Baseball cap pulled down low, yellow-tinted aviators covering my blue eyes. A couple days stubble on my tanned face. Light brown henley pullover and well-worn, button-fly Levi's with hiking boots. I climb down from my 4x4 Dodge Ram and go inside the small roadside bar in western Montana. I get a couple looks from the locals as I sit down at the bar and order a beer.
I've nearly finished my beer when a brunette from the end of the bar walks down and offers to buy me another. I look her over - she's a lot of woman to look over - smile and tell her sure thing. She spills onto the barstool beside me as I tip back the last of my first beer. Her ample tits spilling out of her shirt as she makes herself comfortable beside me. I make small talk with her as I casually look at the others in the bar.
I wonder how many of them see me here as I am but would be surprised to know that I'm sitting here without underwear, my soft cock just hanging loosely against my sack. Or that a friend had shaved my cock and balls bald last night. Or that the nipple clamps were so tight that tiny teeth marks still show on my raw nipples. And that every time I move, I can feel my shirt rubbing them and keeping them hard. I'm guessing, in a bar like this, every damn one of them! I smile to myself though the brunette thinks it is because of something she said.
As I finish my beer, she knows she has to offer me another or walk away ... so reluctantly, she walks back to her friend at the end of the bar. I order another beer and a shot. A couple minutes later, an old cowboy sits down where the brunette had been. He motions to the bartender and a tall glass of whiskey is placed before him. "Smart boy, Lulu chats every new guy that walks into the bar. I'm Sonny, by the way." I had noticed Sonny sitting with another old cowboy at a table near the window. And I'm not exaggerating when I say cowboy. Six foot two wearing boots and old Wranglers with a worn collared shirt and wide-brimmed cowboy hat - every inch a cowboy, but pretty common for these parts.
We started talking about politics and blonde and redhead chicks. He told me a story about an old dog he'd had and asked about my Ram truck, being a Ford man himself. An hour passed along with two more rounds though I switched to whiskey to join him on the latter. As the glasses neared the bottom, Sonny leaned over and said in a lower-than-normal voice "I've got a good bottle of whiskey at home ... if you'd care to share it." I really didn't have to think about it but I let the offer lay there for a couple beats before nodding my acceptance. "Why don't you let me leave first and I'll wait for you at the corner. I don't want any of these knuckleheads to get any weird ideas if we leave together." This bar has a bit of a reputation, which is why I was there, so I figured at least half the people in the bar already knew what was going to happen. But I just nodded again.
At some point during my chat with Sonny, a tall redhead walked into the bar and ordered herself a drink before sitting off to the side of the room. Dressed like a local, she really didn't draw any specific looks from the bar as she did. I glanced her direction so she knew I saw her, but that was all there was to it.
I did as Sonny asked and waited five minutes before finishing my drink and paying my tab. Slipping my aviators back on as I walked into the bright sunlight of the afternoon, I could see a blue Ford pick-up idling near the corner. I climbed in my truck and followed a couple miles to his house on the edge of town. I parked on the street and met Sonny on the porch. We walked right inside, no locks needed in this part of the country. He tossed his hat on the table as he passed. "You want that whiskey, Eric? Or prefer a cold beer?" I looked around at his well-lived home as he moved to the kitchen.
"Honestly Sonny, I'd like a cold beer. If it's not an insult or anything." I paused to look at a faded image of Sonny and I assumed his wife. I put down a small backpack next to the picture.
"Shit no, Eric. I figured you preferred a beer." Seeing me at the picture, "I've been a widower seven years. She was mighty special." He handed me a cold Bud Light and clinked it against his glass of whiskey. We both knew the offer of the whiskey was the pretense and I had someone waiting for me at home. As Sonny lifted his glass to his lips, I reached out and paused with my hand inches from his buckle. If I was wrong, I was about to get slugged. Sonny just kept drinking and I unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zipper. I took another drink from my beer then set it down. We were in an area that really couldn't be seen from the outside. I reached into his briefs and wrapped my hands around his cock.
