burnrich79

[burnrich79]

[burnrich79]

The Bartender

I was in this small town outside Boston, crashing at my sister's place after a messy breakup. She's seven years older than me, a bit strait-laced, so she doesn't know half the shit I get into. Anyway, I needed a night out, a night to feel alive again, to feel desired, to feel like P, not the heartbroken shadow of myself. So, I headed to the local pub, which had the charm of a dive bar but the energy of a spot where anything could happen.

I walked in, alone, wearing this tight little black dress that said 'I'm here to fuck', even if I wasn't sure that was the plan. My hair was down, wild, and my heels clicked against the floor with a confidence I was faking at first. But then, the looks started coming in, and that confidence? It turned real fast.

Men approached me like moths to a damn flame. First was Mike, a guy I'd fucked before, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. "P, looking good," he said, his hand on my back, sliding down. I let it linger for a moment before stepping away. "Not tonight, Mike."

Next was a group of college guys, probably thinking they'd hit the jackpot. One of them, with a boyish grin, offered to buy me a drink. I took it, flirting enough to keep them entertained but not enough to commit. I was in a teasing mood, not a fucking one.

But then there was this bartender, Jake, with tattoos peeking out from his sleeves, a scruffy beard, and eyes that saw right through my bullshit. He had that bad boy bartender vibe that always gets me going. Every time he served me, our fingers brushed, electric. 

The night wore on, the pub filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmur of potential. The crowd thinned out, and soon it was just me and a few stragglers. Jake started cleaning up, his movements familiar, sexy even. 

"Last call, sweetheart," Jake said, his voice low, like he was speaking just for me. I leaned over the bar, my dress riding up just enough to tease. "What if I don't want to leave?"

He smirked, wiping down the bar, "Then I guess you stick around for special service."

The last patrons left, the door locked behind them. Jake turned the music down but left it on, a slow, seductive beat that matched the pulsing between my legs. He walked over, standing close, his body heat warming me.

"What's the special service?" I asked, my voice dripping with challenge.

Jake didn't answer with words. He reached across the bar, pulling me closer until our lips were inches apart. "You want to find out?" 

"Yes," I breathed out.

He lifted me onto the bar, the cold wood against my ass a sharp contrast to the heat building inside me. My dress bunched up, exposing my thighs, my black thong barely covering anything. Jake kissed me, his tongue pushing past my lips, claiming my mouth with a hunger that matched mine.

His hands roamed, one sliding up my thigh, the other under my dress to my breasts. I moaned into his mouth, my hands undoing his pants, finding him hard and ready. "You always this eager?" I teased, stroking him, feeling his thickness.

"Only for you," he growled back, his fingers now inside my panties, finding me wet, ready. 

Jake didn't waste time. He pushed my panties aside, his cock at my entrance. "Here?" I asked, a thrill running through me.

"Here," he confirmed, and with one thrust, he entered me, the bar top becoming our bed for the night. 

The position was fucking wild, me on my back on the bar, Jake standing, his hands on my hips, pulling me into him with each thrust. The bar creaked with our movements, every thrust echoing in the quiet room. I was loud, unapologetically so, my cries mixing with the low music, creating our own private soundtrack.

"You like being fucked on this bar, don't you?" Jake's dirty talk was spot on, fueling my desire.

"Yes, fuck yes," I gasped, my legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper.

Jake was relentless, his cock hitting all the right spots, my back sliding against the bar, my hands gripping the edge for leverage. When I came, it was with a scream that would have made anyone outside think the place was haunted.

He followed soon after, pulling out just in time to finish on my stomach, marking me with his cum. Breathing heavily, he leaned down to kiss me, our foreheads touching. 

That night on the bar top with Jake was a reclaiming of sorts. I wasn't the heartbroken girl anymore; I was P, the woman who knew what she wanted and took it. It was slutty, it was wild, and it was exactly what I needed. My sister would never understand, but then again, she doesn't have to. This was for me, a chapter of liberation, of reclaiming my sexuality after giving it away in a relationship that didn't last. And fuck, did it feel good.

[burnrich79]

🇨🇺