I’m a little too drunk for this time of day, but you’ve been serving me full glasses of wine to loosen me up. And it has worked splendidly. We have the place to ourselves and you’re taking full advantage of the lull before the arrival of the ‘lunch’ crowd… and me.
I’ve been flirting with you since my arrival a week ago. Bored at first, I found this handsome hotel bartender with mischief in his smile and a generous way of topping off my drink when it dwindled. My interest was more than a thirst for alcohol… perhaps a weakness for your dark and dreamy looks contributed to the slow burn of real attraction and lust. Especially after we discovered our shared obsession with risky public sex.
Our first full-blown sexual foray, found us sneaking up to the roof of this old hotel to indulge ourselves against the twinkling skyline… and in full view of the surrounding high rises with plenty of after-hours workers to catch us in the act. When we did attract their attention, the sex got exponentially better. Our destiny for further adventures was sealed.
The very next afternoon, before your shift, we met in my room. In no time at all, I was completely stripped of my scant lingerie and you were so deep inside me I was howling like a feral beast as you displayed me to the attentive office workers on the lower floors. Of course, the strangers’ observation is the aphrodisiac and meeting our voyeur’s eyes from our picture window had us both cumming in tandem.
Looking forward to our next opportunity, I met you in the bar near closing time. The place was nearly empty and you encouraged a couple more glasses of wine, while you took inventory after last call. Following you into the stockroom, I took the initiative to service you from my knees… as an appetizer. You returned the favor by bending me over an empty keg to take me from behind, in a marathon session that reduced us to sweating heaving animals collapsed on the floor. You murmured your nightly task would never be the same, now that we had marked it with such a debauchery.
When we eventually recovered, you decided to spend the night in my room for more of the same. By this time, our chemistry did not depend on exhibitionism, although we utilized the large mirrors to watch ourselves experiment with all sorts of positions and techniques. The kinks were piling up, so we had plenty of ways to elevate each of the countless orgasms we shared. Sadly, my stay was coming to a close, so we decided a spectator-fueled, risky farewell was called for before my departure. I arrive early with some trepidation, not wanting you to lose your job. You check my wrap-around skirt and kiss me deeply when you reach through the folds to find me without panties… as we planned. Yes I am dripping wet, and you can’t help but savor the glistening from your fingers. You put me on look-out from a barstool, and bury your face between my thighs to feast upon the swelling juicy lips there. I am vigilant, even as I moan with ecstasy as your tongue worms and squirms inside me, wanting it to last forever. The anxious thrill of being discovered has me hyper-aroused and results in a climax like none before. You watch me quiver uncontrollably, letting me taste myself on your lips in an extended French kiss. The aftershocks come fast and furious with this jet fuel and your sexy triumphant smile beams. “What’s hotter? Being observed from afar… or not being discovered while having surreptitious sex under the noses of the oblivious?” I hear a crowd of older men approaching the bar’s doorway and alert you. “Ahh, here come the Elk’s Club… gentlemen, let me show you to your favorite tables.”
They are chattering and laughing at their own stories as they move slowly to their booths, a fair distance across the room from the bar. Though still tingling, I realize your hotter plan is for the latter scenario. A full body shiver drenches the juncture where you were moments ago… and I’m flushed with a new fever for your return. You usher me to a convenient barstool at the waitress station around the corner of the bar. I’m still visible to the Elks from the waist up, so you untie and unwrap my skirt to leave me bottomless. Once you return to your station behind the bar to mix their drinks, I am left to fathom the method to your madness, and the methods you will employ to imbibe in this twist to our shared proclivity. You wink as you pour a fresh glass of wine to drop off on your way to deliver their order. Upon your swift return, you suggest we start slow, already fingering me surreptitiously with your usual finesse.
“You’ll need to time your moaning music with their raucous laughter. Luckily they’re all a bit hard of hearing, so let me know when it feels good…”
I nod breathlessly, wondering if my hair trigger reflexes can be edged. The intriguing circumstances are already having their way with my libido. I swivel on my stool to spread my legs, to invite the return of your fingers and you swiftly oblige, slipping two of them deep to watch my reaction as your thumb kneads the entry. I grip the edge of the bar, whimpering with delight as you describe the familiar codgers as ‘randy old cocksmen’ that would love a piece of what you’re possessing.
“That’s Manny, divorced 4 times, because he followed his huge johnson to his next wife… and an assortment of show girls. He was in high demand because of his ‘huge contributions’ to nearly every woman he met. I’ve heard the tales of his glory days, and I’m not sure your tight little crevice could accommodate his python.”
You punctuate the story with corkscrew plunges to send me into paroxysms of gasps.
“The man with the cane, Jack, was grand poohbah of their Lodge, and arranged for all the strippers for their monthly meetings. The roster always included a sampling for the leg men, breast lovers and ass worshippers. From what I’ve heard, the members became rather fluid with such a smorgasbord to choose from. They would love to see you dancing naked on this bar… if the mood strikes.”
My imagination brings a jolt of recognition for that scenario and my role in that free-for-all. I moan audibly as you slip your drenched fingers into your mouth for savoring, more from my neediness for their return to my throbbing core. Ever vigilant, you step away to take their orders for another round and deliver the cheese and deli meat platters they pre-ordered. I am left in a state of suspended desire until your return. “They asked about you… the ‘hot little number’ at the bar. Once a hound, always a hound… now where were we?”
“Hot and bothered and needing a release…”
“Me too, meet me in the stockroom for a quickie?”
You hand me my skirt, and point to the women’s restroom as if clarifying the location. Grazing my ass as it disappears under the hastily tied fabric, I make a beeline for our clandestine sex spot. You arrive moments later, pushing me against the wall to grind into my wanting hips. I free your full-masted stiffness to guide you inside me, as my loosened skirt drops to the floor. Rabid with wanting, I meet your thrusts with appreciative groans, mumbling about how amazing you feel and wishing Jack and Manny were watching us.
“If they’re observant, they might catch the surveillance feed I routed to the TV above the bar…”
My brain and body explode at the revelation, and your orgasm is not far behind.
“Oh my gawd…”
I am shocked, awed and can’t stop cumming.
“That’s it, baby, I knew that would do you in. We don’t have much time. It’s a small black & white screen, no sound… no way they noticed, sweetheart. Gawd you are so hot, we’ll watch the recording later, if you want…”
I admit I’m a bit disappointed by the truth, as we reassemble ourselves for a return to your station and the handful of other men in the room. I am flushed to blushing as I retake my seat and open my skirt for you again. You offer a perfectly spherical ice cube to soothe and torment my ruby pillows with the contrast. Gasping, I notice one of the elders staring my way and ask who he is. “They call him The Sniffer. He has an uncanny ability to find the ripest woman in a crowd, just by sense of smell. Legendary, never wrong and scored plenty of women in his day, that didn’t know they were such low hanging fruit. The story goes, he satisfied hundreds of unsatisfied ‘girlies’.”
I meet his eyes and his smile melts me, like the disappearing ice cube between my thighs.
“Do you think he caught your scent?”
“Thanks to you, I’m not unsatisfied…”
“Let’s keep you that way, so I don’t have to arm wrestle The Sniffer.”
Dipping below the bar, you crawl closer to the thirst quencher you seek, to offer long soothing strokes with your tongue and nose nuzzling in solidarity with the older man I have locked eyes with. He never stops smiling as your tongue enters me briefly to absorb the chilled wetness. I can’t help that my eyelids flutter as you reduce me to soft growls, under the watchful gaze of The Sniffer. My petite orgasm is barely discernible to anyone not watching, but he certainly is. You resurface to witness my capitulation to your swift finesse and stroll over to the booths to take another drink order. In my dreamy content state, I see him congratulate you with a low five under the table while whispering something in your ear. No one else is the wiser, so our secret seems safe with our audience of one. I’m intrigued, imagining his more vigorously virile glory days.
“I have another idea you might enjoy… actually Sniffer suggested it. He really loves to watch.”
“I have a bit of a crush developing on our new friend…”
“He bet me, I could pleasure you behind the bar… like a training session for my fill-in.… he is certain his old pals will be clueless. Admittedly, they are drunker than usual.”
“How much is the bet?”
“A couple hundred bucks… if we succeed. If I lose… instant voyeurs and he gets to sniff your panties.”
“But I’m not wearing…”
“We’ll figure something out… you in?”
“Of course! I love a high-risk challenge… and sex, but you already know that.”
“We’ll keep your skirt nearby, but wouldn’t it be more thrilling without it?” I’m already behind the bar and allowing you to remove it as you take your position behind me. Only your fly is down for a quick zip up, just in case. Widening my stance, you slip yourself between my thighs to stroke me with a steady slow rhythm while you are still perfectly perpendicular for the maneuver. The lesson will be the best way to prepare a shaken martini, while you stir me to distraction. Shadowing me, you instruct me on the proper sequence of ingredients. I can feel you getting harder and glimpse the tip of you repeatedly emerging through my legs, making it difficult to concentrate.
“Ice comes first, liberally fill the shaker (like I’ll be filling you soon), you want as much surface area to grace the liquor (which is the exact compliment he offered… ‘I want to lick her’)”
I groan as you grow in girth. This is exhilarating and our observer is mesmerized as you keep the pace of back and forth.
“Now, the vodka, heavy pour, this one's for our idea man. Three shots oughta do it. (I am gonna cum at least that many times). Now the vermouth, you’re going to have to bend down to reach it below the bar (ass up, baby so I can slide all the way into my favorite slippery niche)”
I nod, and offer myself up for your impalement, nearly losing my composure from the exquisite entry. I stay down to receive a few profound thrusts, while you point to the location of the misplaced bottle. “He’s touching himself now. The others are ignoring his interest in our performance.”
You spank me playfully to goose my response, then probe deeper to position yourself for our vertical display. Grabbing my bare hips you pull me up to standing so I can add a splash of vermouth into the silver shaker. You have retrieved a chilled glass and reach around me to place it on the bar ready to receive our concoction. You let your fingertips graze my hard nipples as you grasp the shaker to demonstrate the proper action. Slow at first, your thrusts are shallow and delightful, I bend forward slightly to anchor and absorb the penetrations. “Just like that, now you give it a go… (you fawking hot vixen)… Close, but more like this, let me help you with the rhythm and flair. (Having fun yet, sweetie?)”
Grasping your hands around mine you guide the shaker in an exaggerated exhibition as a cover for the underlying escalation into my depths. I nod as I am bobbed, bounced and giggling from the circumstances. I lock eyes with our witness to eye-fuck him the best I can, as I surrender to your ardent probes. You assist my trembling hands to strain and pour it into the glass, straight up. We’re both breathless and on the verge. “Decant and we’re ready for the final garnish. (I’m gonna cum so hard, girlie… join me?) Can you reach the little olive sword? (Aww, jeez… that’s the perfect angle) Spear a nice juicy one and let it slip into the depths of our perfection. (Not about the martini anymore, talking to you, you irresistible goddess) One will do unless the customer requests more. (Later, to be continued…)”
With one last glance toward the oblivious crew and their vigilant watch dog, we both let loose in the triumphant whirlwind of winning the bet and gratifying ourselves in the best experience we could have imagined. Overwhelmed by the bliss, I slump to all fours, with you still deeply embedded. It’s your zest for the rest of the best sex we are ever likely to have again… and, being held captive by my cascade of spasms like a persistently horny bronco rider.
“Is this for me? Looks like it’s tasty and intoxicating. I’m here to pay up.”
The Sniffer is sipping his martini and watching us from a front-row barstool, and I am reacting with a second full blown climax because you too have become suddenly stiff enough to stretch me with a spontaneous growth spurt. “What a sexy little scented kitten, and so sopping wet. If I were a younger man, I’d suck you up with a big straw, doll face. Yummy-yum-yum.”
He throws 5 hundred dollar bills on the bar with no regrets, then offers another 5 “for your girly panties.” He’s being adorably cheeky, yet I know the only physical trace is my previous barstool. “I’m an exhibitionist of convenience, not sorry to say, there were no panties today… but the free barstool over there saw some action that might tantalize a connoisseur, such as yourself.”
He promptly carries his martini to my previous perch and bows to inhale the traces of our former sexploits. Those initial warm-up exercises seem innocent by comparison to what just transpired. You help me to my feet, while the Sniffer indulges himself, happily humming in gratitude.
We join him to thank him for his part in our afternoon delight and his gracious loss of the bet. He toasts us and downs the last of his drink. “I think it was win-win… gorgeous girly, free floor show, complimentary drink… with a chaser I’ve been craving.” He bends down to lick the seat, while we watch transfixed by his devotion.
He winks and whispers to me “I never forget a flavor, you delectable minx.” before returning to his boys in the booths. I am quivering from the visceral visual as you polish my plump bare rump in solidarity. The drunk Elks are paying their tab and departing as I wave goodbye from behind the bar, still thrilled to be undressed from the waist down in such close proximity to the clueless crew. The Sniffer lingers to press a roll of bills into my hand as he offers a parting kiss to my fingertips, licks his lips and smiles, keeping our secret for himself. You lock the door behind them to finish the cleanup, while I help in my heels and stockings to boost the bulge behind your fly and as an incentive to reward ourselves with a rare private intimacy.
“One more for the road? The stockroom deserves a farewell frolic, don’t you think?” Your eyes widen with my insatiable requests.
“Who’s serving who?” “Maybe tape a third recording, while we watch the second…”
“How did you know?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, who would believe you, without proof. I barely had time to set up my own camera angle.”
You spank me hard, part affection, part provocation, and I squeal with delight. “You’re going to out me on OnlyFans, aren’t you?”
“Only with your consent, stud.” Another well-deserved swat, this time bent over your lap, and followed by a series of wallops that leave me moaning for more.
“Sounds like we share another kink, you naughty girl.”
“How are you going to spend all our ill-gotten gain from Sniffer?”
“Visit you, so you can show me the places you’ve always wanted to take a few risks to cum… can you count how many orgasms you want in Poughkeepsie?” “Mmmm, one… at least two… possibly three… most definitely four…”
My sultry moaning punctuates each spank I receive, until I reach 30, and you carry me to the bar. “Christening my work station seems an even better choice than the stockroom…”
Hoisting me upwards, I wince from the exquisite sting of the foreplay as you lay me on my back, so I elevate my hips for relief. You eagerly hop aboard to alleviate it with a double dose of pleasurable contrast. Face to face is a new level of exhilaration and our responses arrive sooner than expected. Our eyes meet in the mirror behind the bar to witness our last culmination… while the surveillance camera seems to blink with each profound thrust.
