| Codes:
FFF/F+, squirting Summary: Since Christie was the last of her circle of friends to turn twenty-one, it was decided that their first night on the town together should a bar hopping extravaganza of epic proportions. But, when they start the evening off with cheap shots at a remote dive, will they even make it to the next bar? Author's Note: As with all of these tales, I can only pass on what I hear from the regulars down the street. The most incredulous part of this story, however, may be that anyone would consider The Ash a proper venue for a birthday party. |
| The four young women sat in the corner booth closest to
the front door.
At one time they might have had a view of
the street, an irregular square of plaster covering over the table
like the ghost of a window. These days, however, sunlight never
seemed to penetrate far into the Ash Street Tavern and the bar's
only
illumination came from a dozen sickly
incandescent bulbs and the dim smiles of regulars drinking
alone. "Your tiara is slipping, Christie," Jan said. The gold-ish hue of the plastic was almost lost in Christy's carrot-red curls. Despite the bleak interior of the establishment, the party lit up the corner booth with their brightly colored dresses and makeup. Not to mention their laughter, which seemed as out of place here as a neon Budweiser sign at the bottom of a well. "Oops," the birthday girl giggled and adjusted her plastic crown. "Do we have a princess visiting us tonight?" the girls were startled by the appearance of a cocktail waitress, dusky and exotic, who delivered her inquiry with such an even tone that it seemed she would not be surprised if they were actually a royal entourage. "Just a 'princess-for-the-day'," offered Lori, a bespectacled blonde who had whizzed up a rainbow of margaritas for the girls at her condominium prior to leaving for the bars. "Our little girl has finally turned twenty-one," chimed in Ellen. "I'm only two months younger than you!" Christie tossed a peanut shell at her thin and sarcastic drinking mate. "Well, congratulations," the cocktail waitress' pistachio eyes were striking, drawing the redhead's attention away from the enormous breasts wobbling on her otherwise petite and diminutive frame. "Perhaps I could interest you in one of our house shots, then?" "Um, sure," Christie coughed, fidgeting with a scarlet curl. "What do you recommend?" "For you," the waitress paused, chewing on her lower lip. "I think you should try the 'Sugar Pussy,'" "Make it a round of them," Ellen said, digging through her purse, "and put it on my tab," "The shots are on the house, consider it a birthday present from the bar," The strange cocktail waitress grinned and captured Ellen's credit card in her long, delicate fingers, "but I can put a pitcher of draft on this, if you like," "Um, sure," Ellen was not normally one to be speechless, but before she could clear her throat, the busty waitress was swaying towards the bar. A dim silence passed through the group of friends as they watched her relay the order to the tall and attractive bartender. Returning moments later with a tray of shots and a pitcher of tepid beer, Christie swore she saw one of those pistachio eyes wink at her. "God, I hope she has a good chiropractor!" Ellen snickered as the cocktail waitress once again receded from earshot. "No shit, even I feel sorry for her," Jan said, her own DD-cleavage at least well supported by a sturdy frame. "Okay, girls," Lori lifted her shot glass without spilling a drop of the hot pink liquid inside, "Here's to Christie's Epic Twenty-First Birthday Booz-a-palooza!" "Thank you," Christie, who had been drinking with the older girls for years, sucked down the shot and smiled. It was sweet, but also tangy and a little bit acidic. Like the red sauce she always dunked her egg rolls in at her favorite Chinese restaurant. Her friends, too, licked their lips, and the whole corner was brighter again as they filled their glasses from the pitcher. "So, where should we go after this?" Jan asked, finishing her second glass. "I think we should take her to the Galaxy Club," Lori suggested. "No way, I am not going back there with you again- you were so WASTED last time," Ellen groaned before recounting for the benefit of the other girls yet another tale of Lori's legendary lack of self-restraint while intoxicated. The blonde rolled her eyes, but grinned, especially when Ellen pantomimed her booze-saturated friend's expensive and rambling order at last call: "...You were ordering shots like the plane was about to crash and you'd never drink again," Christie, red-faced, lost her composure at this point, snorting loudly as she tried to catch her breath. On cue, the remaining three girls picked up their glasses and drank. The red-headed young woman's embarrassing laugh had been turned into a drinking game long ago. Wiping her eyes, Christie felt light headed. She had been slouching and spreading her legs, giving anyone walking by a perfect crotch-shot of her yellow, floral print panties. "Excuse me," Sitting up and pulling her knees together, a hot-cold sensation swept over the birthday girl and she tasted sweet-sour again. The sensation was followed by an urgent pressure on her bladder. "Where are you going?" Jan asked. "Just to the bathroom," she giggled, using one of her busty friend's favorite expressions, "I gotta go squeeze the lemon," The women's restroom was the worst Christie had ever seen. The linoleum was cracked and warped and there were several ceiling tiles missing. If it weren't for the lack of any urinals, she would have thought that she had mistakenly entered a men's room. Her bladder, however, had no discretion, forcing her into the cleanest stall she could find without even enough time to put down toilet paper on the seat. Lingering in the stall, the young woman wasn't surprised that the drinks were making her feel a little horny. Her last serious relationship had been when she was a freshman in college, and that had ended badly. Looking down at the tightly sealed lips between her legs, she considered again taking matters into her own hands. She couldn't do that, however, Christie knew that terrible things happened when she did that. After pulling up her panties and smoothing the front of her dress, Christie walked to the sink, praying that one of the grimy soap dispensers actually worked. Halfway across the bathroom, however, ten pounds of nausea dropped into her stomach and she stumbled forward the rest of the way. Her throat tightened and she spat out a mouthful of thick syrup. "Oh, my gosh," she said before another involuntary stomach contraction filled her mouth with more of the sticky, sweet fluid. She missed the sink this time, and a few drops of the hot pink syrup splattered across her shoes, the hem of her dress. She still felt queasy, but not the way alcohol usually made her sick. Christie's stomach lurched and groaned as it had on those Halloween nights when, as a child, she had eaten too much candy at once. Realizing there were no paper towels in the rusty metal dispensers, Christie looked around for someplace to wipe her mouth. Seconds later, Jan burst into the bathroom, her broad bust nearly hopping out of her cleavage-friendly dress. She had her hands over her mouth and it looked like she was gagging on something. Before Christie could offer her friend any help, however, Jan leaned over an empty sink and let an eighteen inch, pink slug roll out of her mouth. When Christie started screaming, her friend twisted her head unnaturally, like a marionette in the trembling hands of a drunk. Ripping the neck of her dress all the way to her bellybutton, Jan marched towards the terrified birthday girl. Her eyes had clouded over, but her foot and a half long tongue led the way, tasting Christie's sweetness in the air with a sinister back and forth motion. "Jan, stop it! What are you doing?" the terrified young woman backed against the broken tiles of the far wall. Her friend continued to zombie-walk towards her, groping her own tits with such desperation that they popped out of her plus-sized, control top bra. Before long, Jan had trapped Christie's body against the wall with her own. "Help! Help!!" Christie's hopes rose as the bathroom door swung open again, only to be dashed when she saw the tattered scraps of clothing clinging to Lori and Ellen's half naked bodies. Their tongues probed the atmosphere like adders, leading them to where Jan was pawing at her redheaded friend, her tongue wrapping around her neck and probing the ridges of her ear. Fighting her friends as they dragged her to the center of the room, Christie began feeling sticky again, her sweat clinging to her skin like corn syrup. As it had in the bathroom stall, that gooey feeling filled her brain. Throwing up had cleared her mind before, but her efforts were blocked by Ellen's long, powerful tongue pushing its way down her throat. Not knowing what else to do with it, Christie started sucking. "Mrrggrph," Christie deep throated Ellen's tongue until their lips met, while the rest of the birthday party shredded her clothing. The sensation of their tongues lifting her tits, leaving saliva trails down her flat stomach quickly reduced the rest of Christie's brain to a wad of used bubble gum. Sugar glistening on her thighs, the princess of the evening let her eyes glaze over as Jan's tongue slithered up her flame crowned pussy. Ellen and Lori cradled the birthday girl's head, their nimble and surprisingly strong tongues squeezing her breasts and teasing her stiff, caramel nipples. Christie could feel Jan's pulse through the walls of her cunt as the long and flexible organ inside her wriggled and throbbed. "Stop it, please!" A final, desperate fury of consciousness surfaced from beneath the bath of liquid candy immersing her brain. She pulled the muscles of her cunt tight, remembering soiled sheets and the disgusted looks of boys. But Jan wouldn't listen, folding her tongue over to caress her nub while the rest of the extra long organ continued to pump in and out of her body. Ellen and Lori's hands were all over her body, mindlessly moaning as they continued devouring her with their tongues. "You going to make me do something disgusting!" Just then, the door swung open, it's rusty hinges screaming in protest. Christie turned her head, and her ears turned as bright red as her hair as a tall, wraith of a woman glided into the bathroom. She was dressed like a hooker from some lost Victorian novel, her frilly black minidress riding up thighs encased in fishnet stockings. Her stiletto heels were as sharp as syringes, but nimbly crossed the broken floor with the poise of a lifelong street walker. From behind lashes curved like fishhooks, she surveyed the four naked women shamelessly fornicating in the center of the room. "Please," Squeezing every muscle she still had control of, the Christie pleaded with the stranger to help, or at least not to judge. "Tart," the ghostly woman said, flashing a smile that was all canines before locking herself in a stall. "Tart," the young woman repeated, turning the word over in her mouth like a jawbreaker. It sounded sweet, like a pet name rich with pastry cream and warm honey. Christie wanted her future husband to call her a "tart," on their wedding day as he lifted her dress and railed her in front of the entire church. Grabbing Ellen and Lori's hair in her fists, she threw her head back and roared. Her pussy exploded, spraying Jan's face with a deluge of feminine juices. Just as it had the last time, three years ago in her boyfriend's dorm room, Christie's body convulsed, squirting and spraying as her brain was once again engulfed in a sticky, warm syrup. Only this time, there were no accusations, no tearful sprint home wearing nothing but a towel. Jan was on the receiving end, and her busty friend happily withdrew her tongue and let the birthday girl's juices wash over her. The rest of the party, too, joined in the clean up efforts, their serpentine tongues licking every drop off Jan's face and between the busty woman's enormous breasts. The ghostly stranger said nothing as she emerged from the stall and stepped over the post-orgasmic young woman, but flashed another toothy grin as she washed her hands and left. Christie smiled back at her and coated her fingers in her own juices. Sucking the digits like a mouthful of lollipops, she tasted pink cotton candy. Between her legs, Lori was begging for a taste from behind her thick, black framed glasses. Christie nodded and let her have one. It didn't take long. Nor did Ellen have to wait, especially after Jan and Lori had removed the red head's shoes and were adroitly caressing her toes with their tongues. When it was all over, and the four girls were quietly cleaning Christie's sweetness off each other's bodies, the birthday girl sighed and licked her lips. She had come more in the past hour than the previous four years, yet a cloying nausea continued to tug at her lower belly, and she knew she still had so much more sugar to give. Her honey pot dripping onto the floor, Christie opened the bathroom door wearing nothing but her earrings and a plastic tiara. When she saw the bar filling with its increasingly strange and depraved clientele, she smiled and walked into the crowd like a kid in a candy store. THE
END
|
| Postscript:
Of course, no
dispatch from the Ash would be complete without another page torn from
the bartender's guide. After giving the cocktail waitress an
exhausting, if not entirely unpleasant, tongue-lashing, she indulged my
requests for the secret recipes for this house
specialty. Make sure
you
have a doctor, if not a priest, on speed dial before attempting to
make any of these drinks. Sugar
Pussy
1.25 oz spiced rum
0.75 oz Sweet and Sour syrup Combine in a shaker full of ice and stir. Strain into a shot glass. *To make Sweet and Sour syrup combine 3 parts quality rice wine vinegar with 1 part simple syrup. In the original recipe, the color comes from the "menses of a Vestal Virgin," but as those are in short supply these days, I substitute a few drops of red food coloring, although I'm sure Grenadine could suffice as well (although it may throw off the taste). |
| Back to Home | Sweet Stories | Spicy Stories |