My senses were inflamed by the whiskey we'd shared and my blood was heated by the look in his eyes. We'd been hanging out at our neighborhood bar, playing games and laughing with the regulars; I'd worn a flowing top with a low, square neckline, jeans, and the boots he likes so much. My hair was loose and tousled, inviting his hands to run through it. Jack was looking especially good tonight, too, with his worn black jeans caressing every inch of his legs and showing off his magnificent ass. The hockey sweater hung off his broad shoulders and hid the firm torso that lurked under the soft fabric. My fingers knew the feel of his body and I was aching to touch him again.
As the hour grew later, the other patrons trickled out, leaving just me, my man, and the new bartender. Jack's hand was resting on my thigh under the table where we always sat, in the corner by a window. I tried to concentrate on the view of the restaurant across the street, feeling sorry for the smokers standing out in the light snow that fell from February skies. I knew that if I let myself think about what Jack was doing, I would loose control. Seeing that I was trying to ignore him, Jack shot a wicked grin over to the bartender and told him to look away, since he was about to prove that I could not ignore him any more. He started by lightly dragging his fingertip across the neckline of my shirt, just barely touching my skin; heat shot through me, making my breath catch and my quim throb. Still, I didn't acknowledge his touch, and just let him get on with his work, wondering what he'd do next. Of course, the bartender hadn't looked away, and since I hadn't visibly responded, Jack knew he'd have to up the ante so the guy didn't think he'd been bragging in vain.
Spurred on by male competitiveness, and reckless because of the liquor, Jack hooked his finger in the shoulder strap of my bra and the neck of my shirt and slid them off my right shoulder. When I turned my head to shoot a questioning look at him, he captured my gaze. I could see the challenge in his eyes as he slowly lowered his head to my shoulder, dropping feathery little kisses on the tender skin. Reflexively, my head rolled back and I arched my neck, purring just a little under my breath. As Jack's lips travelled up the side of my neck, and his hand returned to move up my thigh to my denim-covered crotch, the bartender quietly moved closer.
"Fuck, that's hot," he whispered, watching me open my thighs to give Jack full access. Knowing that he had won my complete attention and there would be no more pretending to ignore him, Jack removed his hand from my pussy and slid it behind my head to bring me in for a full, deep kiss. His other hand slipped the straps off my still-clothed shoulder and dipped inside my bra to caress my breast. As his rough palm stroked my oh-so-tender nipple, I knew that it was time for me to take charge of the situation.
Pulling free of Jack's grasp, I stood up abruptly and stared down at him. I could see the worry in his eyes -- he thought I'd be angry with him for pawing me in public this way. The bartender started backing away slowly, but stopped in his tracks when I dropped to my knees and put my hands to Jack's belt buckle. I quickly opened his belt and waistband, then slid down the zipper of his jeans and slipped my hand inside to find his beautiful cock, which was hard already, of course. Pulling his pants apart as far as possible, I dropped a quick kiss on the moist tip of his erection, causing him to jerk slightly, and evoking sighs of envy from the watcher.
