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Barfly

I fell in lust the first time I saw her.

She was sitting on that barstool, with her skirt stretched about as tight as it could go across her sweet little butt, looking for all the world like some kind of Hollywood starlet.

When I thought about it later, as we were balling our brains out in my big old bed, I remembered that I had actually seen her for the first time as she walked into the bar. That makes me a liar? Big deal! That time she was just a long pair of legs in a short skirt.

It wasn't until she sat down, and I watched that fabric stretching itself close to breaking point, that she became the object of my desire; the stuff of my dreams.

I grabbed my glass from the table and raised it to my lips, so that I could take a good look at her without it being too obvious. Was she built - or what!

Man - I was really juiced up! The sap was rising faster than a mountain stream at first thaw.

When she crossed one of those long sexy legs over the other, and I caught the whisper of nylon on nylon, I swear that I nearly swallowed a whole ice cube.

She raised her left arm and took a glance at her watch.

Shit! She was waiting for someone!

I prayed, silently, for him to have a fender bender. His fault? Sure! Lock him up! Throw away the key! Just don't let him find his way here - tonight.

She shucked off the jacket she was wearing; catching it with her right hand before it hit the floor. The movement caused her to turn in my direction forcing the swell of her beasts to press tightly against the thin silk of her blouse. No bra - I noted as I caught the generous outline of a thrusting nipple. Our eyes met. She smiled. My heart flipped as my breath hissed through my teeth. She was so fucking gorgeous! I had to have her!

She glanced at her watch again, before ordering another highball. Her face creased into a sulky, almost petulant frown, as she noted the time. It only served to make her more beautiful, more desirable, than she already was.

She took another quick glance in my direction. Rich auburn hair swinging across her shoulders. She raised her eyebrows, signifying her displeasure at being kept waiting. Maybe he wasn't going to make it after all! I smiled in mock sympathy. She noticed, and returned the favour.

I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to slowly undress her; to run my hands and lips over those wonderful breasts; to sink my teeth into the perfect globes of that beautiful tight arse.

To lay her gently, face down, onto the playing field that doubled as my bed and secure her wrists and ankles to the bedposts with the thick, black, silken cords that lay, in waiting, on my bedside table. To pick up my supple leather switch and, gently at first, then with increasing vigour, to lay down a series of beautiful red welts on the smooth, tight, skin of those succulent buns.

I imagined the thrill of watching her writhing and twisting in an ecstasy of pleasure and pain as the leather bit into her flawless skin. Then, just when I sensed that she could take no more; to play my trump card; lay down my four aces, as it were; hit the spittoon from twelve paces!

Taking the bottle of soothing herbal oils that sat on the same table, I would gently rub the embrocation into her glowing flesh. With long flowing strokes, I would take away the pain and replace with the sensual cooling touch of my hands.

I would watch as the twin halves of her peach started to push upwards to receive my soothing touch. A little more oil? - Why the hell not! This time, I think, dribbled into the cleft. My fingers would then trace the same oily path as they delved deeper between those luscious round cheeks. I would hear her gasp as they finally made contact with that sexy little button, and she started to buck, like a bronco with a burr under its saddle.

Then would come her compliance, her acceptance. I would undo the restraints and gently roll her onto her back. Soon, her arms would reach down and grasp my hair, my shoulders, even my ears, as I lowered my face between her silky thighs and buried my tongue into that other cleft. I knew, from experience, that she would try anything to pull me deeper into her hot little box. They were all the same, these casual pick-ups. The more unapproachable they seemed, the hotter they would turn out to be, when I got them into the sack.

God! - I felt so horny that I could almost taste her. Under cover of the table, I placed one hand over the crotch of my wranglers and squeezed. If I didn't get to her soon, I was going to have to go to the restroom and relieve myself.

Glancing up, I watched her take a final look at her watch as she started to reach for her jacket. It was now or never!

I stood up and walked over to her.

'On your own?' I asked. Not very original, I'll agree. Enough to get a conversation started though.

'Sure looks that way!'

'Another drink?' I pointed at her empty glass.

'Why not!' she agreed, holding her hand out towards me. 'The name's Sherry by the way.'

'Samantha,' I replied, and taking her hand, gave it a long gentle squeeze as our eyes met.

We held our gaze.

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