[M]y [F]irst Time: In a Bar

It was the end of what I thought would be a fairly typical business trip. Except, it wasn’t typical at all.

On the last day of meetings, I learned that the promising start-up was not starting up at all. In fact, the company was broke. The only bright spot was that I had been given a stack of cash to cover my travel expenses and my last three days of work.

I did the only thing that made any sense. I checked out of my hotel and grabbed a cab. En route to the airport, I noticed a dive bar with a sandwich board out front that proclaimed a $2.00 SHOT AND A BEER.

“Cabbie, can you drop me there?” pointing to the bar.

It was a little before noon, and my flight was scheduled for 6:00pm. I had time to kill, and some cash to help things along.

I was not going to mope at the airport, I was going to mope properly, in a dive bar, whacking back $2.00 shots of cheap whiskey chased by cheap ass beer.

I figured I’d spend an hour or two (and $10.00) before I headed to the airport so I could travel home with a buzz, which would definitely soften the blow of having to explain to my wife about the most recent change in my employment status. 

I threw a $10.00 bill on the bar and asked for a shot and a beer.

It was a shot of rotgut, and an ice cold 7 ounce beer.

She set up a second, and a third.

I’m alone, wallowing in my misery when a woman sits down next to me. “Celebrating?” she asks.

“Yeah, unemployment. Why else would I be drinking at 12:30 in the afternoon?”

She looked to be around 40, athletic, with spectacular breasts that strained against her blouse. Her brown hair framed her face, and when she laughed, she flipped her hair and smiled. She had the kind of attractiveness borne of money and confidence, and I offered her a drink.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said.

And, she did. Several, in fact.

At around 2:00pm, she asked how I was getting to the airport. 

“Taking a cab.”

“What time is your flight?”

I told her.

“Too bad you have to leave,” she said.

“Too bad I’m married,” I replied.

We talked some more, flirted like horny teenagers, and had one more shot and a beer each.

I asked the bartender to call me a cab.

“It’s going to be 20 minutes,” she said.

I asked for the bill as my companion at the bar headed for the bathroom. 

That seemed like a good idea, since I didn’t think it was prudent to hold it for the next 30 minutes. 

I headed for the men’s room, and we met up once more. 

She kissed me by surprise.

Deeply, passionately. 

She pushed me into the women’s bathroom, where she immediately took care of her most pressing need. When she had finished, she told me to do the same.

I took out my semi-hard cock, and with some effort, took a leak as she watched with amusement.

Then, she stood in front of the sink, as if to wash her hands. Instead, she hiked up her skirt.

“I want your cock.”

She leaned on the sink, looking at me in the mirror.

“My cab is going to be here….”

“In 15 minutes,” she said, finishing sentence. “There’s time, if you want.”

My cock is throbbing, and the blood loss in my brain is obviously affecting my judgment because I am tempted.

Her ass is spectacular. Her thong is blue, like my balls will be if I don’t get some relief. 

14 minutes. 

She reaches back and pulls her thong to one side with one hand.

“I’m soaked.”

13 minutes. 

I slap her ass, playfully, watching it jiggle alluringly. 

My cock is out, and I drag the head across her ass and to her waiting pussy.

Shit! She is wet.

The thong doesn’t interfere as I push into her warm waiting cunt.

12 minutes. 

I can see her face in the mirror, contorting as she accepts my length. I can see my face as well.

“Fuck, this is hot,” she growls.

11 minutes. 

I grab her hips, and start moving, slowly at first, then picking up my pace as she moans softly with each thrust.

10 minutes. 

I look down and see my glistening shaft sliding in and out of her cunt. 

9 minutes. 

She arches her back and turns her head, and we kiss urgently as I fuck her harder and faster. 

8 minutes. 

“I’m on the pill,” she says. “I don’t care where you cum, as long as it’s in me.”

7 minutes. 

I can see it in our faces.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

We said it at the same time.

We were going to cum together. 

Her cunt started to contract around my cock as I continued my assault on her pussy.

6 minutes. 

I was weak in the knees.

I began pumping her cunt full of my cum. I was shaking as I emptied my balls into her.

5 minutes. 

I stepped back, and she dragged her fingers across her pussy, gathering the cum leaking from inside of her. I watched her lick her fingers clean in the mirror before she adjusted her thong and skirt.

4 minutes. 

She knelt down in front of me and swallowed my spent cock, sucking the rest of what we made off of me.

3 minutes.

She kissed me one more time. I could taste our sex on her lips. I squared myself away and walked back into the bar.

2 minutes. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” the bartender inquired. “I thought you ran out on your tab.” 

She’s pissed.

“I was in the bathroom.”

“You should have said something. I was going to call the cops.”

1 minute. 

I looked outside, gave her two twenties, and said, “I think that’s my cab.”

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/108p4ce/my_first_time_in_a_bar