I tend bar in an upper middle-class lounge in the best neighborhood in the city. I've been a bartender for ten years and have worked in several bars but this one is the nicest by far. Tending bar isn't rocket science but I enjoy it. The hours are long but the work isn't difficult and I meet some nice people. Several months ago I met some of the nicest people yet. May I tell you about it?
Friday night is usually one of my best nights, but that particular night was slow because of the nasty weather. We had been hit by a string of vicious thunderstorms all day long and the gusting wind and torrential rain kept my bread-and-butter customers at home. Only a handful of customers had dropped in by ten o'clock and my tip bowl was looking mighty sick.
The waitresses had called it quits long ago. The joint was empty and I was giving serious consideration to locking up and heading home to snuggle up against my pretty wife in my warm bed. I figured the boss would never know the difference. "A game of Hide the Salami will really hit the spot," I thought. I didn't want to get soaked and was just waiting for a lull in the rain to make my getaway. Then, in the blinking neon light from the sign, I spotted two people running toward the door huddled under a raincoat. They laughed the way people laugh when they are made the butt of a joke, brushed themselves off, and hurried to the bar. I figured they were either an attractive middle-aged married couple out to have some fun or a boss trying to lay his secretary. What a hell of a night they picked!
As they ordered their drinks, I could tell by their slurred speech that my joint wasn't their first. They told me that they had been bar-hopping, looking for "some action". As I mixed their drinks, I fumed at being denied a few hours off. On the other hand, I soon discovered that my customers were good company. They asked me to join them in a drink, so I poured myself a shot of our best brandy.
They were soggy, so I dug around under the bar until I found a couple of towels for them to dry their hair with. With combed hair and fresh makeup, the babe looked pretty good. She wasn't gorgeous, but she was the kind of woman that no normal man would kick out of bed. The guy wasn't bad himself, but I didn't pay much attention to him. I was much more interested in his wife's cleavage.
We were all on friendly terms by the time we finished our drinks. They told me that they had come from The Swing, a notorious swinger club just down the road, and were very disappointed by the quality of the people they had found there. "Nothing but fat old ladies over there tonight," the man griped. "Yeah, and that bitch at the door wouldn't refund our money," the blond added. I had heard that The Swing charged couples fifty bucks admission, so could understand why they were pissed. I've never been there, but have heard stories about orgies. I would love to try it just once, but my wife isn't the swinging type.
The way the blond leered at me made me uneasy. Both of them were staring at my crotch. My uniform pants are tight and the slightest arousal shows. When I complained to my boss about it, she said it was that way on purpose. "The barmaids show their tits and the bartenders show their packages," was how she put it. They ordered fresh drinks but I took a rain check when they invited me to join them. I had a feeling that something good was going to happen to me, and I wanted to be in peak form in case it did. They were getting sloppy drunk and I should have cut them off, but things were getting very interesting so I served them another round. They were talking about sex and the people they had fucked or wanted to fuck and were purposely talking loud enough for me to hear every word they said. Blondie was openly flirting with me and her husband seemed to be encouraging her.
"I've noticed that you have very large hands," Blondie said. "I've heard that's a good indication of the size down below. You'll notice that my husband has small hands, and the rule certainly applies in his case." The husband laughed and interrupted her. He told her to stop beating around the bush and come right out with it. "I'll give you twenty bucks to show us your cock," he said, as he slapped a bill down on the bar.
By then, I had the start of a pretty decent boner, and its outline showed through the pants. I've got a wife and two kids to feed and clothe and will take any twenty that comes along. "Sure, I'll show you my cock," I said, slipping the bill into my pocket. It wasn't likely that anyone would come in at that hour in those conditions, but I decided to play it safe. I locked the door and closed the blinds, then stood in front of them, unzipped my fly, and lowered my pants a little to get my cock and balls out. They stared at my ten-inch pussy-pleaser with wide eyes. Blondie's eyes were kind of glazed over and she licked her lips constantly, sure signs that she was in heat.
Old Faithful was at half-mast with the foreskin still covering the flange of the head. "I'll give you another twenty to show it to us hard," the man said. If he was so determined to give me money, I figured I might just as well take it, and slipped another bill into my pocket. As I started masturbating, I was already planning ahead. I figured I might get another twenty for jerking off for them.
Within a couple of minutes, I had my pussy-pleaser hard enough to drive nails with. "My God, you're hung like a mule," Blondie said. Their wide eyes were burning holes in my cock. I lifted it and pressed it against my belly to show off my nuts. "That's a nice set of balls, too," the man added. I continued playing with my dick, hoping he wouldn't make me ask for more money to shoot a load. When no offers were forthcoming, I decided that I would just have to do it for free, and jacked my cock harder. "Wait until I get back," the woman said as she headed for the Ladies' Room, staggering and bumping into chairs.
