A few weeks ago I received an email from a reader. She asked why so many of my stories seem to involve bars, blowjobs, and redheads.
"Blow jobs" is easiest to justify. I love them. An ugly woman becomes pretty when she's sucking my cock. I'm old and as I look back on my life I tend to remember the blowjobs more than anything else. I think most guys, if they were honest, would say the same thing. I've heard guys say they got divorced or cheated because their wives wouldn't suck them. I've yet to hear a guy say he divorced his wife because all she wanted to do was suck his cock.
My fascination with women with red hair is pretty simple as well. In my sexual experience that extends back over a half century, I have found women with true red hair to be the most passionate and hungriest above all others as a group. Yes there have been outliers, but I profile based upon experience.
As for bars; as I aged, I found bars to be places to congregate and converse, but in my youth I learned there was truth to the old maxim "Candy's Dandy but Liquor is Quicker." I could leave it there but that wouldn't make for much of a story would it? This story will be centered on my love of bars and blowjobs. It is true and accurate with the exception of some names. I have another story partially finished about red-heads. I hope you like this enough to read "Red" which I'll finish soon.
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I grew up in a rural area of New York that bordered New Jersey. At the time, the drinking age in NY was eighteen and in NJ was twenty-one. On weekends, and especially during college breaks, the local bars were flooded with young men and women from Jersey. One such place was a small tavern that my father and his friends often frequented for lunch. They served good burgers and their fries tasted better than any I've had since. I occasionally met my dad and his pals there for lunch after I had my own car. My high school was only a couple of miles away and this fare certainly beat out that of the school cafeteria. Since my Dad and his friends were regulars, John who was the owner, would often come to the table and make sure everyone was happy.
My eighteenth birthday came in the winter when all the college kids were home for break. A few of my older buddies decided to meet at this tavern and check out the action. We stood in line to get carded. John was working the door. He recognized me and looked at my drivers license. My buddies went in and he pulled me aside to ask if my dad knew I was there. I told him he did and had just given me a warning about drinking in moderation.
"Look; I'm short a bartender tonight and it looks like it's going to be busy." He asked if I had any experience and I told him I sometimes mixed drinks for my father and mother and usually tended the beer tap for our annual family picnics. He said he'd pay me $5.00 an hour cash and of course I'd split tips with Billy for the time I was working. $5.00 was twice what I made working for Mr. Waldner at the local drugstore after school. I jumped at the chance. My car was a gas hungry '59 Pontiac with a big 389 cubic inch engine. John also told me that I could drink one beer per hour on the house. Billy threw me a bar apron and showed how to tie it properly.
My mixed drink experience was very limited. My Mom liked Tom Collins' and my Dad liked Manhattans or Martinis. These kids hit me with requests for Sloe Gin Fizzes, Singapore Slings, etc. Billy helped me through it. I went on shift at about eight, after telling my buddies the deal. They understood and just cruised. At about nine, a pretty young girl walked in and took a seat at my end. She had strawberry blond hair but was kind of skinny with what looked to be a pretty flat chest. She ordered a Sling and was pleased to see that I knew how to make it.
We chatted a bit during the lulls and I learned that she was a little more than a year older than me and a freshman in college. Her name was Deb. A bunch of guys, my friends included, came on to her and offered to buy her drinks. She turned them all down and smiled at me every time. John cut me at eleven when things started to slow down. He split the tip jar, took cash out of the drawer, and handed me sixty dollars! At five dollars a fill up that was twelve tanks of gas!
I stripped off my apron, thanked John, and sat next to Deb. John treated us both to drinks and asked if I wanted to do it again next Friday. Of course I agreed. Deb swiveled to face me. When her calf touched mine she didn't flinch but began to slide it up and down. We discussed her college and such as her moving leg on mine began to make me hard. Finally she asked me if I was still a virgin. I blushed and admitted ashamedly that I was. "I have two questions for you. Would you like to correct that condition and do you know a quiet and secluded place we could go?" I croaked yes to both.
We left and walked to my car. I held the door for her, she got in sideways, and reached out and stroked my growing hard-on for a second or three before facing forward. I went around to my side and got in. She was sitting right in the middle of the wide bench seat and her hand once again found my crotch as I started the car and left the parking lot. "Feels to me like your hiding something in there," she said as she unzipped my fly and snaked her hand in. "And no one has had the pleasure of this beauty before?" I assured her they hadn't.
I pulled into a remote place that I had been to before with my girlfriend for some serious necking. I reached for Deb and we kissed while my hand groped for her tiny tits. He bra was pretty padded and I really couldn't feel a thing until she reached behind her and undid the catch. I slid my hands under her loose bra and could feel nipples harden under my palms for the first time. I loved the sensation and still do.
She guided one of my hands down and under her skirt until I was pressing against her vulva. She directed me to the motion she liked and then guided my fingers up to the top of her panties. I got the message and pulled them down as she arched her back and lifted her hips. She undid the clasp and zipper on her skirt and yanked them off before stripping off her blouse and bra. I had a totally naked girl sitting next to me for the first time in my life. My cock was raging.
"Your turn," was all she said as she unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off before she finished removing my pants and briefs. Apparently she liked what she saw as she smiled again and bent down to kiss my cock. "I think we'll have a better time in the back seat.." We slid to the back and she laid there with her legs spread. "I kissed yours. How about kissing mine?" I numbly complied and as she spread her labia I kissed the inside of her slit. I had no idea what I was doing but she certainly seemed to enjoy it and so did I. The taste was more intoxicating than the four beers I had consumed.
"Now see if you can fit that big thing in there!" I moved up and she guided me in. I came almost immediately and she seemed to have a similar experience. I didn't want to pull out and just held her tightly and told her how good that had felt. She took my left hand and placed it on her right tit. I could feel not just the nipple react but her entire body. My cock grew inside her. "Good boy. Now this time take it slower." I did as she asked and gave her long slow strokes for about fifteen minutes. She began to pick up the pace. It didn't take long before she was thrusting up hard and I was doing the same thing down. Soon her body started to quiver and I could feel her tighten around me. I was actually afraid she was having a convulsion but she felt so good that I came again.
"Your going to make a great bartender!" She took out a hanky, cleaned us both up, and told me she had to get going home. We dressed and she sat close all the way back to the bar parking lot. I walked her to her car and held the door for her. She tilted her head back for a kiss and I eagerly complied. Before I closed the door I said I was sorry I didn't have protection. She laughed, told me we were in her safe zone, told me I had serious "pussy breath," and that she hoped to see me again soon.
I was numb. When I arrived home my father was waiting for me. My shirt was buttoned crooked, my fly was unzipped, and I'm sure I had a strange look on my face. "John called me and told me you were working." I nodded a yes. "Looks like you had some significant after-hour activity as well!" I thought he would be pissed but my straight laced father smiled. "Did you take precautions?" I told him she assured me that she was be in her safe zone.
"Never trust that son. Young women's schedules are very unpredictable. In the future use protection. He turned to leave. And two more things; always leave your partner happy, and take a shower when you get home. You reek of sex and your mother, after all these years, is certain to recognize the scent." I couldn't believe my strict father had changed so much on my birthday.
The next day I worked in the morning at the drug store. At the end of my shift I bought a box of a dozen Trojans. Mr. Waldner saw me and just said, "Better safe than sorry!" I did some chores at home and after dinner left to meet my buddies and do some bar-hopping. It felt good to have some cash in my pocket and I bought the first round. I had witnessed enough guys last night to know that getting drunk would not get you laid so I took it slow. All the girls seemed to be with dates and we could barely find any to even dance with. At about eleven I called it quits and went back to my car in the tavern's parking lot.