I thought I would try my hand at a short simple wham bam story. There's no character development, no plot to speak of and no profound insights regarding the human condition. There is some bondage, some creampie cuckoldry but mostly just fucking and sucking.
Everyone is over 18. It is set in a bar after all.
Helpful comments are always welcome. I have to admit my first though upon re-reading it was it was kind of boring. I'm curious as to what others think.
It seemed to fit best in the BDSM category.
I apologize for any typos that escaped my woefully inadequate proof-reading skills.
*****
Slowly but inexorably, silence filled the room. Patrons who happened to be sitting near the door, or who glanced up as the door opened, quieted first. By nudge and nod quiet leap-frogged its way throughout the long narrow room. The two men playing pool at the far end of the room were the last to notice, then they too stopped and stared.
Gus had spent every day, from 11:00 in the morning until 1:00 am the next morning, wiping down the bar and serving beer for more years than he cared to remember. He had grown up in the neighborhood, knew everyone, and had seen pretty much every sort of human fuckery under the sun. He had sent more than one hot head to the ER with a busted skull. Spotting the foursome in the doorway he felt no fear but he did rest a hand on one of three baseball bats he keep stashed along the underside of the bar. He was more curious than alarmed.
His curiosity did not extend to the two hulks who had stationed themselves on either side of the door. They were clearly the muscle, buzz cut, bull neck, tight sweater and loose jacket muscle. It was the couple standing between them that piqued one's interest.
The woman was tall, heels exaggerating her height. Her raven hair was swept back from her face. Beyond a bit of eye shadow and hooker red lipstick she wore no makeup. Her skirt matched her lipstick. Gus couldn't tell if it was leather but whatever the material was it was stretched tight. Her blouse was as black as her hair, or would have been if the material had more substance. The material was sheer, no doubt designed to be worn with a fancy bra. If so, the bra was missing.
Her breasts sat high and firm, hugging her chest in such a way that there was no doubt that they were all natural. Even in the dim light of the bar Gus could see the areolas were large and the nipples squat and pert. The woman radiated sex. Gus suspected every guy in the room was starting to sport wood. He knew he was.
The man was a little taller, slim and wearing an expensive looking black suit. Cuff links glittered at his wrist. A neatly cinched red silk tie provided a vibrant slash of color atop the white shirt. It wasn't the fact that the man was absurdly over dressed for a local dive like Gus's that attracted the crowd's attention. It was the black mask that cover his skull and eyes.
The woman was masked as well but far less dramatically. She wore a simple mask over her eyes. One she could have easily borrowed from the Lone Ranger. Her shrouded eyes swept over the room. The only sound was the whir of the overhead fans.
She turned to the man and with deft movements untied his tie and thumbed open the shirt collar. Under it, a black leather dog collar became visible. Without looking she held out her hand and the muscle to her right extracted a silver chain from his jacket pocket. Gus noted the shoulder harness nestled under the muscle's arm.
The woman let the long chain slide through her fingers, the rattle of the links echoing in the silent room. She clipped the chain in an eyelet on the man's collar. She held the chain up high, close to his neck. She turned and jerked on the chain, hard enough to pull the man off balance as he hurried to follow her.
Her heels made no sound on the dirty linoleum that served as the bar's floor. She walked purposefully toward the bar as if to order a drink. She stopped in front of one of Gus's regulars. A man in his early thirties. He was nursing a beer before heading home. He worked at a tire shop and had given up on trying to get the grime from under his nails around the time his wife left him. He wasn't a bad looking guy, not yet, but life was beginning to rub the shine off.
The woman stopped in front of him. He stared, seeing no reason not to. She smiled. He did not. Her smile broadened.
"Hi," she said in a clear voice. "I'm Sharon." She sounded as if she was welcoming him to a seminar on buying life insurance.
The man nodded. "Mike."
"Nice to meet you Mike." She replied in the same business like voice. Her left hand held the chain near the man in the suit's neck. Sharon nodded her head in his direction. "Mike this is my husband. You don't need to know his name. Would you hold him for me while I get myself a drink?"
With her right hand she held up the other end of the silver chain. Mike shrugged and took it. She didn't wait for an answer but finished turning toward the bar where Gus stood, flabbergasted for the first time in years.
"I'll have what Mike is having please."
Gus stirred himself enough to reach into the cooler beneath the bar. "PBR comin' right up." The fitz from opening of the bottle of beer was loud enough to filled the silence. "Glass?"
Sharon smiled. "No, the bottle is fine. Thanks for asking."
As she took the bottle from his hand Gus noticed that muscle number two had made his way from the door to the bar. He reached inside his jacket and placed a rather thick stack of bills on the top of the bar.
Sharon smiled at Gus. "Drinks for the house. Gus, is it? The sign says 'Gus's'. Are you Gus?"
"Yup. I'm Gus alright."
"Nice to meet you Gus. If we run short of funds please let Mr. Reed know." Gus assumed Reed was the man he thought of as Muscle number two. It was easy enough for everyone to hear the woman's offer of drinks but no one moved. Sharon put the bottle to her mouth, tilted her head back and drained nearly half of it before lowering the bottle.
She smiled at Mike. "Good choice Mike."
Mike shrugged.
Sharon sat the bottle down on the bar top and stepped closer to Mike. She slip one hand behind his head and pulled him forward. He did not resist when she kissed him. The room murmured. She kissed him for a long time, waiting for him to kiss her back. When he begin to return her kiss, her fingers clenched in Mike's hair, voicing her approval of his decision. Her other hand pressed against his chest. When she stepped back Mike's eyes darted to her husband. The husband watched. If he had feelings about his wife's actions he kept them hidden.
When Mike's eyes returned to her face Sharon smiled again. She put her hands behind Mike's elbows and urged him to stand. He slid off the stool and stood in front of her. She undid the half dozen buttons that held her top together, let it slip off her shoulders, folded in lengthwise and laid it atop the bar. She paused long enough to take a swallow of beer before turning back to Mike. His eyes were on her face. Sharon held the beer in her left hand. She lifted her breast with her right. She ran the beer bottle over her right nipple and shivered.
"Do you like my breasts Mike?"
He shrugged. "Sure."
Sharon pouted. "That's not much of an endorsement Mike. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?"
"No, ma'am."
Sharon giggled. "Ma'am? Jesus Mike I'm showing you my tits in a crowded bar. I'm not your third grade teacher. Call me Sharon. Please."
"Sure Sharon."
She kissed his cheek and looked at him, head tilted toward her left shoulder.
"Are you angry Mike?"
"No. I'm not angry but I don't like to be fucked with and it feels like that's what's happening here."
Sharon put a palm against his cheek and shook her head. "Oh no Mike, that's not what's happening at all. No one is fucking with you, not the way you mean anyway. I have needs Mike and I think you're cute and I think you can help me with my needs. That's as honest as I can be. No bullshit Mike."
Explanation finished, Sharon stepped closer to Mike. Her eyes and her hands dropped to his waist. She unbuckled his belt. He made no move to stop her. A fresh wave of murmuring wafted through the bar. Sharon's fingers opened the top of his pants and unzipped them. She pushed them down so that they rested halfway down his ass.
Mike wore plain white boxers. He got them three for five bucks. They had been clean when he put them on last night. He showered at night, after work. He's slept in these boxers and worked all day in them. Sharon did not seem to mind.
She squatted on her heels and pushed her face into his crouch. His half-hard cock twitched against her cheek. She audibly inhaled and sighed. She looked up at her husband who looked back with impassive eyes.
"I should make you get down here and smell Mike's crotch, so you'd know what a real man smells like. A real man smells like work and sweat not cologne and silk."
Mike glanced at the man but the man's eyes never left his wife's face.
Sharon's fingers probed inside the fly and pulled Mike's cock out. He was more than half hard now. She cooed over it, making much of its heft and size, before engulfing it with her mouth. Mike watched her husband and her husband watch Sharon start to suck Mike's cock in earnest.
