I cursed as the engine in my car kept cutting out on the quiet, dark road. I hadn’t a clue where I was. I had visited a new friend and had got lost after setting out for home. It was a part of the city I had never been in before, and had a very run-down and threatening feel to it. I had been sure I had enough gas to get home, and of course, sod’s law applied. I had left my mobile phone at home on the charger.
It was after midnight, and the streets were deserted. Any shops, which weren’t boarded–up, were closed. Just as I saw a pub sign ahead of me, the engine finally died and the car rolled to a stop outside the dingy pub. It looked badly in need of a paint-job, but at least they would have a phone and I could get some help, and maybe even some gas.
As I got out of the car, I smoothed down my short denim skirt and pulled my pink boob tube away from where it clung to nipples which had responded to the cool air. I suddenly wished that in this dubious-looking area, I was wearing something less revealing, but it had been such a hot day. At twenty-seven, my firm breasts were still in good enough shape to allow me to go bra-less, and the very short skirt showed off my long legs to advantage.
I enjoyed the cool night air wafting over my bare legs and tummy. Thankfully, my long auburn hair was tied up, and the cool breeze caressed my neck and shoulders. My high heels clicked in the silence as I crossed the road to the pub. With any luck, the breakdown service could be here soon, and I would be back at my flat within the hour and ready for a nice cool shower.
I pulled open the door and walked inside. The bar area was cramped and grimy. The barman was slowly polishing glasses and he looked up in surprise at my appearance. To my right at a small table, two young men were drinking beer. On the other side, two more were playing pool. There were no women to be seen. I let the door close and walked towards the bar. I was very aware that the conversations had stopped, and felt eyes boring into me, no doubt stripping me naked – not that there was much to strip.
There was the sharp sound of a pool cue on a ball, then silence. I looked around at all the staring faces and became extremely aware of how I must look, in my rather sluttish get-up. Although I was an exhibitionist and enjoyed attention, I suddenly became nervous under the silent scrutiny.
When I reached the bar, a couple of long, drawn out wolf whistles broke the silence. Then I heard muttered comments.
“Sweet.”
“Nice legs.”
“I could give her one.”
I felt my face redden, but I focussed on the man behind the bar. “Excuse me, my car ran out of gas just outside. Is there...?”
A burst of male laughter startled me into silence.
“Oooh, gas, excuse me. What is the bitch doing in here? Does she think this is a filling station?” was one man’s idea of humour.
“No, I reckon she is on the game,” another wit called out, “How much for a blow-job, love?”
Those were the more polite comments I heard as the two who had been playing pool put down their cues and walked slowly over to me. I glanced around nervously as a rough hand brushed my bare shoulders.
“We ain’t got gas here, sweetheart, we only got booze,” laughed one. “Fancy a drink, pretty? I’m Billy.”
He was taller than the five feet ten inches I can claim in my stilettos. His dark hair was curly and he had the build of a labourer. I tried not to look at the muscles rippling on his arms and his chest, revealed by the sleeveless T-shirt. He looked no more than eighteen or nineteen, and in an attempt at bravado, I replied, “Are you sure you are old enough to be drinking?” Although I cringed as soon as I had said it; Christ, was I not in enough trouble?
He ignored my question.
“I like cheeky sluts, they’re not so mouthy when they’re sucking my dick.” He sneered challengingly. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“She can’t be or you would have fucked her by now, Billy,” chortled the other pool player, who was around his friend’s age. Although not as tall as him, he also had a muscular build, and his long blonde hair looked in need of a wash.
“I’m from the other end of town,” I replied nervously, glancing quickly around me.
I turned again to the barman who was still polishing the glasses.
“Look, could I use...?" Again I was interrupted, this time by the touch of a calloused hand on my thigh and before I could react, Billy’s rough fingers slid under the hem of my skirt and caressed the cheek of my ass where it was exposed by my skimpy thong. I spun round and brushed his hand away.
“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” I demanded, but my anger was tinged with apprehension.
The man behind the bar remained silent, and Billy just grinned.
“Ohh, steady guys, this one is trouble,” called another youth who had come up behind me.
There was laughter again. I was surrounded by three mean looking guys, who were not afraid to grope me. What would they try next? Despite my concern, I was amazed to feel a glow of arousal in my stomach; then a distant but pleasurable memory flickered at the back of my mind. When I was at college, I had got involved in a drinking session with three male students in my room. Somehow or other, I had agreed to play a form of strip poker. I was glorying in the attention and didn’t have a steady boyfriend at the time. To cut to the chase, I ended up being fucked by all of them, and thoroughly enjoying it.
“Look, can you help me please?” I almost shouted at the barman.
He put down the glass he was polishing and without replying, sauntered over to the pub entrance, locked the door, and handed the key to Billy.
“Right, that’s my shift over, I’m off; I’ll let myself out the back door. Make sure that your pals pay for their drinks and be sure to lock-up and set the alarm when you leave. Have fun, but play nice lads, play nice.”
While I stood with my mouth open in amazement, he disappeared through another door. His words, “have fun,”, seemed to echo in my ears as I became increasingly anxious.
“Okay, thanks for nothing,” I said, trying to sound unconcerned. “Just open that door please, and I’ll go.”
“Now then,” said Billy. “We can’t let a hotty like you wandering around this neighbourhood alone, can we Tim?” he said to the one who had touched me up.
“Definitely not,” Tim grinned. “Why, she might get raped or something. We wouldn’t want that to happen would we?” To giggles from the others. He smiled charmingly at me, “Relax and have a drink with us, and then you can use the phone.”
With mock courtesy, he named his companions: the blonde one was Tim and the other two youths were Jim and Bob. My brain was spinning as I tried to think of my best option. Fighting them for the key would be futile. Perhaps I could charm my way out of this.
“Fine, I’m Jill, but just the one drink. My boyfriend will be getting worried,” I lied.
I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time, and in fact, I hadn’t had a fuck for a while. I lifted the large gin and tonic Billy poured for me and took a gulp to settle my nerves.
“Do you play pool, Jill?” Tim asked.
“Not very well, I’m afraid.”
“Come on then I’ll play you. I’ll give you three balls start, but if I win I get a kiss, Okay?”
I nodded mutely. Fuck, I thought; I was not appropriately dressed for sprawling over a pool table, and they knew that of course. Still I had to make the best of it; perhaps they would be satisfied with some good views of my ass with a few kisses and gropes. I walked slowly over to the table and took a cue.
“You can break,” Tim smiled as the others gathered round to enjoy the fun.
As I bent down to take my shot I did my best to stop the hem of my skirt riding up my thighs. From the corner of my eye, I could see my breasts swing in the tight, fine cotton as my arm moved. The game continued with me having potted one ball to Tim’s four. I was sure that he was now deliberately leaving the white in as awkward a position as possible for me, so that I had to stretch across the table to get at it. I knew that my most of my crotch must be on show on those shots, but what was really bothering me was that my perverse and seemingly uncontrollable pleasure from exhibitionism was in full flow.
I realised that despite my show of reluctance I was enjoying this and my pussy was so wet that I was afraid it would show through my thong. What an invitation that would be!
The men had dropped their banter, as they moved around to watch me play, and the sexual tension and silence was worrying. I leant across the table for a difficult shot and felt my skirt slide up my back. If someone wanted to stick their cock in me there and then they’d have no problem. Billy came up behind me.
“Try doing this,” he whispered in my ear as he positioned my arm.
He was bending over me and I felt his erection pressing through his jeans against the back of my ass cheek. With his free hand, he ran a finger lightly over my right nipple.
“Hold it right there and you should pot that one,” he chuckled before moving away.