I'd just been ass fucked by Peter in the disabled toilet of a pub. He left me dishevelled, throbbing, wet and breathless to go and get us more beer. He'd told me I was in for a long night. To quote, he told me my "snatch and ass are going to be bruised and battered." I suspected my mouth and face were going to get a working over too.
I could have walked out then. I had my handbag with me and the back exit was just a few steps away. But I started getting wet again thinking of half the stuff he'd said to me. There was no way I was going anywhere. I did, however, decide to cut back on drinks and make sure it didn't turn into a drunken escapade where anything seemed like a good idea.
So I fixed myself up. Gave my pussy and face a spritz of water, wet some paper towel and gave my ass a dabbing, straightened my clothes and reapplied my lipstick. I left the room semi-respectable. The couple sitting at table near the exit didn't agree though and gave me a judgemental look. They'd obviously heard everything. Instead of being embarrassed, I took a leaf from Peter's book and winked at the woman as I walked by. Fuck them.
Peter was playing a game of pool with a guy when I got back. I assumed he just got bored and it was some random pub guy, but he introduced us as I came over. "This is a mate of mine, Paul."
"Really?" I asked. "Two more mates and we've got a band." They both laughed and Paul shook my hand. I suspected Peter had told him what had just happened since he looked directly at my tits and held my hand a bit longer than necessary. We all clinked our beers and the game resumed.
As they played, I sat on a stool and tried to ignore my throbbing ass and twitching pussy. There's no way I'm sleeping with both of them, I thought.
Lost in horny thoughts of what I was determined to avoid, Peter came over to put the cue in my hand and tell me it was my turn to play Paul. "Oh right. We can always play as a three if we rotate turns." I said helpfully. Of course I was referring to the pool game, but Peter roared with laughter and then whispered in my ear, "that's precisely the plan." Hard to believe after the toilet fuckery, but I blushed then and my eyes went straight to Paul's.
I lost the game. Really badly and quickly. I was nervous and excited and couldn't concentrate. This didn't go unnoticed. Peter made a point of embracing me after the particularly bad shots, he hand wandering to my ass and the side of my breasts a few times. He also kissed me loudly and openly at the bar and I was too horny to resist.
Paul watched us closely and always stood opposite my shots, openly staring down my top. A couple of times, he stood behind me, very close, his hip touching mine. Every person in the pub could see what was happening. Where this was going. I felt slutty and loved it.
This was not my neighbourhood, so I had no worries of seeing someone I knew. And it was a hugely empowering and sensual feeling to have all eyes following me and imagining what would be done to me in a couple of hours. There was no room to feel nervous about how this was going to play out.
Hell, I felt so good I could have fucked the whole pub on the pool table. I think I even whispered as much to Peter, who could only smile in arrogant triumph. But by the time we were heading to the car in the cool evening air, my confidence faltered and I started to feel unsure.
Reading the situation like an expert, Peter sat me in the back with my thoughts, somehow sensing I needed to have this mental argument without his persuasion.
He talked about the barbeque he was going to cook us and how delicious the steak was going to taste. How he liked it rare and moist, and basted in its own juice. Paul said he preferred it firm and cooked, and to add his own sauce for taste. I was rolling my eyes so hard at the entendres that I was making myself dizzy.
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Paul worked the barbeque on the patio, while I chopped salad, with Peter moving between us. I turned down wine and asked for water. Peter shrugged (looked at me a bit questioningly) but gave it to me.
