at balancing budgets. Not for lack of trying, to be sure; our heroine hadn't lacked for libation in a long time and her cigarettes were always lit before she even had time to ask. It's kinda sad to see a guy whose main emotion at a given time is frustration trying to make like it's supreme confidence oozing with power. I know; just like most every male who's hit puberty and experienced it hitting back, I've been there. More than once. I knew that tonight I wouldn't--I couldn't--limit my study of this scenario to my usual armchair anthropology. Not with that particular creature within the range of my eyesight, and with even the remotest possibility of getting her in range of other things. Was it right? No. Now that that's been discussed, let's move on... I knew that one of the wannabees would give up eventually, and I was patient enough to wait. Sure enough, in time I felt the slide of the vinyl as my rear took its place on the seat beside her and the rest of me followed along. There was no reason whatsoever to think that anything I could say would accomplish any more than what my predecessor and his competition on her other side had said, so I tried anyway. "Like a little company?" Original. "Why? You got one to sell? Or are you rich enough to give them away?" Got a wit, I see, and with teeth. I tried to acknowledge that with a properly impressed and pleased facial expression. If the message got through, though, there was no sign of it on her beautful, impassive face. I could see a poorly suppressed glower on the face of the gentleman on her opposite side; perhaps I was already getting more action out of her than he had. The idea was reassuring. A little. What did men do to hit on women before language was invented? Without clever opening lines to have to dream up, things must have been a lot simpler. The cartoon image of the caveman dragging the cave-lady to his cavern by her hair after clubbing her senseless came to mind. Yep; a lot simpler. "I'm working on it. Have a bid in for General Motors." "Oh, yeah. How much?" "We're still negotiating. They want more than I'm offering." "No kidding! I don't suppose that's ever happened before. How far apart are you?" "12.8 gigabucks. But we're narrowing." She snorted softly. "That's the entire stockholders' equity for GM. That means your offer was zero, big shot." "Actually, more like about $150. I rounded off a bit. I wanted to keep my Visa under limit." She had placed another cigarette between her sultry lips and I didn't miss the cue. A match was on its way instantly. I noticed that she never drew on the cigarette and got the distinct impression she was a nonsmoker trying to look the part of the stereotypical bar slut and the cigarette was a prop. This isn't a bar, I thought. It's a stage set. "I see you keep your eye on the Fortune 500," I commented. She fixed a withering look on me. "You think I sit home and watch soaps all day? Wake up pal; think that the fact that I have tits means I shouldn't care about such things?" I wasn't sure if this was her personal feminist manifesto or a green light to more openly admire her highly admirable breasts. I decided to chance it. Cautiously. "I had noticed them... er, that." "You're not exactly the first. They do have a way of getting attention. Maybe because my nipples always arrive where I'm going five minutes before the rest of me does." She's toying with me, I thought with a visceral shudder. Cat and mouse and she was playing her part to perfection. So, I realized, was I. Helplessly, I found myself sputtering. "They are beautiful. And the beauty doesn't stop there." Shut up, you moron! You're rushing it; you'll scare her off! But her face remained as impassive and inscrutable as ever. She motioned to the 'tender with the haughty confidence of a 19th-century aristocrat summoning a domestic. Wordlessly, she nodded to her empty glass and presently the jaded fellow returned with a fresh edition of her preferred libation. Naturally, I paid for it. Some time passed and she said nothing. Too much time. I had blown it, I was convinced; I overplayed my hand and she's freezing up. I silently sighed. Perhaps it's just as well... She broke the silence. "You think so, pal? So what do you wanna do about it?" My senses were jerked back into place with the impact of a pile driver. Just as I was bemoaning my lost chances she had restored them with what was nearly a direct invitation! "Well, whatever it is, it isn't going to happen here," I breathed, trying to subdue the trembling in my voice. This lady's got something, something that has me scampering by remote control. She's got a leash around my neck and I can do nothing but follow her lead. I momentarily marvelled at the power she had to compel me to seek out her every wish and accommodate it. I hope she's more impressed by my in-control act than I am, I mused. "Whaddaya say we adjourn to more, shall we say, private quarters?" "Fine with me, big boy. Lead the way." My heart leapt. It was going to happen! This marvellous creature was mine, at least for the moment. The sensation of walking a tightrope, aware that the slightest slip meant a worse than painful fall, was fully occupying my consciousness. But she had spoken the words, broken the tension. She was willing to follow me, follow me somewhere, and I was desperately scanning my brain cells for a clue as to where that should be. I rose from my seat and took her proffered hand and she made her way beside me to the door with a grace and style that were obviously very well practiced. Rough-edged, I thought, but there's a real lady under that shell, somewhere. We walked to my car wordlessly. Nothing that came to mind to say seemed to be likely to accomplish anything but spoil it all, and she seemed content with the silence. When we were seated I turned to her and smiled, just to try to melt the ice a bit. I was more than a little surprised when she returned the smile, then gently grabbed my tie and drew my face to hers. Her eyes closed before I even realized what my next cue would be, and in an instant, our lips had joined. She had an aggressive tongue, something else clearly well-practiced. And the fire she kindled with it was vigorous enough, I could see, to consume me in mere minutes. And there was nothing I welcomed more. Trembling and trying not to show it, I turned the key. The day had become hazy, as if my intense preoccupation with the woman beside my was displacing the very awareness of the rest of the entire world. What is it with her, and with me? She's just a stranger, a typical bar dame. Why do I feel like a schoolboy on his first date? My attempts at conversation were short-lived and ineffectual, but I wasn't worried. She had placed her lush body in such a way that she could rest her head on my shoulder despite the bucket seats. I did my best to make it easy for her and it paid off. Her fingertips were tracing the length of my tie, now loosening it and my collar, now unfastening the top buttons of my shirt. Presently I felt the contact of her fingertips on my chest and the pounding of my racing heart was becoming an audible drumbeat, my ears almost ringing with the pressure. No cheap motel, I thought. This calls for something classy. But what? Then I remembered. The company suite! My firm kept a swanky apartment handy for lodging important guests. And I was in a position to know that it was currently not in use. What better choice? "Where are we headed?" Her question, merging so perfectly with my thoughts at the moment, was jarring. But I landed on my feet. "You'll see, and you'll like what you see." "Sail on, sailor!" She nestled her head even more warmly against my quivering neck. I thought I'd explode. The lobby of the hotel where our suite was located was precisely the glittering environment that the bar we had just left wasn't. There were only a few especially elegant places in our city, and this was one of them. I hoped she'd be impressed. In fact, I felt, she'd damn well better be. It just doesn't get much better than this. We paused at the lounge for a quick one, partly to shift gears from the dive where we'd met up to the standards of a real class operation. She seemed to respond, shedding some of that gritty exterior. I was beginning to feel transformed myself, as if the change I saw in her were of my own doing. Pure fantasy, I knew, but I indulged it. Why not? When a waitress who would have done justice to any New York chorus line arrived to take our order, I felt a twinge of guilty embarassment. After all, my wedding band was in plain sight while my companion's hands were completely unadorned. At the thought I glanced at her left hand and got the fleeting impression of a cheater's ring. I wondered, but not for long. There were more important considerations at hand. If our server had noticed, there was nothing in her expression to betray it. We absorbed our drinks amid quiet conversation, and I was increasingly amazed at how warm and friendly she was becoming. She's an emotional chameleon, I concluded, changing her style in response to her surroundings. I hoped the surroundings on the fortieth floor would bring about further changes-the right kind. Before I knew it, we were in the car of the elevator, and I would soon find out. Exiting the car her step was eager, her pace brisk, as if the compelling fire that drove me on were igniting within her as well. She was actually laughing, a girlish, plaintive laughter, as I fumbled for the key the concierge had given me when I identified myself. "Dance with me," she said when the door had closed behind us, in a husky imperative that left me not the slightest choice. I'm no Fred Astaire but she made up for it, taking my awkward lead with the same smooth grace she had shown on her way out of The Watering Hole. In a minute I was actually comfortable, gliding to the music of the sound system there and responding to the heat her body was radiating into mine as she pressed ever more closely. I knew I was lost, lost in this beautiful, amazing woman's paradise, and could have wished for nothing better. Our dancing became slower, more intimate, and she was again unbuttoning my shirt. The simple suggestion in this little action was far more powerful than it had been in the car, and, only half aware of it, I found my hands beginning to explore her body. She responded only with increased ardor, completing her task and tossing my shirt to one side. My palms were now freely roaming her perfectly rounded hips and buttocks, tracing the contours of her forbidden regions with all of Nature's driving urgency. When I moved to stand beside her and place my hand over her breast she responded by drawing the fabric of her clinging dress aside, placing my hand directly on the fleshy, warm, incredibly inviting mound. It was dizzying, the pace that had taken over us, and she clearly was as caught up in it as I. In a moment I had slipped the shoulder straps of her dress aside and she then pushed me gently away, signaling me to sit on the bed. There, my eyes at a level just above her navel, I stared raptly as she began swaying that stunning body in rippling, sinuous waves, fixing a seductive smile on me that rendered me helpless - beyond helpless. Smoothing her hands over her breasts and hips she exerted the exact pull necessary to draw the dress from her body. Stepping out of it she revealed that she was clad only in a pair of silk panties obviously designed strictly for the purpose of seduction. The dark region of her pubic hair was plainly mapped behind the sheer fabric of the garment, accentuated but not concealed by the wispy, decorative patterns thereon. My gaze traveled from her glistening eyes to her seductive mouth, then to the firm, perfectly-formed breasts and from there to those hips undulating before me. My expectant cock was long since fully erect, aching to be released from the confinement of my remaining clothes. Her movements arrested me, and I became transfixed as she set her nether regions into motion, sliding down her panties with excruciating, delicious slowness. A millimeter at a time, she exposed her flesh, finally passing the wispy garment to the floor. Straightening up, she parted her legs and placed herself on mine, grasping the back of my neck hungrily as she pressed her lips once again against mine. If I thought she was aggressive before, I could not have even imagined her as she was now. This outclassed that time by light-years. She was like a being possessed, kissing, sucking, drawing on me as if she wanted to pull my entire being inside her. I broke free and moved my lips and hands to those heaving breasts, savoring the sensation of her nipple on my lips and tongue. She emitted a gasp of pleasure, pulling my head more firmly against her chest, and I responded automatically with more energetic attentions. Shortly thereafter she rose with a sudden move, as if some new force had taken over her. She pulled me to my feet and set about removing my pants and shorts with demonic fervor. My cock, freed of its confinement, sprang forth powerfully and she caressed it as if it were a prize, sending one wave of ecstasy to my brain after another. I was presently aware of a new sensation: the closing of her lips around my rampant shaft. With perfected aplomb she ministered to it with her lips and tongue, expertly managing to drive it, and me, to peaks of pleasure without sending me over the brink. "Come on, big boy; let's see what you can do for a lady!" She strode purposefully to the bed, taking me with her by the hand. She lay back, the knee of her far leg raised, while she fixed alternately smiling and pouty looks upon me and caressed her breasts. I wasted no time. I buried my face between those exquisitely tapered legs and sought the point of her waiting clitoris while simultaneously reaching inside her to please her G-spot. In no time she was emitting a cascading series of moans and thrusting her hips toward my face. She was out of control, and that made two of us. Probing her clit, then her labia with my tongue while constantly smoothing my free hand over those splendid breasts, I felt the heat rising, growing as it flowed from one of us to the other and back again. It was time. I rose, kissed her again and felt her hands on my back, drawing us together. My cock was a ramrod of quivering steel, begging for the sweet environs that awaited it. And as I lost myself even further in her embrace I felt the blessed contact of what is mine and what is hers, and in a moment, the warm, wet sensation of my flesh completely enclosed by hers. It was difficult, damn difficult, to keep control, but I managed. She seemed to know me, knowing precisely when to hit the accelerator and when to put on the brakes. Our union was timeless, at once eternal and instantaneous. It mattered little where we were or what was happening anywhere else. This was our moment, our own corner of the space-time continuum, and there was not one part of me that cared to be bothered with anything but that. And it was plain that the lady who was one flesh with me felt precisely the same way. By force of will I managed to leave her body long enough for her to turn over so I could enter her from behind. Her gasps and moans increased as my loving shaft probed even more deeply in this position. My hands moved freely from her buttocks to her breasts, tweaking her nipples as I continued my mad thrusting into her sweet body. She was meeting every stroke with her own movements and that precarious control was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. I separated from her once again and she resumed the traditional position. We were not merely united at our groins; our eyes, our mouths, our entire beings were locked in the Dance of Oneness. The glistening of her deep, inviting eyes seemed brighter than ever as my gaze meshed with hers. There was no longer any thought of control or restraint; I knew it would be over soon. She sensed that too, and began thrusting back with wild abandon, speeding me to climax. I heard her reach a climax of her own, then another, and yet a third as my own raced toward me. The pressure in my loins was radiating throughout my being; I could feel it in my ears and my eyes seemed to be ready to burst from the swelling waves. In a gasp I announced that it was time and she responded with a low moan that rapidly crescendoed into almost a scream. We were now pulsing with jackhammer intensity and in seconds I felt that first delicious contraction as my seed spewed deep within her. One after another, each wave of orgasm passed over me, enveloping me, consuming me. The spurts were rapid and deep, draining me it seemed, spilling forth my entire essence into this incredible lady's body. Slowly, ever so slowly, the peak of passion subsided, mellowing into a sweet, warm embrace. The smile she radiated would have graced the finest of fine art, sweet and yet sensual, a melding of the innocent and the passionate. I wished I could store that vision forever, somehow keeping it where I could experience it again and again. I collapsed beside her, my breath coming in deep, desperate gasps. As she turned to nestle against me, I could see her fingers trembling from the depths she had experienced. She fell against me as if every ounce of her strength had been spent, and I felt the rapid cycling of her breathing against my neck. It seemed like hours, sweet, warm hours, before either of us had recovered enough strength to speak. Barfly It was she who first broke the silence. "They oughta make this an Olympic event, so you could get the gold medal, big boy." I was more than a little pleased with the statement, to be sure. "It's the company I keep," I responded, smiling. We must have fallen asleep; the waning afternoon had passed fully into darkness when I was once again aware of my surroundings. My friend awoke and joined me in the shower, where our mutual caresses once again ignited our animal instincts. Barely bothering to towel off, we leapt to the bed, rapidly resuming our sacred dance with unimpaired gusto. The sensation of her flesh surrounding mine was indescribable, and I knew this was right, proper, the way things should be. It was after eight when we were once again in my car. "Shall I drive you home?" I asked, automatically. "Good going, Professor; how will I get my car home if you do that?" There was just a trace of the bar slut in her sharp comment, but it seemed almost an affectation; she was grinning when she said it. I think she took it as a compliment that I was in a somewhat addled condition. And little wonder that I was. It was a wonder that I could remember the way back. The Watering Hole was noisy, harsh and glaring, and we gave it barely a glance on the way to her car. There we embraced, kissed and parted reluctantly. I knew that this would not be the last time. *** I took my time returning home. Lorraine was waiting. A town council meeting of sorts was scheduled that evening. My exertions left me rather disinclined to go anywhere, but there was business on the agenda that we did not want to miss and, thanks to my activities, we were already late. Lorraine and I rummaged through the closet, I choosing a tie to wear while she agonized over the choice of a dress. I heard the sound of a hanger being drawn from the rod spanning the closet. "I just can't seem to choose the right one tonight." There followed a thoughtful pause. "How about this one? How do you suppose this will go over at our soporific town meeting? Hmm?" I turned toward her, knowing exactly what I would see. There, draped on the hanger she held just below the level of her sparkling eyes and her impish, tempting grin, was the dress in question, a black cocktail dress with a little lace trim around the collar that gave just a hint of a French-maid look and sequins on the bodice, in the middle...