You walk into the bar, eyeing two open bar stools. One is next to a group of guys who look to you get than you. Frat boys no doubt. You don’t have the time or patience to deal with them and their selfish sexual needs. There’s another one open next to a man who looks to be in his thirties. You hesitate taking it wondering if he is there with his wife. Your luck with love hasn’t been the best lately. The last man; married with two kids and you didn’t even find out until three months into the relationship, which you ended promptly.
You decide to go for the empty stool next to the older gentleman.
“Is this seat taken?” You ask him. He looks at you, eyeing the new tight black dress you bought from an online store just two days prior.
“Not at all.” He says.
You eye his left hand lucky to be standing on that side as you sit down. No ring, but that didn’t stop the last guy who removed his every time you saw him.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks.
“Sure.” You say, knowing you left everything at home. You know the owner so no need for an I.D.
“What’s your poison?” He asks.
“Vodka.” You say.
“In a mixed drink?” He asks.
“Double shot.” You respond.
He smiles. He is hot. His dark hair, blue eyes and chiseled jawline and dimple in his chin remind you of a Hollywood actor and you wonder for a moment if maybe, just maybe he is an actor.
The bartender greets you and the man interjects with your order. You smile at him. “So what do you do for a living?” If he’s the one you’re gonna fuck tonight, he can’t be living in his parents basement.
“I’m a writer.” He says.
“What do you write?” You ask as the bartender puts the shot down in front of you. Tossing your head back, you take it without wincing and get a sly look from the man.
“I write the political pieces for the Gazette.” He says. “And I’ve published a couple novels.”
Bingo. You know why he seems familiar like an actor. You’ve seen his picture in the paper next to cleverly written articles on things going on in politics both locally and nationally. But you can’t recall his name.
“What’s your name? I thought you looked familiar.” You say.
“Derek Weathers.” He says. “What’s yours?”
You like that he isn’t droning on and on about his writing. You can’t stand men that do that sort of thing. “Samantha. But everyone just calls me ‘Sam’.”
“Nice to meet you Sam.” He says.
“Is Derek the name you use for your writing?” You ask.
“No. I use a pen name. I’d rather not say. I’m not too open about it.” He says.
“Maybe you can show me your books sometime.” you say.
“Maybe.” He says with a wink and indicates to the bartender to get you another shot. He’s trying to get you drunk, and you’re loving it. Then he looks at you and a heat-filled desire rises in you. “What do you do?” You ask.
Should I tell him the truth? You think. You don’t really go into detail much about what you do for a living. People in your city were far too judgmental. But that was Florida for you.
“I make videos.” You say hoping to leave it at that.
“Like YouTube?” He asks.
You shrug. “Sorta.” You take your second shot and the bartender puts another one down in front of you. You take that one as well. Three double shots in and you know you don’t want to get sloppy if you want to get lucky. So you decline anymore.
“Are you single?” He asks, finishing off his own drink and picking up the second one the bartender had left there a few minutes ago.
“Yes. Are you?” You eye him for any hint of hesitation. Any hint of lying. The signs you missed the last time, you would be able to figure out for sure this time.
“Nope.” He says.
“How old are you?” You ask, nonchalantly but on the inside you’ve been all but dying to ask it.
“35. And you?”
He looks at the frat boys sitting at the opposite side of the bar. “Why aren’t you talking to them?”
“I like my men older.” You say.
“Oh yeah? And what do you like about them?” He asks.
“They’re less selfish when it comes to sex.”
He laughs. “I don’t know about that. I’ve got some friends that are pretty selfish when it comes to their wives.”
“Are you selfish?” You don’t care about his friends. Just him.
“I’ve been known to give a few dozen orgasms.”
You’re wet. You want him. You want to know what he looks like naked. You want to taste him. You want to know what he feels like.
“Your place or mine?” He asks, starring at you with a look on his face that says “I want to fuck you right now on this bar stool.”
“Mine.” You say.
Fifteen minutes later you’re back at your place. “Would you like a drink?” You ask.
“Of you.” He says seductively licking his lips.
You walk over to him and he grabs you by the waist and kisses you hard. His lips move with yours in perfect synchronicity. His tongue finds it’s way into your mouth and before you know it. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s walking you over to the couch. He lays you down and pulls of your lacy black thong, pushes up the hem of your dress (though there’s not much to push up there) and puts his face up to your tingling, wet pussy. His tongue presses into your clit, running it in circles around the tip and sucking on it every so often. Your thighs are around his head, your legs over his shoulders and you can’t help but grind yourself on him. It feels so fucking good. He goes faster and hits that spot that always sends you over the edge and you’re suddenly clenching your thighs as you come on his face. He continues to eat you out through your orgasm, only pulling back as your body stops jerking.
He smiles at you and licks his lips. His face is glistening with your wetness. “Mmm.”
You stand up and remove your dress completely as he unzips his pants and pulls them down, his thick cock springs to life. You get on your knees before him and grab it. He’s huge. About 10 inches with a thick girth. You put your mouth to the tip wondering how much you’re really going to get in your small mouth and open it as wide as you can. His cock slides in and you move your head back and forth. His hands find his way to the back of your head and help you as he moans slowly. You’re using your right hand to twist around the base of his cock -the part you can’t reach with your mouth – and you go harder and faster. He hits the back of your throat and you gag a little but you continue going until he grabs your hair and pulls it back. His dick pops out of your mouth and you gasp for air.
“Fucking ride it.” He says.
You stand up as he sits down on the couch and you straddle him. He watches you as you expertly lower your pussy right onto him. You have to hold his cock up and help slide it inside of you because it’s a little big. It hurts just a little bit but you know as soon as you start riding, it’ll just turn into pure pleasure and that thought alone is enough to send you over the edge.
He’s fully inside of you now and you start bouncing on him. You’re both moaning about how amazing it feels. He takes one of your c-cup tits and brings the nipple to his mouth. He sucks hard and a bolt of pleasure rushes through you. You start moving your hips back and forth, grinding down on his cock. Your clit getting worked harder and faster.
You can’t stop. You’re so fucking close.
“Come for me.” He says.
You let it go. You don’t hold back and you’re coming harder than you did when he ate you out. You slow down as you come down and suddenly he picks you up and flips you on your back. Your legs up on his shoulders.
He starts fucking you hard, he’s so deep inside of you. It feels so much better than you ever imagined. He goes harder, faster, and plays with your tits at the same time.
You’re right there again, holy fuck! You’re gonna come again and you can’t believe it. He goes a little faster, a little harder and keeps the same rhythm. He pinches each of your nipples, twisting them between his thumb and forefinger and suddenly you’re coming again, only this time you can feel his cock throbbing to.
“Oh fuck.” He yells out. You moan his name as you both come together. And when you come down, he pulls out. The both of you tired and out of breath.
“Would you like to stay the night here?” You ask, looking around for your panties and dress. You’re hoping he says yes so you can get some more of his dick later.
He nods his head, looking at you like your pussy blew his fucking mind.
“That was so good.” He says.
“It was.” You say, already aching for a second round as you have little flashbacks to the feeling of him inside of you.
“Round two?” He asks, as if reading your mind.
You nod your head yes and lead him up to your bedroom it’s not just round two but round three that happens up there before the sunrises. You find yourself thoroughly fucked. With at least three orgasms each time. Your mind and body are depleted of any energy and you both pass out together.