[FM] A very different visit to a pub

“But why are they always so old?” my flatmate asked loudly. We’d been talking about celebrity crushes, and she quickly picked up a pattern to mine… Pierce Brosnan, Robert Downey Jr, my flatmate had spotted a pattern that I couldn’t deny. It was a cold mid-December evening and we’d been drinking for quite a while, our conversation getting more giggly and excitable. “So you’re telling me you’d… I dunno… blow a guy that age if he was into you?” she asked. “Yeah, I would” was my stubborn reply – as well as somewhat drunk, I was a little annoyed at her querying my taste in guys and didn’t want to give in.

“Right!” she said, banging on the table to be deliberately dramatic. “Prove it!” After laughing, I asked her how. “I bet you that you wouldn’t dare to suck off an older guy in the next month”. Of course, I insisted that I would to back up my point. “Then prove it!” she reiterated. Again, I asked her how. “I dunno, however you like… there must be loads of guys here that won’t say no to that!”

I was thrown a bit by her bluster. “Okay, but how much? We’re both students! Neither of us have any money! And why am I the only one doing this?!” She responded with a dismissive “Pfft…”, the paused for a moment. “I don’t care, I’d do it with an older bloke, doesn’t bother me.” More silence from her. Then “Okay, here’s the deal… whoever blows the oldest guy in the next month wins”.

Wins what? I asked. “Winner gets to choose a forfeit for the loser” she proclaimed proudly after a pause. I laughed, but she was serious. We ribbed each other for a little while, taunting and teasing that the other would chicken out, which only fired up my flatmate more. “Right! Fine! Wait a minute! She disappeared into her room, crashed about for a moment, then came out with a pen and paper. Next thing I knew, she’d written a “contract” outlining the details, and we were loudly – and honestly excitedly – discussing and fine-tuning the details of the wager to make it cheat-proof.

1. The winner is whoever gives a blowjob to the oldest man by midnight on 1st February

2. The blowjob has to be until the man cums

3. Evidence has to be provided of:

a. The man’s age, with some ID showing their date of birth

b. That the blowjob took place with a photo, video, or the other flatmate watching

After a few attempts it was written and signed, and she continued to smugly rib me about how I wouldn’t follow through and that she’d have to think of a good forfeit. Eventually, conversation drifted elsewhere (well, mostly, it still kept cropping up) until we called it a day.

The next morning, we both woke groggily to find the “contract” still on our kitchen table. This seemed like the moment we’d laugh it off and throw it in the bin… but no. We were both still adamant that we weren’t going to concede defeat, and to be honest I think a boring year without many opportunities to meet people that was different to the university experience we were expecting added some excitement to the whole idea that made it more appealing. So, even sober, we were both determined that the bet was on.

At this point I should describe us both – I’m an English Lit student, 18 years old, 5 foot 4, slim with 32B boobs, blonde hair and green eyes. My flatmate is a History student, also 18, 5 foot 6 with dark hair, slim with bigger boobs.

With that out of the way, and the bet on, my next question was… how to meet someone? I’d never used it before, but I figured the obvious answer was Tinder. So I signed up, dropped some photos on there, and put an upfront profile explaining what I was looking for. I played around with the age settings, and away I went.

Honestly, the hard part was finding guys who didn’t seem dodgy, gross, or just plain scary – my flatmate wasn’t really aware, but I’d only been with one guy before and wasn’t exactly full of experience, so I wanted to meet someone without any pressure. It also seemed like there weren’t many older guys using Tinder who weren’t married or looking for something weird, so it wasn’t the “easy mode” I expected.

Eventually, a few days ago, I made a promising match. He was 43, not too far from me, and was both pretty decent looking and could write in proper sentences. He was also pretty easy-going and actually pretty chilled out to talk to. I was a bit disappointed then when our conversation went quiet, until it finally sprang back into life on Christmas Eve. In short, the guy in question owned a pub, and as it would be closed from Boxing Day he was willing to meet. I was free too, so we were on!

By the time the afternoon we’d agreed to meet rolled around, I was hittering with nerves, which I distracted myself from my looking through my wardrobe deciding what to wear. I ended up opting for a relatively short black dress, which I matched with some black thigh-high socks (it was too cold and wet for bare legs), underneath which was a lacy black bra and thong. Pulling on a winter coat and grabbing my bag, I was set. The 10-15 minute walk to our agreed meeting place was just what I needed to settle the adrenaline, which meant that even though my heart was thumping I felt a little calmer by the time I arrived at the public meeting spot.

He was already waiting – a bit under 6 foot maybe, in a dark coat, dressed casually with a well-groomed beard and balding head. He recognised me from my blonde hair (which I dye lighter), and waved at me cautiously to check I was who I thought he was. When I waved back and moved over to him, he seemed a little relieved and surprised that I’d turned up at all. We talked at a distance for a minute or two about our respective (boring) Christmas Day, before he asked if I still wanted to go ahead.

I nodded a little shyly, which was his cue to lead the way, crossing the street and heading down the road to the nearby pub which he ran. Unlocking the heavy doors, he beckoned me inside, before following me and relocking the door. It was weird being in an empty pub, and he watched as I looked around the place for a while, putting my bag down on the bar. “Do you want a drink, or okay as you are?” he asked. A drink didn’t seem like a great idea so I declined. “Just want to get straight to it then!” he exclaimed with a grin, and again I nodded a little coyly. “You’ll want to see this first then” he said, pulling out his wallet and finding his driving license. Standing under a light while he awkwardly covered his name but showed his date of birth, I took a photo for evidence with my phone.

Rather than do anything inside the pub area, he instead suggested we go into the office area as it had running heating and was warmer, so we moved into his small, warm room with a desk and boxes everywhere. Inviting me to take off my coat, he admiring me for a while as I stood there awkwardly, then asked if I’d be comfortable taking some more off to help him get ready.

I’d agreed I’d be okay with this before we met, so I unhooked the straps of the dress from my shoulders and let it drop to the floor, standing there in my thigh-highs, bra, panties. “Lovely” he muttered, looking me up and down for quite a while as I just stood there. “Can I see the rest?” he asked, so I unhooked my bra, and dropped it to the floor next to my dress. Again I stood there, as he couldn’t resist touching himself through the tracksuit bottoms he was wearing, and I could see he was getting hard. I then took hold of my thong, pulling it down and stepping out of it to stand in front of him naked. I felt an excited tingle standing there while he looked me up and down for what seemed like forever.

“Why don’t you sit on my desk to take your socks off?” he suggested. I had planned to leave them on (I think they look sexy), but did as he requested, sitting on his desk to pull the long socks down off my legs, glancing out to realise he was looking directly at my pussy. He tugged down his bottoms, and I now got to see his erect penis for the first time.

My socks discarded, he asked if I was ready to come over to him, before pausing and asking if I needed my phone for photo evidence. I did, so he pulled his bottoms back up to dash out to the bar, coming back with the phone I’d left there. Handing it to me to unlock, I then handed it back to him as I got onto my knees in the office, using my discarded dress to make it more comfortable. Now his bottoms were around his ankles, and his cock almost completely hard – it was maybe 7 inches or so, but I’m no good at measurements.

“All yours” he told me, moving closer so he was right in front of me. There was no more time to hesitate, so I reached out and took his cock in my hand, stroking it a few times before I leaned forward and slid my lips around it. “Ohh yeah” I heard from him as I started sucking. I hadn’t done this in the best part of a year, so tried to remember what the only other guy I’d done this to liked, bobbing my head enthusiastically and letting him slide in and out of my mouth. I was concentrating so hard I didn’t hear him say “Look up” until the second (or third, maybe?) time of asking, at which point he took a few photos on my phone while I sucked, before leaning across to put it on his desk.

I sucked his cock as enthusiastically as I could, spurred on by his moans and groans, and his occasional tips, asking me to go a little faster or use my tongue more. He also talked dirty a little, telling me how good I looked with my head bobbing up and down, and asking me to look up at him while I sucked once or twice so we made eye contact.

After about 10 minutes of this, my jaw was starting to ache a little, and I was taken by surprise as he leaned down to grope and massage my boobs, toying with my nipples and squeezing my breasts as I carried on sucking. This extra stimulation obviously helped him, as not long after he started playing with my boobs he told me that he was getting close. This information actually threw me off my rhythm for a while, so I had to work to get back to a speed and technique that was bringing him close. When I got it right he encouraged me by telling me “That’s right… like that… don’t stop”, so I focused on keeping it up.

It took a couple of minutes more from this until I heard “That’s it… that’s it… you’re gonna make me cum…”, before he tensed up and came in my mouth. I swallowed it all down as quickly as I could, and managed to swallow it all down as he groaned repeatedly while he had his orgasm. Once he was done I moved my mouth away, wiping it with my arm and carefully getting back to my feet.

I suddenly felt shy and self-conscious when he asked if I’d like him to get me off… although I was now quite aroused from what I’d just done, I shook my head and said I was okay while I found my underwear from my pile of clothes. He seemed disappointed, but quickly recovered to tell me how much he’d enjoyed it, that he hoped I’d win my bet, and to keep in touch if I ever wanted to come back or have a lock-in at the pub, still watching me intently while I pulled on my underwear and dress.

I thanked him for everything too, and he leaned in for a peck on the cheek as he handed me my phone back. I took my coat and bag, and headed off back home to proudly tell my flatmate that I was now in the lead, showing her the evidence as she alternated between laughing, gawping and saying “OH. MY. GOD.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/kksz9h/fm_a_very_different_visit_to_a_pub