On The House

Chapter 1 -- A Tuesday Escape

The night offers a constant stream of vehicles along the still-busy street, a low hum of horns and engines booming across the busier roads not far from where I stand. Heels rapidly walk past me as I stare at the wooden door of the dive bar, its patterned window hinting at warm lights inside.  

I bite my lips, uncertain. I know I should prioritize resting over drinking a weekday's night away in this seemingly aged bar that I only noticed now despite driving by here to and from my apartment--ah, yes... my capacious studio apartment that I previously shared with a guy whose name shall not grace even the tiniest vein in my mind.

Suddenly, I don't mind drinking until my liver burns on this random Tuesday.

A bell chimes against the door I decisively pushed past through, and immediately, a comfort embraces my body. I see lacquered ceilings lit perfectly by orange lanterns. Few patrons litter the round tables, while a small group of people surround and play pool at the back of the room. Laughter fills the room, and I beam, feeling lighter than ever these past few days.  

I turn towards the almost empty stools, if not for the bald guy drinking alone at the counter's far end. I sit several chairs away from him.

Upon sitting, wide shoulders and an impeccable waist greet my eyes. His arms with a rolled-up plaid shirt expertly move across the shelf of liquor bottles. His movements flex his back against the fabric of his shirt, and I silently watch. This is definitely a bonus--I am alive and blessed.  

I do need a drink, though -- more than I need a man.

Or do I?

I cough, secretly embarrassed by the thought. The bartender turns, and now I'm immediately more embarrassed. I notice his chestnut hair that perfectly curls on his forehead, and a thin stubble complementing his... fine features. The skin around his light eyes wrinkles as he smiles at me, hands busy cleaning a cocktail shaker. I inhale one deep breath through my parted mouth, trying to find words as I doubtlessly stare.

"Hello, Madam." Oh no. His voice is hot, too? I shift on my seat, and he continues to break the ice. "Can I get anything for you?"

Thank god he asked; I could just stare at him all day if he didn't. "Just a glass of whiskey, please," I managed to answer.

"And that's on the rocks?" he clarifies, to which I nodded and mumbled 'please.' A corner of his lips quirks up, tugging a string inside my brain. He turns to leave, but only after his eyes quietly trace my face. I gulp and try to appear unfazed.

I am so looking forward to that glass of whiskey.

Chapter 2 -- Unwanted Attention

However, before the bartender can even return, footsteps ring nearer to where I sit until I feel an uncomfortable presence beside me. My alarm goes off.

"Hello there, sweetcheeks," the bald guy who previously sat several chairs away from me greets, his nasal voice penetrating the air that I doubt anyone wants to share with him. I stiffen, looking at the bartender's back as if to send signals.

"Aww, don't be scared now. I'm just a chill guy," he says. I bite my cheeks as disgust enough to rouse my hair climbs up my spine. Fuck, I look harder at the bartender, although that certainly won't do anything.

He opens his mouth again, to which I will say amen to if he stopped, to spout trash. "You're too pretty to be deaf." I roll my eyes. "I see. Choosing not to answer me at all?"

"Fuck off," I hiss. My eyes burn through his in a controlled rage. I fight the urge to gouge out his eyes which look nauseatingly depraved. I almost vomited the words out, "There's your answer."

He raises both his hands, surprised and hopefully insulted by what I said. "Woah! A little feisty, huh? I like that," he whispers, humid air washing my eardrums as he draws nearer. He turns his head to the bartender. "Hey, bartender! Put the girl's drink on my tab!"

The bartender's back tenses, but he doesn't move. Worry grows in my chest as I continue to make pleas through my eyes. The bastard continues to mumble beside me, "Geez, everyone's deaf today. What a drag," he airs out a musky sigh before landing his appalling gaze back at me. "So, wanna hang out with me tonight, sweetcheeks?"

His hand flies over to my knee. My stomach churns. "You--!"

"I don't know if you're unable to sense body language or just plain stupid," the bartender starts, a glass in his hand. His eyes show restrained intensity; a quiet threat, tickling my abdomen in a strange way I shouldn't feel in this situation. "It's quite obvious that this nice lady doesn't want to concern herself with you."

He looks at me, rage softening into a concerned expression. "Here's your order, miss. On the house," he offers, voice still tight. The glass of whiskey thumps against the counter, and I mouth him thanks.

"Wow," the creep retorts with a snort I can only compare to that of a pig's. Where in the deepest trenches of hell does he draw these sounds? "I never knew bartenders could also read female minds. Mind your own business, prick."

Anger returns to the bartender's face as he draws his eyes back to the bastard and leans forward. "If you don't move away from the lady, I will be forced to call security on you and escort you out of the premises, banning you from entering this establishment--" he threatens, "--permanently."

The bar grows silent. I feel the heat of the patrons' gaze on us. The air around us must've been intense enough to capture their attention, which made the guy shift uneasily on the stool.  

"Geez," the guy mumbles. "What an actual killjoy, man. This... snob woman is not worthy of my time anyway."

He rises from his seat and goes on to give me one last sneer, to which I replied with an equally scathing look. Who does he think he's sneering at?

"Whatever," he mutters before walking away. My stomach unknots and I manage to release the breath I held the whole time. The bell from the door chimes, guaranteeing his exit.

Chapter 3 -- Whiskey & Wounds

"Finally," I whisper to myself. The bartender sighs, and I turn to see him fixated on the door--probably making sure that the guy doesn't return.

"We never get enough of them," he mutters before turning to look at me, worry still visible on his features. "Are you okay, Miss?"

"I... I think so." I squeeze my arms in a protective manner. "Definitely better than earlier."

"I'm sorry you had to experience that. We just seem to never run out of creeps like them. Unfortunate how they don't know how to approach women properly."

I chuckle distressfully. "No women in their life willingly took the risk to teach them, I'd bet."

He seems to have sensed my discomfort and further creases his forehead. Something flutters inside me, again. His effect on women is probably insane, although I know I shouldn't generalize. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again. "You do seem out of it. You never really budge even when that asshole passed by."

"As long as he's gone and stays out of my way, I'll be fine." I smile at him reassuringly. "I think I already bothered you too much, actually."

"Oh no, it's okay!" he smiles back. "I should be minding my own business, really."

I quickly shake my head. "I don't mind it!" I may have stated that too cheerfully. He beams at me even more, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuck. "I-I mean, your company is... well-appreciated."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I nod. My eyes roam around the patrons, I didn't notice there are fewer than earlier. "But you are this bar's only bartender, so..."

He presses his lips shut and stares. I accept the unspoken dare, unflinching. I have no clue where I got this courage from--maybe I do need a man tonight. My brain throbs at the thought, slightly disappointed in my resolve, or lack thereof.

Finally, he speaks. "You do need the company, you say? Well, since it is quite a slow day, I'd be happy to accompany you."

"Hmm." I survey the bar again, confirming that it is a slow day. "Alright. I'm down with that." My finger circles the rim of my glass. I decide to pick it up and finally take a sip, my eyes never leaving the man's. Bitter liquid stalks down my tongue and throat, and I almost wince from the much-welcomed discomfort. He looks down, watching the movement of my throat. I gulp one last time before putting the glass down.

Chapter 4 -- Bar-top Confessions

"I would assume you're not here to celebrate? You're here in need of..." He glances at my lips only for a second and I doubt my own eyes. "... comfort."

"Do you read minds?" I ask with a raised brow.

He chuckles. "No, I don't read female minds. I'm just observant, that's all. I've seen many kinds of people come and go here, you know?"

A curious wonder grows inside me. "Like what? Did you have any interesting interactions you can share with me?"

"Any interesting interactions, you ask? Hmmmm..." he takes a deep breath, eyes far and well in thought. "Well... I did have some memorable ones. There was a man who came here all roughened up." Amusement dances in his eyes, and I nod. "Weird thing is that he was wearing this expensive-looking suit... like he's from a wedding. Apparently, he's not only from a wedding... he's the groom. When he and his supposed wife were doing their vows, the bride confessed that she's actually in love with his sister and she's... well... into women. "

"No..." I gasp. "That's tragic! But like, good for her, though...?"

"Yep," he laughs with a nod. "I also had a visitor who was having issues with his relationship with his wife because apparently... he was falling for his mother-in-law."

"What the hell?" My face contorts into a mixture of confusion and disgust. "What in the problematic melodrama is this..."

"I know!" He laughs more heartily, his eyelids squinting and forming happy wrinkles. "I had my fair share of very fucked up stories here which makes the whole job rewarding... I get to know people more and how the world works. Different spectrums of life, you know? It's fascinating."

I take one whole swig from my glass. "Seems like you enjoy this a lot."

He takes my glass and fills it with another shot with ice and replies. "Well... It's not like I indulge in other people's misery. I mainly enjoy the diversity of the world. All those stories within a small bar like this... You know what I mean?"

I agree with a nod, pretending I'm not distracted by the passionate look on his face. "It's a good way to see the world in another person's eyes."

"Yup, exactly. Lots of perceptions to look at." He chuckles before slowly turning serious as curiosity graces his features. The warm glow of the lanterns hanging over us made his eyes softer, further inviting vulnerability. "How about you? What's your story?"

The bar seems to grow quieter as my mind reels in my bittersweet memories. A sigh escapes my lips. I think I'm gonna be one of his interesting stories to tell someday. "Well... my groom--ex-groom decided to break up with me a day before our marriage."

"Damn," he hisses, making me laugh. How is he able to make anything lighter? "Let me guess, cheating?"

I laugh even more. "So many of you have guessed that but... no," I answer with a gentle shake of my head. "He just didn't want it anymore." 

He hums, eyes deep in thought. "So he just fell out of love, huh?" I drink, and he asks again, "Ever mentioned why?"

"Apparently, I was 'clipping his wings' and he felt like I was 'putting him up' in the life he never wanted," I groaned in disappointment. "Why did he even propose?"

"No offense, but at least they told you before you even tie the knot, you know? It could be harder and probably worse if you're freshly wed and then they tell you that."

"But he never told me anything before!" I gulp everything from the glass and slam it down the counter. "We could've come up with something if he did!"

"That's shitty," he says rather empathetically. "No excuse to just do that to you without even trying to talk things out." I feel the booze slowly hitting my head, so I just let myself get lost in his husky voice. I giggle. "How are you faring?" he asks.

"Me? Oh, who else, right?" We laugh, and though that's a stupid statement, I feel better and happier. "I've been numb these past few weeks, but now I'm... definitely feeling something."

"Do you, now?" He chuckles in that honey-like voice of his that is starting to feel like a caress. "But numb, huh? I can see that. Hard to process it especially if it's new."

"Yeah... wait, you seem to know not just a lot, but a lot lot." It's my turn to be curious. "I want to know more about you."

He grows amused, but he seems open to changing the subject. "Quite unfair if I start asking questions about yours without even telling mine, huh?"

He begins with a calm smile and a somewhat far-away look. I wonder if he's seeing something behind those turquoise eyes? "I used to love music growing up. I would sing at pubs, events, and even had some crazy gigs. That love vanished when my dad died when I was 21. I was singing in this pub, too, you know? It got pretty popular because of that." He rubs the back of his nape as my face softens into sympathy. He continues, his smile never leaving, "Also got divorced when I was 24... which was almost 10 years ago. Found out that my wife was cheating on me with her boss. She was already pregnant when I found out."

"Damn." It's my turn to hiss now. Now I'm ashamed of my sob story. He laughs at my look, easing my sympathy into a calmer feeling. "I can only imagine how you fared during that time."

"Yeah," he nods before giving me another glass of whiskey. "The denial stage was the most fucked up time for me since I was beating myself up too much and didn't process what truly happened. But it gets better. Especially if you come to realize that this thing that happened is actually good for you moving forward. You know, not spending too much effort and love towards someone is pointless."

This guy's age shows so much in his words, and his wisdom is strangely... sexy. My chin rests in the palm of my hand as I look up at him, marvelling at his masculine beauty. "Maybe this is your blessing--our blessing--in disguise," I wholeheartedly say, because my eyes are extremely blessed right now.

"In another perspective, yeah." He lets out a hand, offering a handshake to a newfound kin. "Congratulations! You escaped a possibly explosive and emotionally-wrecking relationship."

I reached out, accepting his offer. Sparks travel across my arm as my hand holds out to his, the texture of his hand rough against mine. How would this feel around my neck? I giggle, disguising my thoughts into giddy gratefulness. "Thanks! Congrats to you, too." He squeezes my hand before reluctantly letting go. I bite my lip, smiling. "You know, I'm loving this conversation."

"Really? I thought all my yapping was too much. Glad to know it cheered you up a bit somehow." He leans forward, and I stop myself from just crashing into him in a passionate kiss. "Now... tell me about yourself."

"I already did, didn't I?" I complain, shocking myself with the unusual sultriness of my voice. He shrugs, sheepish yet expecting. "Okay, okay... so... I got engaged at 22, just after I, or we, graduated. Two years after, we broke up--which you already know by now--and I've never felt so... lost." I sigh, fully taking in another glass, which he immediately refilled.  

He hums in gentle support. "You still have a long way to go. Being in your early twenties and being such a beautiful lady gives you lots of opportunities to meet new people. Take this as a learning curve for your future relationships." He really sounds like a 34-year-old guy. But hotter.  

I'm supposed to grieve, aren't I?

"He was just... a part of every plan and goal I have. I... I don't know anymore."

I look down and see a droplet fall on the counter. Shocked, I raise a hand to my cheeks and feel tears that have unconsciously streamed down my face. I immediately wiped them off, but to no avail. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Not in front of a prospect!

"Hey, it gets easier. But let yourself grieve. Especially if it helps you lessen the load. Here." He grabs a tissue from below the counter, carefully pulling a few pieces before giving them to me. "You look quite adorable even if you're crying like that."

"W-what...?" I ask, taken aback by the sudden honesty.  

"Just being an honest man here," he replies, hands raised. He grins and I chuckle, putting my glass against my lips to drink some more. Suddenly, his eyes scan the room, which I mimic. Turning around made me realize that I am the only customer left. I don't mind being alone with this guy, really.

"Looks like I'm going to have to close soon," he mutters.

"I should probably go soon, too." I pretend to check my things and keys inside my bag. I don't want to go home, not alone, but how am I gonna ask him to just take me anywhere with him? Lunatic. That's lunatic. "Thank you so much for the free drinks and... really good company. I appreciate everything."

He smiles softly, making me want to beg for more time. "No problem! Do you have a car? Or will someone pick you up? I'm not letting you drive in that condition."

"Well... I do have a car..." Anything. Anything for more time.

"Just a car?" I nod, rather enthusiastically. He chuckles, seeming to understand my eagerness. "Okay... let me just refill that drink of yours, still in the house of course... while you wait for me to clean up. I'll drive you home."

Hell yeah. "But haven't I bothered you enough...?"

Please say no. "No..." Yes!  "... I insist, please. Won't let a sweet lady like you crash her car after a heart-crushing event, won't I?" He puts another glass on the counter. "Here."

Success! "Thank you. I really appreciate everything."

"I'll be back in a few." He turns and starts busying himself with cleaning the tables and arranging the chairs. I remain sitting, tapping my fingers and bobbing my head to the soft music playing in the background. The glass keeps me company, and I take sips every now and again. What should we do later? More conversations? Should we take this somewhere else? Will we write each other's biographies at this point? Should I take this chance to explore something... more?

I sigh.

"Oh, hey!" The bartender snaps me back to reality. "I'm sorry for making you wait, but I'll finish in less than 10."

"Oh! Please, take your time," I responded, and I, myself, am surprised by my patience. "By the way, can I ask where your restroom is?"

"The restroom's right around the corner." He points at the doorway beside the pool table. I spot a door, which I assume leads to the cubicles.

Chapter 5 -- Floodgates

I mumble thanks, and he goes back to cleaning, now with a mop in his hand. Upon entering the restroom, I immediately turn the faucet on to wash some sense into my head. The mirror shows my bare face, weirdly glowing from the interaction earlier. And then, the image of the bartender enters my mind: his stubble rubbing against my chin as he devours my lips, tongues clashing and fighting for dominance. The bulk of his large body dancing with mine--an erotic rhythm for a tango for two. I see him... feel him... buried inside something warm and--

I scream.

Water runs all over my head and chest as the broken faucet explodes water all over the goddamn restroom. Way to fucking ruin my moment, faucet. My hands scurry against the unbarred pipe where the faucet originally was.

"Fuck--help!"

The door crashes open. I turn to see the bartender's look of panic as he quickly surveys the situation. "Are you okay!?" He runs to the sink, replacing my hands with his. "Shit, the faucet gave out. I knew I had to fully replace this when those girls got too rowdy in here."

I stood there, watching his forearms upon which his wet sleeves cling to twist and turn as he fixes the damage. It took him a few minutes--a few excruciating minutes for someone as thirsty as me.

"There. Shit. I'm really sorry about that."

"It's... It's fine--I'm fine."

"And now you're.. you're all w..." His eyes trail down my chest. I look down and see pastel fabric peeking out of my soaked shirt. "... wet... let me grab you a towel to--" he clears his throat "--cover you up."

He returns with a towel in a heartbeat.

"Here.... I'm really sorry for what ha--"

Chapter 6 -- Pool-Table Heat

I crashed my lips into his. My movements are erratic and hurried, as if I might lose this chance if I didn't. His moans of surprise vibrate against my lips. Something within me aches and itches, and I know the remedy. I press his head deeper against me with a hand on his hair.  

I need this. I need him.

"W... what was that for?" he asks, breathless. I heave against his lips, eager for another. My thumb traces his bottom lip which has reddened from the kiss.

"Just... please..."

A corner of his lips twitches upwards in a teasing smile. "You... you couldn't hold back after watching me get all wet while I fixed the faucet...?"

He shuts up as I kiss him again. His arm snakes behind the small of my back, pulling me even closer to his body. The air grows humid around us, as moist as what I feel inside me, what I feel down there. I rest my hands on his chest and gasp when he lowers his hand and squeezes my ass.  

"A... are you sure about this?" he whispers. "Because if you are... I won't be able to stop myself."

"What do you think?" I respond, my throat tight after the torrid exchange.

He laughs with a deep, resounding sound. I yelp when he unexpectedly sweeps me off my feet and carries me outside the restroom. "Okay then. If we're doing this... we're doing this the right way."

I capture his lips, feral and depraved, even as he carries me. His tongue slides inside my mouth, which I'd only been imagining earlier. His hands squeeze my thighs, and every footstep rocks my core against his caged cock.

"Sit down on the pool table," he orders, to which I obliged. "That's right--lay back." My eyes never leave his as I lean backwards to the table, my elbows keeping me upright.

"Good girl." My heartbeat drums against my ears as he crawls to me, hungry and impatient. "Here, let me just grab these--" he reaches for my trousers' buttons "--and slide them off."

He throws a teasing glance at my underwear. "Oooh, pink." My chuckle turns into a moan when he thumbs a sweet spot in my center.

"You know, you're wearing too drab colors on the outside..." he flicks my clit against the thin fabric. I throw my head back in a soft yell. "... but you're really colorful on the inside."

He crawls back into another passionate kiss, positioning himself between my thighs. He sucks and bites, and all I can do is whimper. I rake my fingers across his soft mullet and unconsciously lie further on the table. This is making me too impatient, but waiting always pays off well in this situation.

"Spread your legs nice and wide." His hands trail to my thighs to push them farther apart. I follow through with his command. He kisses me again, before murmuring, "I'm gonna make my way down slowly..."

My pussy twitches in avid anticipation, and I'm feeling stickier and wetter. His tongue grazes the hollow of my throat, making me gasp for air.

"Fuck," I whisper as I feel his teeth against my collar bone. His fingers fumble over the buttons of my blouse. He bites and sucks every exposed skin, until he makes his way to my chest.

"... right down your thighs..." I feel the warmth of his voice against my breasts, his lips trailing kisses and hickeys down to my lower abdomen. Pain and pleasure stalk my spine, and I shiver. "Do you know what I want, sweetheart?" he rises from the depths of my body to meet me in the eyes.  

"What...?" I ask, short-winded.

"Young lady, I wanna taste that pussy of yours so bad..." A finger makes its way against the lips of my cunt, stroking and massaging. I pant, biting my lower lips so hard it may bleed against my teeth. "When I saw that wet shirt of yours... I started getting some... really bad thoughts."

"Yeah?" I chuckle, breathy and sultry.

I see him smirk as he continues to tease my hole. I squirm like a worm under his scathing touch. "Looks like my dreams are gonna come true tonight," he taunts. "Heh, look what I found."

"Shit, ugh!" I feel his wet and slick tongue stroke my twitching pussy. His relentless and starved pressure against my cunt is enough to make my back arch, slowly provoking insanity within me. His lips capture my most sensitive spot, and I scream. "Ah, yes! There!"

Fingers--I don't know how many--slides inside my hole without his tongue ever leaving my increasingly wetter pussy. I grip his hair tightly, afraid of suddenly bursting and peeing all over his face. "No--ugh, yes!" My head thrashes against the green table. "Oh my god--ah, ah!"

A monstrous groan vibrates against my wetness. Fuck, that may have sent me over the edge of not for the tense muscles in my inner thighs. "The faucet didn't spray you down here... why are you so wet, young lady?"

His pace increases, his tongue frantic, and his fingers rapidly pushing and pulling against my sensitive walls. Like a button, he presses on a newfound spot.

"Ugh!" I yelp. "Please, it's... it's too much... fuckitssogood!" My eyes roll, and my back bends to the intense pleasure building inside. He continues to thrust and lick faster... and faster... and--

"AH!" My walls melt and weaken, my toes curl, and my eyes tear up. I feel the wave of fluid escape my cunt, but it never escaped his hunting mouth. I moan some more, still sensitive from the orgasm. This crazy old guy--what the fuck is his tongue made of?

"Oh god," he grunts, his panting echoing against the bars' walls. "Oh my god--what a lucky old fucking man I am tonight."

I laugh, tired from the sudden orgasm on the randomest of Tuesdays. "You're welcome," I tease. My thighs remain open, pussy still twitching yet preparing for the next wave.

"Hold on, let me get something." He scurries off, opens a cabinet, and grabs a condom. I sigh in relief. I almost fucking forgot to protect my womb. "Sweetheart."

"Yeah?"

"Take this," he ordered yet again, to which I, yet again, followed. "Take it out and put it on me."

Oh, how I longed to see what hides behind that huge bulk.

I raise my gaze at him, drawing a siren look that sends sailors to their deaths. He cups my face, eyelids drooping down. "That's right: rip it open--" I put the wrapper between my teeth, ripping it open. "--oh... with your teeth? That's a sexy move."

And that made me feel like a damn good girl.

I undo his belt and unzip his pants. "Take it out," he guides. I pull his pants down--which I've apparently done too close because his monstrous cock slaps my mouth. "Woah, holy shit," I murmur. Someone's too excited.

"I know, it's already free sweetie," he smiles, somewhat apologetic yet still lustful. "I just couldn't help myself when I saw you soaked in water--ugh!"

He groans as my hands slide down the length of his cock, the condom rolling down smoothly against the protruding veins of his fucking humungous trophy. Bartender dicks can't always be this big, right?

"There you go... put it right on me... good girl." He lifts my chin with one hand and licks his lips. Sexy. "You're so behaved. I like that."

I guess I'm one lucky young lady.

He softly pushes me back to lie down on the table. I spread my legs wider, once again exposing and submitting everything to this hot stranger. He lifts my ass towards the wooden border of the table and eyes my whole being.

He slaps his cock against my core. Again. And again. And again.

"Shit," I whimper. I feel my cunt shivering against the slick length of his cock as he begins rubbing and hitting my clit.

"I'm gonna get your fucking pussy juices all over my cock," he says, low and guttural, tickling my eardrums. Anticipation wells in my stomach, and I grow more and more impatient. I need him. I need him to take me now.  

"Please..." I grind my hips against him, feeling his cock getting more and more slippery from my soaked folds. He smirks, taunting me even more with a squeeze on my ass. His other hand rests on my hips, assisting his grinding motion. He feels hot and good against me--how much more when he's finally inside me? "... fuck me now, please..."

He hides his heightened desire with a chuckle. "You ready, sweetheart?"

"I think we both feel that," I laugh. Strangely enough, I feel safe and comfortable with this man, even now that he's about to ravish me with that... gargantuan thing that probably has its own brain.

"Yeah?" His eyes turn serious. His hand reaches out my cheek, and I lean into his touch. How can a person be sexy and sweet all at the same time? "Look at me," he orders, and I follow. His sea-green eyes have turned into dark pools of lust, filling me with excitement. "Look at me and tell me you want it."

My pussy throbs more, calling for his dick. His thumb rests beside my lips, and I turn my head to lick and suck it without losing his gaze. His chest rises; his eyes grow darker. "I want you," I say, resolve and desire coursing through my veins. "I want you to fuck me. Please."

"Good girl."

He slides in with a grunt, and I wince. Pain enters my system, through which I hiss. My breathing quickens, and I grab his forearm in a tight grip. So, this is what it feels like to actually be penetrated, huh?

"You're too big..." I manage to whisper.

"I know... I'll go slow, don't worry," he reassures, before groaning, "Fuck, you're so tight, I can't..." He sees my pained look. "... it's okay... I'm gonna go slow, sweetie..."

Fuck this. He's deliciously big but too big! I breathe deeply, relaxing myself to accommodate his size. "Just... continue. I can take you."

He pushes in with a grunt. His hands steady my hips, and slowly, he begins to find rhythm. At first, it feels like being ripped open and apart, but now...

... oh my fucking god.

A moan escapes my lips.

"Oooh, fuck -- there we go..." he licks his lips, and continues to thrust. My mind blurs as my pussy welcomes a familiar sensation. My nipples perk up, and my toes begin to curl. I draw a deep breath and whimpers. Fuck, it's starting. "Look at you smiling now."

I manage to let out a chuckle. "It's starting--ugh--to feel good--fuck, yes, right there... oh!"

"You ready for the whole thing?" 

This isn't the whole thing yet!? His cock throbs inside me, thrusting and waiting to reach the deepest trenches of my being. If half of his dick already feels this good, then how much more if I let him devour me more?

"Do it."

My belly suddenly fills up, taking his whole cock in. I scream in pleasure together with his groans.

"You're so tight," he grunts, panting through his mouth. "You're such a small girl."

"Oh--ah! More---ugh!"

"This is gonna help you forget anything--ugh--on your mind sweetie..." He leans forward, capturing my lips in a short kiss. My mind goes blank as he pushes harder. "You can use me. I'm gonna help you forget everything on your mind, sweetheart... oh, fuck... I'm all yours tonight."

His whispers echo in my brain as I lose my sense of being. My hands reach out to his back, scratching at the fabric of his clothes. The walls of my core clench tightly around his already wet dick, and I feel my pussy drip juices down my ass.

"Yes, I--fuck, yeah--I will!" I cry out mindlessly.

"Oh, yeah, ugh," he grunts against my ear, pushing and pulling, and pushing and pulling. He straightens up and gently tugs my feet. "Put your ankles on my shoulders." I follow. "Good girl."

I never knew how much I'd love to be good for a man until this night.

He reangles himself. One thrust is enough to hit another sensitive spot inside me.

"Oh my god! There!"

"You like it?"

"Fuck, yes!"

He continues to hit the same spot again and again, his pace picking up. My fingers claw on the rough texture of the pool table, unaware where to cling to for sanity. Throaty grunts and loud moans surround the whole bar. They ricochet against the walls and the tables, filling my ears with lustful music.  

"Oh yes, sweetie," he moans aloud. My hand flies to his forearm for stability. "Yes--give me your hands."

Crying and whimpering, I raise my weakened hands towards his. He captures my wrists with one hand before leaning forward and pushing my legs to my body further. He holds my arms above my head, panting.  

"Oh my god, it feels so good..." I moan, breathless. Pressure begins to well inside my belly. My mind reels further, and my eyes begin to tear up from the intense pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, fuck--shit--I might... I might--"

I yelp as my belly crashes into a puddle of sweet juices. My chest heaves as he pulls his dick out of me. He reaches out a hand, which I accept, despite my body's sensitivity to every sensation.

Chapter 7 -- Countertop Crescendo

"I want you to sit on the stool."

Thank god, there's more.

I rise up, legs wobbly from orgasming just seconds ago. He takes me to the counter and  wishes for me to sit down on one of the stools.

"I don't suppose you deep clean this every day, right?"

"Uhhh..." He places both his hands on his hips, his face sheepish as he pants. He looks funny in that stance with his giant dick perked up like a tree branch. I stare, trying not to laugh, as his face lights up in an idea. He grabs his shirt. "Let me put my shirt down on it."

"Now sit down," he commands, still breathless. I doubtlessly follow. "Let your ha..." he pants. I chuckle at his breathlessness, and he laughs with me. "Sorry," he states before continuing, "Let your ass... hang over the edge."

I do what he says. I lean forward the counter, spread my thighs, and offer my ass to his liking. My back faces him, so I turn my head to him. "Is this alright?"

"Exactly, just like that." He inhales deeply before stepping behind me. "I just wanna whisper in your ear... while playing with these tits."

His hands trace my ass, then my hips, up to my waist, and finally--

"Hah..." I exhale through my lips, my impatience satisfied. He cups my tits in his calloused palms. His thumb and forefinger cage both my nipples, squeezing and fondling. The tickle from his touch travels down my spine to my pussy, exciting it once again. He palms my tips and encases them with his large hands.

"I'll squeeze these fucking tits behind you," he whispers in my ear before squeezing them, hard. I cry out both in pain and pleasure. But when is he gonna come back to my pussy? "You like it when I rub your pussy, don't you?"

Oh, I fucking do.

His right hand leaves my chest to reach out to my cunt and begins to rub its slips, excruciatingly slow, before suddenly inserting multiple fingers at once.

"Oh, fuck--" I hiss through my teeth before biting my forearm resting on the counter. He thrusts his fingers in the same rhythmic manner he used earlier with his cock.

"You're so fucking wet." I hear the teasing smirk in his voice, together with the loud squelching of my moist and sticky cunt.  

"Ugh, ugh--fucking hell--harder, please!" I squirm under his touch, knees trembling. My breath is hot against my cheeks when I lean my face to the countertop.

"Fuck, sweetie, you're dripping onto the floor of the bar," he groans, seemingly hungry for my pussy again. "After I cleaned up everything, you're gonna make a mess like that?"

"S... sorry--ah!" He quickened his pace, turning me rabid and insane. My buttcheeks clench together with the walls of my pussy, tightening around his fingers.

"It's okay sweetie. Don't worry about it," he responds, as if to taunt me further. "Let your pussy fucking drip on the floor and make your mess." He groans the last words out of his mouth. My moans vibrate to the countertop, screams and cries slipping out every now and again.

"I want more..." I cry out.

"You want that dick again?" he asks, guttural yet playful. I respond with a whimper.

"Yeah? Is it making you forget...?"

I moan aloud, almost into a scream, which probably sounds like a 'yes.'

"Good," he whispers.

His whole cock slides right in easily inside my belly, gentle yet at the same time forceful. He fills my whole canal with his thickness in one swift motion, and thrusts without hesitation. Grunts combined with my rough whimpers and pleas ring in our ears.

"My god--" Tears well up in my eyes in sweet, sweet pleasure "--more, mooore!"

"Yes, baby--ugh--you're so fucking tight--ah, shit!"

I beg him to go faster, and he does as his hands roam my hips, waist, and chest, until his hand finds my throat in a careful choke. I sob, relishing in every sensation all over my body.

"Hmm... you like that?"

"I do... hah..."

His thumb travels to my mouth, which I warmly welcome with my tongue. He rams inside me again and again, and I try to match his rhythm with the movement of my hips.

"Faster..." I beg in a shrill voice. "Please..."

He increases his pace with groans that scream pleasure. I'm not the only one going crazy here. His deep grunts turn into whimpers--my orchestra for tonight. For the second time, my womb begins to well with something that waits... and waits...

"Ugh, ugh--fuck," he moans, voice tight and restrained. "I'm gonna cum..."

"Hah... hah... m... me too..." My belly starts to ache, full with juices I need to release.

"You want...?"

"Fuck, yes."

The speed picks up again. Slapping sounds surround the entire room, mixed with the harmonies of our pleasure. I arch my back towards his body behind me, my arms supporting my body against the countertop. He thrusts quickly, breathing as heavily as me behind my back.  

With one last cry, we erupt into wild spasms, and my body crashes on the counter after another blow of pleasure. I feel my own juices trail down the lips of my pussy, down to my still-sensitive clitoris. The condom expands inside as his semen continues to explode.

I try to breathe through my fast heartbeat, while he gasps for air. Groaning, he pulls out his dick, suddenly emptying my fulfilled cunt.  

"Oh, god," he begins. "You're such a good fucking girl."

"Aren't I?" Laughter slips out my throat. I can't believe I just agreed to being called a good girl in this lifetime.

He chuckles and lifts me up from the stool to sit on the countertop. I lean into his palm as he caresses my cheek. "That was..."

"Yeah?"

"That was literally mind-blowing."

"Heh." I smile. I turn my head to kiss his palm. "Of course it was."

"Hey now, who's getting cocky?" He leans forward to plant a small kiss on my nose before looking around. Shock crosses his eyes, and I bite a lip when I realize why.

"What have we done?"

Trails of pussy juices cling both to the poor pool table, his shirt on the stool, and the otherwise squeaky clean floor. "Pfft."

He raises a brow in curiosity. "Look who's amused now."

What was once a small 'pfft' turns into laughter. He laughs, too, albeit dazed and confused. "What--why?" He searches my eyes with such bewildered amusement. I take his cheek full of stubble in my hand, my gaze softening into gratitude.

"You know?" I ask.

"What?"

"I'll help you clean up," I answer with a kiss.

***

Chapter 8 -- Morning Clarity

The morning comes with a gentle greeting of the sun through the white curtains inside the man's room. A bulky and warm body embraces my back with a protective arm around my naked body. The soft humming of snores hits the back of my head, making me smile.

Last night was just... perfect.

Until it dawns on me. I only had my engagement broken three days ago. My throat tightens into an uncomfortable realization.  

I immediately rise up from the bed, gathering my clothes scattered around the floor. Even I grow amazed by how quickly I was able to fix myself up from my ragged yet glowing look. I shouldn't be glowing like this. I run to the door, my hand almost touching the doorknob, but I turn to him.

I sigh, emptiness starting to creep up my chest. He lies peacefully on the bed, probably still quietly assuming that I am still in his arms. I walk to him slowly and kneel beside the bed.

His hair is soft against my fingers, and his jaw rests loosely against the pillow. I chuckle at his snores, before realizing that I'm staring at his lips. I let my finger trace the bottom, heart fluttering at the memories of the remnants these same lips left all over my body. His eyelids are closed, making me yearn to see his beautiful and expressive eyes once again.

But everything about this feels wrong--it is wrong. I shouldn't have involved a man whose name I don't even know into my problems. No one deserves to be treated like... like a rebound.

"What the fuck have you done, Allison...?" I whisper to myself, before looking at his sleeping face. Who am I to take advantage of a stranger's compassion for my benefit? Ah, fuck myself.

I touch his cheek and softly mumbles, "I'm sorry." I turn to the door, determined yet regretful that I have to leave the man who gave one unforgettable night. But this is one night that I must forget. It's one night full of mistakes.

All of a sudden, his moans of last night erupt in my mind... his gentle yet firm caress, and the feel of his cock inside my--

Yup. I don't ever wanna come across this man again. Fuck.  

I brisk towards the door without ever looking back. I will never see this guy again.  

Never.