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That Kind Of Girl…Who Gets Off In A Crowded Bar

February 25, 2010

The scene: a sleek downtown lounge, the kind with low lighting, loud music, and pretty people drinking pricey cocktails. Normally I’m more of a dive bar kind of girl, but I can occasionally be found in the city’s classier establishments, usually in the company of my gentleman friend, Christian.

That night I was wearing my favorite black suede over-the-knee boots and a silky dark blue dress, the kind that’s tight in all the right places. We were tucked away in a booth along with two other friends. When they stepped over to the crowded bar to get us all another round, our conversation quickly turned dirty – namely, about what I could possibly be wearing underneath that dress.

“What would it take for you to take off your panties and give them to me under the table?” he asked.

Done and done, I thought. Except that I wasn’t wearing any.

“You little slut. Prove it.”

I slid my thighs open slightly, intending to just give him a quick peek. But that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, and quickly reached between them with one hand and getting an iron grip on my knee with another, forcing my legs halfway open. Fortunately, a long tablecloth kept us from being completely obscene, but I’m sure it was clear to anyone watching that we weren’t simply having an intimate conversation.

Something you should know about me is that I can go from zero to sixty in about thirty seconds – it wasn’t long before I was soaking wet and close to the point of no return, my pussy clenching around Christian’s expert fingers. I was gripping the edge of the leather bench as I buried my face in his shoulder to muffle my moans when he used his spare hand (I had quickly given up resisting his touch) to reach into his drink and grab a cube of ice, shoving it in my pussy right as I came.

Goddamn.

The combination of exquisite pleasure and searing cold was like a delicious, shivery electric shock. Christian covered my mouth with his as I arched my back, swallowing my screams and making us look like any other couple there on a date.

Just then our friends returned with the drinks – and an extra flute of champagne, compliments of the bartender. I looked over and realized that one of the bartenders had a nearly perfect view of my face for the past ten minutes – she might not have been able to see what was going on under the table, but she understood – and winked at me. I smiled at her and raised my glass, toasting the start of what was to become an even more interesting night.

To be continued…

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16 comments

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