You found her online. It was fun flirting, but you’d never let it get past the usual exchange of steamy pics and loaded texts. This one though, has somehow convinced you to meet for drinks, could have been the video she sent you, but you’ve seen plenty like that before, there’s only so much a girl can do with a fake dick, or her fingers. This one tells you all of the things she could show you, things you’ve wanted to try, but never could because of the wall flowers you always seem to bring home. Sure they’re nice, but sometimes you want to play, and they would be so out of their depth they’d drown.
You finally arrive at the bar and she’s arranged to meet you at nine. You’ve shown up a little early because you are that kind of punctual, and now you’re ready to turn right around and go home at the sight of the place. It’s the kind of dive bar even bleach water would run uphill to avoid, but it’s too late now. You recognize her form materializing in the streetlight just before the bar entrance. “Hi.” she says. You’ve not heard her speak before, so it’s a shock to hear the slightly rough quality to her voice, like velvet rubbed the wrong way. The pictures have not done her justice either, you knew she had curves, you didn’t expect the hourglass shape, which you can see crystal clear thanks to the black mini-dress with the little gold beads cascading down the flared skirt, twinkling in the streetlight. You finally remember to respond with a hello, and open the door to the bar. Once inside you both find seats in a dark corner booth of an already dark and dingy bar. You feel the stickiness on the table and you know the barkeep has probably not cleaned the table in years, but it’s the place she wants, so you go with it.
Sidling up to the bar you order a couple of margaritas and hope the bartender pours heavy for your sake. You need to get rid of the nerves this place has given you. Returning to the table you exchange some small talk, and she keeps brushing up against your leg. You’re not sure if its because the booth is too small or if she’s just being playful, after one more nudge from her you realize the booth is plenty big. She has her hand resting on your inner thigh, she begins slowly tracing light circles with her fingertips and nails, your cock growing with each inch those little circles move closer. By the time she reaches your zipper, you’re afraid it’s going to pop out like a Jack-in-the-box. She pops the button on your slacks and you grab her wrist. What is she doing?! You let out a little gasp and look around to make sure no one has noticed the show. She giggles and says ” You didn’t think I was going to wait until we got back to your place, did you?”. She’s caught you off guard and before you know it, your dick is fully out of your slacks and you’re sure everyone can see it. She can feel you starting to lose your erection, so she tells you to look at the beer sign behind the bar. You realize the tiny thing is a mirror, and that no one can see what’s going on under the table unless they walk right up to it. Once you realize you cant be seen, your prick takes on a mind of its own, or so it seems. Under the guidance of her hand you’ve not only gotten a full blown hard on, its probably the hardest you’ve ever been, and that includes the time you edged for a week. She started slow, almost like she was literally trying to give it a massage. Now she’s got one hand moving up and down the shaft and head, using the precum to lube things up, and with each upward stroke she squeezes ever so slightly, like those moments just before a pussy tightens up from orgasm. The other hand she has on your balls and intermittently plays with your taint, moving her fingers there in tandem with her hand, making it feel like you’re balls deep and then some.
At this point, you’re thankful to the drunk ass who kept playing those shitty top 40 pop songs because they are at least loud enough to cover most of the moans and sounds you’ve been making, but you’re getting close and you’re not sure you can keep quiet. She can tell you’re ready to cum so she slows for just long enough to whisper her instructions. “I’m going to put my glass under the table for you, you’re going to have to help me with this last part. You don’t want the poor bartender to have to clean up your mess from under the table, do you?” You agree that wouldn’t be best so she continues “When you’re ready to pop, I want you to cum in my glass.” You’re a little confused, but at this point you don’t care. She finishes you with her hands, and its all you can do to make it into the glass and keep yourself quiet enough to make sure no one notices your little show in the corner. To your surprise, not a drop spilled, she grabs the glass from you and mixes half of your unfinished margarita with your cum. You rearrange yourself while she finishes her special mixed drink, and when she’s finished you two head for the door….
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/6qmh7d/shaken_not_stirred_mf_public