It had only been a few weeks since my first BDSM experience, but it was already time for me to move for professional obligations. I had a very emotional time with my first Sir and set my sights on my next city. This included a gift: a leather collar. What was the significance of this? Well, we both knew that I couldn’t be owned in the traditional sense, but He wanted to give me something to let me know that He would always be there for me.
I loaded up my car and hit the road. Unfortunately, about 100 miles into the middle of nowhere, my car engine started overheating. I pulled into a gas station and checked with a nearby mechanic. They could get me back in motion, but it would take a few hours. I spent the rest of that time scrolling meaninglessly through my apps until I found someone I was enjoying flirting with. He had a gruff, country look to him. Keep in mind; this was the middle of nowhere. He was still at work so we discussed plans for playing. Unfortunately, by the time he was ready to go, my car was back up and running. So instead, I settled for having him meet me at the nearby gas station. I went to the bathroom and took off my panties. I went to his car and threw them in at him. At that was that.
—
On arriving, I asked around to see where the move was. I found a bar that held a kink night once a week. Seemed reasonable enough; I got used to taking the train with a bag full of my gear. Getting to the bar was like a transformation for me. Most of it was brand-spanking-new-gear that I had decided to pick up on my way. One second I was in my work clothes; a quick trip to the bathroom, and then I’d be back in my gear. The typical outfit: black cotton spandex top and booty shorts, my black leather collar, and a black leather eye mask. It wasn’t just my underwear, but it might as well have been. It was so liberating, I felt completely exposed and incognito at the same time. This was to the degree that bar patrons mentioned that they didn’t even notice me come in.
My first week, I just chatted and made friends. We left together to check out a local sex shop, but there wasn’t too much there to interest me.
My second week, however, was a different crowd. The bar was pretty much empty, but I found myself talking to a pair of guys. Both looked to be about my age; in their 20s, 30s tops. One was a shorter, heavier-set white guy who had a thick mane of chest hair. The other was a tall, athletic Asian man with a German accent.
First talking and drinking. Then a bit more drinking. Around midnight, I was on my hands and knees on the floor of the bar. It started with heavy petting. The hands were interchangeable, but I was ecstatic feeling them all over my body. (Always over the clothes though, for what it’s worth.) I could feel a pair of fingers rubbing between my thighs and then up towards my pussy. Both of them had their cocks out. The American had a shorter, cut cock compared to his friend with a long, slender uncut cock. The American guy would gently grab my face and direct it to his cock and I’d start licking and teasing the tip. I experienced such deep depersonalization, I became completely, totally focused on the sex. Above me, I could hear them talking about me in the third person like an object.
“It’s a good girl, isn’t it?”
By now, I moved to the German’s cock and I was so aroused. I was forcing my head down deep onto his cock. His cock, while long, was thin that it didn’t strain my jaw and it was incredibly pleasing aesthetically, so much fun to suck. The American was jerking himself off while he continued to grope and grape me from behind. I spread my knees wider and pushed my butt up in the air so he could get as much surface area as possible. I could hear him moan as he came on the floor of the bar. Meanwhile, I was centered on my task at hand. The German guy was putting more energy into it, pumping his hips faster alongside me. He whipped his cock out of my mouth and cupped his head as he blocked the first and second streams of cum. I grabbed his cock again the universal sign for “It’s fine, please just fucking nut in my mouth.” His load was salty and I swallowed it.
By this time, the guys were a lot less conversant. I’m still not entirely clear on the rules, but the bartender didn’t mention anything when I picked up my day clothes and changed back.
When I got home, I went immediately to bed and then the next morning, I finished the job, rubbing myself to a mind-boggling orgasm in the shower.
—
Unfortunately (or maybe for the best) that was about the extent of my fun for that month. I did meet up with one more guy. Y’all should know I have a weakness. I can’t help but crush on the thin, geeky type: skinny jeans, unkempt hair, glasses. This was that kind of guy. BUT, he didn’t have his own place, so we didn’t get much further than making out. Oh well.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/d17gmc/on_all_fours_for_a_pair_and_a_few_other_tidbits
I want to visit this bar!