The Appeal of Dive Bars
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The entrance to the bar was just below the street, and accessed from a stairway descending from the sidewalk. Only a small neon sign and its arrow pointing below the surface gave any hint that the establishment itself actually existed. David checked his phone for the time; he had arranged to meet Dallas approximately fifteen minutes from now, at 7 PM in the evening, for an after-dinner drink or two. He descended the stairs to the landing, a four-foot square section of cement. Pushing through the door, the myriad scents that permeated the bar assaulted his nostrils – spilled beer, greasy food, and the stale sweat of too many people in too small an area. David paused while his eyes adjusted to the dim light, and then he began to look for a good spot. Fortunately, the hour was somewhat early, and there were several open tables near the rear. David smiled – something away from the main traffic of his fellow humanity suited his purposes admirably.
Stopping at the bar long enough to get a glass of soda water for himself and an Amstel for Dallas, he strode swiftly to the table he desired and claimed it. It was a small square table in a corner, with two chairs and a padded bench that provided half the seating. David sat in one of the chairs, half turning it so that he could keep a weather eye on the entrance waiting with a barely-concealed impatience. He had not had long to wait before Dallas came through the door. She looked around, and his heart leaped when she saw him and her face lit up with a smile. She headed slowly towards him, aware of his eyes on her, taking in every detail. She always enjoyed how he looked at her, a combination of approval and hunger in his eye as his gaze lingered in his review of her.
She had come to the bar from the facility where she worked as a Hospitality Manager for the local Doubletree; professionally dressed in a modest skirt and matching blazer, her white blouse almost shining like a beacon in the smoke-filled twilight lighting. Her short back-streaked pale blond hair framed her face perfectly, and he longed to pendik escort run his fingers through her hair as he claimed her lips with his own. He loved the feeling of her silken tresses, and he loved running his fingers close to her scalp, sometimes tightening his fingers to pull her hair. He loved how she gasped when he did that; she liked being claimed, although she was a trifle shy about expressing it in public.
David was slowly working on changing that, on identifying her desires and her contradictory limits, and gently – oh so gently! – pushing her past them. She had the security of her safe word if he pushed too far, too fast; he wanted her thrilled at walking the edges of her comfort zones, not the terror of being pushed past them with no secure tether. He smiled briefly how he had introduced her to anal foreplay – first a shower, to reassure her that she was clean, and then glorious exploration of her pussy with his fingers and a small vibrating wand. He had turned her onto her tummy, and continued, one hand running over the cheeks of her ass, the other using the vibrator to stimulate her pussy. As she had approached orgasm, he had begun kissing her up and down her ass-crack, and as she had begun to cum, he had licked and teased the rosebud of her ass with his tongue. She had experienced a glorious orgasm, well-begun. He would count it as a victory when she asked him to kiss her ass while being fingered. But that was in the future; he had a different goal tonight.
He stood when she reached the table, and let her determine the depth of their welcoming kiss; it was too short but full of promise, her tongue caressing his lip as she pulled away and sat down on the bench next to his chair. He sat again, taking her hands in his and kissing her knuckles.
“How was work today, Dallas?” he asked.
“Good, good… well, good enough. My VP was lurking around, so not as much fun as it might have been…” she replied.
“He’s a right lurker, then?” David replied, putting on a cheesy Monty Python-esque British Cockney accent.
“Something maltepe escort like that…” she replied.
“I am glad that you agreed to meet me here” David continued. “And suggested the bar. I would never have come here, myself – given that I don’t drink.”
“I like places like this!” Dallas said. “Dive bars are cool, ‘ cause there are unique and interesting people to watch in there. It’s like having a fishbowl, only with humans instead of fish.”
“And you like to watch?” David asked playfully.
Dallas blushed, and dropped her gaze. “You know I do.”
David smiled. He loved making her blush. He lowered his voice, pitched so only she could hear him over the ambient noise of the bar. “I know you liked watching me stroke my cock while you watched. I know you enjoyed laying back and spreading your legs so I could run the shaft of my cock through your pussy lips and over your clit… I know you liked it when your orgasm caused me to cum all over your belly. I know you like evidence of how desirable you are, and how crazy you drive me… is that not so?”
Dallas looked up to shamelessly meet his gaze. “Yes.”
“And are you excited now?”
“May I check for myself?”
Dallas didn’t answer directly, but dropped her gaze and moved closer along the bench, spreading her legs slightly.
David’s arm dropped lower than the table as he re-arranged himself so that his body would obscure any direct observation of what he was doing. His fingers started at her inner knee, and slowly, tantalizingly delved their way up her thigh to the lace-covered juncture. He could feel the heat from her arousal, and when his fingers tentatively touched the silken gusset panel, he could determine that her pussy was quite wet. Ignoring her gasp as his fingers made contact, he slipped his fingers under her lace panties. His fingers began to move up and in and around her clitoris, while he captured her eyes with his.
“I love touching you like this,” he said.
“I… enjoy it as well” Dallas admitted, kartal escort smiling.
“Don’t worry… nobody can see anything we don’t want them to see” David reassured. “Nobody from the bar will know anything untoward is going on. Nobody will see and complain; prudes and their ilk don’t come to dive bars. At the worst, some other guy might be watching, and wishing he was me. Wishing it was his fingers under your panties… wishing it was his fingers stroking your silky intimate flesh… knowing he’ll play back those memories later, when he has the privacy to toss himself off… all the while, visualizing you, and how beautiful you looked when you came all over my fingers.” He could feel Dallas’ excitement grow as he spoke to her; he knew by the involuntary movements of her pussy that she was building to an orgasm.
“Will you cum for me, Dallas?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Oh yes… I want you to cum hard for me. I want you to give me evidence of hot inner slut. The idea excites me… excites me so much that I might cum myself when I feel you squeeze my fingers in that most intimate of ways. Will you? Please? Please cum for me… my angel of sin. My sweet slut. Show me how hot and beautiful you are.”
David continued whispering such encouragement just loud enough for her to hear, and continued to stroke her, sliding two, and then three, fingers as deep inside her as he could, stroking across her clit on the up- and down-strokes. he could feel her building, inexorably building, reaching her peak. When she was about to crest, she leaned forward and pulled his mouth to hers. She orgasmed and let their deep kiss swallow her moans, Finally, she relaxed, and leaned away, slumping against the back cushion of the bench.
“Wow. That was some kiss,” she mumbled weakly, smiling at David and taking a long sip of her drink.
“Yeah, that was extraordinary. Magnificent. We’ll have to come here more often” replied David cheerfully. “Utterly… magnificent.”
“Yes, I’ll definitely have to come here again. But not tonight. Tonight, you’re taking me out to dinner.”
“Oh, you KNOW you are. And then home… for dessert,” she concluded, her tone of voice leaving no question as to what she meant to have for dessert.
Anything she wanted. Anything at all.
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