Another hot one cooked up by up and coming erotic author Kirsten Monroe!
Truly amazing!
Tapped out. That's what I was. It was a slow night at the bar. I'd been pulling the tap all night for the beer belly crowd, not even doing any mixing. I guess I was a little bored from the monotony, which made me antsy for some action, jittery for some kink, if you know what I mean. My mind had long since slipped into the gutter.
I went to re-stock the beer fridge and imagined myself splayed out in the walk-in cooler, my ass propped up on a case of Corona, my back resting on a 50-pound sack of roasted peanuts. After all, crazy things can happen after closing, when the bar goes dark, when one or two tipsy customers hesitate by the door, looking back at you with liquor-glazed eyes and lustful smiles as the sign is flipped. Open. Closed. By the time I snapped out of it, I'd concocted a full-on orgy in the cooler, party ice and peanuts and beer everywhere. "Liz honey, you're a naughtly little pervert," I reprimanded myself, shaking myself loose from la-la-land and forcing myself back to work.
I wiped the bar and tried to hold off the dirty thoughts while lazily watching NASCAR on the big screen across the room when Cinnamon sashayed over in her sexy way with an order. "Five pints of baby piss for the fur balls in the corner." She blew me a kiss.
"This place is dead tonight," I said, draining the piss keg for the millionth time. "It's Wednesday night! What gives? It's Hump Day, people! Hump Day!"
The beach town pub was popular with servicemen and locals. It wasn't a roughneck sort of place, but it wasn't for penny loafers either.
Cinnamon pulled a curl of her namesake colored hair onto her middle finger and twirled it tightly. She had blue velvet eyes and peach creamy skin. She dressed like a wild orchid and I swear, she never wore the same thing twice. Tonight it was a low-cut gold silk baby doll dress with princess sleeves. She wore a shimmering choker made of sea glass around her dainty neck, her hair done up and held in place with pearl-tipped pins and long-handled bar spoons. Somehow she could pull the "sea bitch" look off with grace. Cinnamon the sexpot pub siren. Say that ten times fast.
"Maybe it's the weather," she said. "All of our friends in uniform are in their bunkers, watching porn and eating chili in a can."
Cinnamon winked and plucked a cherry from my tray. She tossed it into the air, caught it by the stem in her lips, twirled it once and dangled it from her tongue. "You know Liz, three drops of your hot juice in that Buttcrack Light – a little bar wench voodoo – could transform that table of hosers over there into a horny platoon of marines in ten seconds flat. Drip of yours and a drop of mine – let's see who's got the muff mojo."
"Dirty girl," I said. "You would, too."
Muff mojo indeed. One day bartender Dave, the tender before my shift said, "You wouldn't believe how many girls are willing to blow me for a freebie."
"Oh yeah," I said. "Well, I mix 'em weak, charge 'em double, and they still tip me big for a two-minute walk on the dark side of the moon. See you tomorrow Davy Crotchless."
Liar. The truth was, I was jealous. Of course I'd never had a guy eating me out under the bar. I actually ducked my head and looked around down there after Davy Dick left. Where would you put an entire woman under here? Just her head maybe, or her boobs, but not the whole girl, not completely hidden from view.
Dave was probably pulling my chain. But it sure sounded like fun. Cinnamon agreed. Sure sounded like fun. Anyway, it didn't matter tonight. We were in the dead zone. I tucked the bar towel into the waist of my grey and red plaid miniskirt and sighed.
"Nice touch!" Cinnamon said, settling the foamy pints onto her tray. "Love the name patch."
"Thanks Cin," I said, running my fingers over the red and white patch. It was a new addition to my hump day uniform, my favorite schoolgirl mini with shiny black motorcycle boots, a black half-shirt and short black denim jacket. I'd recently added a grease monkey patch and had it embroidered with my bartender name: Billy Bob.
The neon bar signs flickered outside in on the windows and a light rain spattered against the glass. Bada Bing! Drink. On Tap. Bud Light. Open.
The Budweiser dorks checked out and we only had a half hour to closing when Cinnamon walked up behind me slipped a hand under my skirt.
"Holy shit Billy Bob!" she shrieked. "I was grabbing for a handful of ruffles. You're as naked and wet as the olive in a dirty martini."
"Whoa! Cin!" I jumped as she reached in again and grabbed my ass, squeezing hard. "Commando is part of the uniform. I'm ever hopeful, you know."
"Well, now I'm hopeful too. Nice hot box Billy," she giggled.
Cin pinched my cheek and straightened her silk, both of us blushing a little.
I re-stocked the bar, slipping back into my walk-in cooler orgy fantasy while Cin wiped tables. When she returned she slid her hand down my black bobbed hair and whispered into my ear. "You have a wild imagination Billy. I could see the skank in your smirk from across the room."
Cinnamon pressed close and slowly, and ran one hand down my leg, the silk of her dress teasing against my skin. She lowered herself down, twisting atop her strappy gold heels and winding around my leg as if it were a pole. I leaned against the bar and closed my eyes. Cinnamon placed her ass directly atop my right boot, straddling my ankle. I shuddered, instantly wet as she glazed my inner thighs with her tongue and pressed a handful of soft curls against the lower part of my ass. Sometimes reality is better than fantasy.
Cinnamon's reached up and under my shirt and got within a fingertip's reach of my aching nipples when the door jangled open.
"Shit, I forgot to turn the sign and lock the door. Be still," I hissed, pulling her hands down."
Holy fuck. Our ship had arrived. He was dressed in civilian clothes, but he had the look of a Navy man. There would be no tap tugging for this sailor. His face was wet with raindrops, his skin reddened from the unseasonably cool wind. What this boy needed was his ration of rum.
"Captain, Oh Captain," I whispered.
The young stud wore faded 501s and an old leather jacket. He tugged down the zipper as he walked in and looked around. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the hook next to the door. He straightened the hem of his tight black t-shirt, put his hands in his pockets, and walked slowly up to the bar.
"Glad somebody's still awake in this town."
"Hi there handsome," I smiled. "What's your pleasure this fine wet night?"
"You have Guinness on cask?"
"Sure do."
"Pint of Guinness and a shot of Bushmills."
I felt weak in the knees.
"On the double," I said, sparks flying off my bare ass. I turned to pull a glass from the shelf, forgetting about the Siamese twin attached to my thigh. I lurched forward, nearly falling on my face.
Sailor boy leaned slightly over the bar and glanced down, his face spreading into a wide grin.
A pair of long legs and angles strapped into gold heels were clearly visible stretched out below the bar.
"Well, looks like I'm not too late for happy hour."
Cinnamon untangled herself from my boot stood up, seriously blushing. She silently washed her hands and adjusted a hair pin.
"Oh, but you are too late sweetness," she said without skipping a beat. "Much too late. Happy hour ended at six. Fortunately for you, fucking ecstatic hour started five minutes ago….and drinks, darts and pool are on the house."
I shot her a look, but there was no stopping her now. She turned the door sign, flipped the lights and unplugged all of the neon lights except for "Bada Bing!" Red ropes of light buzzed across the room.
I handed our man in white his pint and shot. "What's your name sailor?"
He slammed the whiskey and sipped at his beer, licking foam from his upper lip. "My name's Damian," but what makes you think I'm a sailor."
"Well," I winked, "you look seaworthy."
"That I am. But I'm not Navy. I own a dive shop and volunteer with the Coast Guard rescue dive team."
Cinnamon didn't waste any time. "Billy Bob and I were just talking about shooting some pool. Care to join us?"
"You're on."
In the half-light we chalked our sticks, sexual tension building in the half-light.
Damian racked the balls and took the first shot, his hard, lean face and high cheekbones starkly outlined by light and shadow. The electrical storm between my legs was making me high. When it was my turn to shoot, Cinnamon made her move, licking the base of my bare ass cheeks when I bent over. "Thanks Cinnamon," I said coolly. "It always helps me concentrate when you do that."
I hit the shot dead-on, closed my eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. "Yes!"
Damian was obviously rattled, missing the next few shots.
"Concentrate baby," Cinnamon told him, pushing her stick between his legs and grinning devilishly.
Spinning around, Damian took Cinnamon by the shoulders and pulled her hair loose. It fell in thick waves down her shoulders. In one swift movement he picked her up and set her on the edge of the pool table. Gold silk pooled around her waist. He spread her legs and pressed himself between them, rubbing her breasts wit his hands through the thin fabric. He nibbled at her ear and pressed a handful of her hair into his face. Taking my hand, he pulled me into the triangle, tugging my jacket loose and lifting my t-shirt over my head. I stood there quivering, bare-assed and naked from the waist up in my skirt and boots. "Breathe Liz, breathe," I told myself.
"So Billy Bob, what do you do to help Cinnamon with her game?" Damian growled. He pushed down on my shoulders and spread Cin's legs wider.
"Sometimes I give her a quick kick in the ass and tell her to pull it together. Other times I do this."
I bent down, nuzzling Cin's damp thighs with my lips and pulling her sparkling black ruffled rumba tanka panties down to her ankles. I took her into my mouth and fingered her clit, pressing my tongue deep into her wet folds. Entering her that way was like stepping barefoot into a sun-warmed tidepool on a summer afternoon. Cin moaned, the space between her legs quivering and alive beneath my hungry mouth. Hot juice dripped down my thighs as Damian placed his hands on my hips. I turned and unbuckled his belt, sucking in air as I felt Cinnamon's hands on my bare breasts, twisting my nipples hard and biting gently at my back.
"Fucking amazing," Damian sighed as his jeans dropped to the floor and I tugged his boxers down, his cock hot and dripping when I released it, cradling it against my stomach for a moment before turning back to Cin's needy cunt.
"Cinnamon, you hot, hot girl," I said, pulling her lips wide and pressing four fingers deep inside. She arched her back and pressed her heels into the edge of the table, arms outstretched, gripping the side pockets.
Damian pressed his mast between my legs and I braced for it when I felt him pull back.
"Hold it there Billy Bob," I'm not letting you have all the fun."
He turned and picked me up, holding me sideways in his strong arms, his cock hot and hard pressing into the small of my back. He leaned in and he sucked gently on my tits, licking in slow circular motions, his stubble a good hurt against my soft skin. He set me down next to Cinnamon and pulled her back to sitting, tugging her dress down to release her large firm breasts, glowing white and soft.
Our moans, the buzz of neon, and the occasional sound of wet tires on pavement echoed through the pub, lit only by red flashes and streetlamps.
Damian pulled himself into one hand, stroking his hard purple-pink cock while going down on both of us, back and forth, careful to give us equal time. Cin and I leaned back on our hands, our legs spread wide, both moaning loudly, not holding back. I took Cinnamon's soft mouth in mine, sinking into her soft, full lips. She tasted like spearmint gum and cranberry juice and smelled like warm sand. We made out wildly as Damian got us off with animal-like stamina, a tangle of tongues and hands, lips, and breasts as wave after wave of intense orgasmic pleasure crashed over us.
Damian's tongue flicked hard again and again across my clit. I yelled out, my voice raw and low in my throat. "Fuck me, oh God Damian, fuck me." A bolt of lightning streaked across my mound as Damian hit my g-spot with cruel deliberation, Cinnamon's tongue tying my pleasure center in knots from the top down. "Fuck yes! Oh yes!"
Sprawled out on the table, I moaned uncontrollably and vibrated with the pleasure of a double orgasm. Still shaking, I forced myself to recover quickly, straddling Cinnamon to tease her breasts in my mouth as Damian went down on her, giving her the same attention he gave me, sucking her clit, reaching for her g-spot, tossing her high into the air, breathing fire between her legs and dousing her with pleasure.
Cinnamon came hard, back arched, hips rocking, shuddering against my lips, her hands kneading my breasts.
"You are fucking amazing," Damian, "I said, lowering myself to his cock. I pressed his hard length deep into my throat, relaxed, opening myself fully to him, enjoying the salt-and-pepper taste of his pre-cum on my tongue.
I stood and motioned for him to lie atop the green felt. He slipped his ankles from his jeans and boxers and pulled his chest free of cotton.
"We'll start on top," Cinnamon cooed sensuously. "And work our way down."
We each took an ear, stroking and rubbing his entire body with our hands, slowly, ever so slowly slipping and sliding down Damian's hard body, every muscle contracted and twitching with desire. His cock jumped in our soft hands, his balls relaxing and constricting as we kissed and teased, stroked and rubbed, working as a team, slowing down when we sensed him reaching the edge, speeding up to increase the intensity.
Cinnamon took his long shaft in her hand, her fist lubed with her own juice. I took his head in my mouth, circling the throbbing velvet tip with my tongue, hungrily swallowing every drop as a steady stream of his hot sticky cum wet my lips.
"You're all ours baby," I whispered, wrapping my tongue around his head again and again, Cinnamon's fist stroking hard and fast, squeezing him ever harder.
"Tell us what you want. Tell us exactly what you want."
"It all feels so good," Damian moaned. "Lick my balls baby, I like that. Fuck me in the ass."
"You fucking got it stud," Cinnamon said, sliding from the table. She wet her thumb in her mouth and slid it slowly into his asshole while licking his balls.
His rod was stiff as driftwood, calling out for attention. I did what came naturally and straddled him in a reverse cowgirl, lowering myself onto him, fucking in rhythm with Cinnamon.
As if we'd unleashed the perfect storm, Damian jolted on the table, his hands on my breasts and neck, pulling at my hair wildly, his entire body straining against both of us. He moaned, twisted and shuddered. I could feel him reaching climax, his moans louder and louder, his voice deep and grinding. I pulled off of him quickly and gripped his slick length in my hands, stroking quickly, my grip firm and tight. His chest felt hard and good under my ass as he lifted his hips and exploded onto my tits and Cinnamon's upturned face, his cum glowing like fireworks in the neon red light streaking across the green. Time slowed down as I held him, felt him pulsing in my hand as he let loose, showering sparks of effervescence onto our glistening skin.
Bada bing! Bada bing!
We toasted with a nightcap at the bar, our bodies still warm and wet and sticky, the taste of satisfaction fresh on our lips.
Damian pulled on his jacket and hesitated at the door as Cin and I blew him dirty little kisses. "Goodnight girls," he said. "I'll see you again soon….at closing time."
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