I’d been on the road for over three weeks, always staying in motels. I’m an IT trouble shooter with a big part of Oregon to cover. It was Halloween and as a large Hen Party was assembling in the lounge bar of my hotel, I decided to walk into town to a topless bar I’d visited before called The Palace. In times gone by it had probably been a spit-and-sawdust beer hall. In 2020 it was a noisy disco cocktail bar, with table service provided by gorgeous topless waitresses, many big-breasted. Mine was blonde and gamine, with a heart-shaped badge attached to her diamante choker that read: ‘I’M KIM’. “What’s it to be?” she asked demurely.

“Could I have a Mojito, please? And tell the bartender to give it an extra ‘kick’ would you?”

“An extra ‘kick’?”

“Yeah, a second measure of rum.”

She smiled and sashayed in the direction of the crowded bar, all the while wiggling her cute hips that were barely covered by a red tartan mini-skirt. Her bottom received several appreciative pats by the old-timers perched on their bar stools.

She was back in a trice. “Here we are; one Mojito, with an extra kick and some salted peanuts – to keep you thirsty.” As she placed the coaster in front of me, she allowed the tip of one of her small breasts to brush against my bare arm. Taking this as an invitation, I turned fully towards her, intending to stroke her nipples. But she shook her head.

“Out of bounds, I’m afraid. House Rule.”

I swung back on my stool and glumly sipped my cocktail. “So what time do you finish, Kim?” I asked (I’d heard that many of the waitresses in this bar were available - for a price – after hours).

“I finish at two.”

“And are you free after that?”

She fiddled with the beer mat. “To come back to your motel, you mean?”

“Sure.”

“Possibly. It would be $50. But cash in advance before we leave here. No plastic.”

“Sounds good to me. How would it be if you fetched me another Mojito.”

“Sure.” And she was off again, though I sensed a little moodily. Maybe she found our sex-for-cash arrangement distasteful.

“So, do you get by ok here on your wages and extras?” I asked her when she returned with my drink.

“Comme ci comme ca. We pool all our tips but the scumbag of a manager creams off a good percentage.” She glanced across at the bar, where a swarthy individual was bluntly giving orders to a youth stacking glasses on a shelf. “A creature of habit is Max. I just wish he’d get out of the habit of stealing our fucking tips! With a bit of luck, he’ll be off shortly.”

“Why, has he got another bar?”

She gave a smirk (the first time I’d seen her smile). “No – around 1.00 am he always goes to his office out back for a joint and a nap!” She began nervously fiddling with the beer mat again. “Listen, if I’m gonna come back with you for the night, there’s something I need to show you. So, when you see old Max slip away for his nightly toke, meet me over there in the lobby of the restrooms. OK?”

I assented to this odd suggestion and Kim swept off to collect empty glasses and wipe down tabletops.

About twenty minutes later I spotted the round-shouldered Max heading for the back office. I moved to the far corner of the hall where the restrooms were located. Inside a pair of slatted swing doors, an inner lobby had signage to ‘MENS’ and ‘LADIES’.

Kim was waiting in the empty lobby and nodded her head towards the male section. “Let’s find a stall in there.” Apart from an overpowering smell of urine, the utilitarian space, with its cracked white tiles and unshaded neon tubes, was empty. She pushed open a stall door and led me by the hand inside. We stood close together and she placed her hands lightly on my hips.

“Look, honey, I don’t want to deceive you – and yes, I’d really like to come back to your motel to play tonight. But there’s something you need to know.” She removed one hand from my hip, took my hand in hers, and guided it under her mini-kilt. Instantly I felt the unmistakable shape of a semi-erect male penis.

“I suppose that changes things somewhat, doesn’t it?” she giggled. I was too dumbstruck to answer, though I didn’t move my hand away. I fondled her lovely cock, which was clearly responding to my manual attention.

“Err, yes and no,” I stammered.

“How so?”

“Well…” I gulped nervously, hesitating to make my admission. “By the feel of it, it seems you’re un-cut. I’m cut. And I’d guess we’re about equal lengths. So how would it be… if we went back to my motel and tried a little ‘docking’. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”

She gave a lovely chuckle and clutched my crotch through my slacks. “What a delicious idea. No, I’ve never done it either, but I’ve always wanted to try it! Yeah, let’s do it, shall we?”

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, as she added with a giggle, “I’m told it can be awfully messy!”

“That’s OK – my bedroom has a huge walk-in shower.”

We slipped out of the restrooms area separately and half-an-hour later were walking, hand-in-hand, to my motel.

I sat her down on the edge of the bed and brought us both a large glass of chilled white wine. I knelt down to unlace her pink basketball boots and to slip off her white ankle socks. I kissed her feet and stroked the inside of her smooth legs. She smiled and lifted her tartan mini-skirt, allowing me to see her beautiful uncut cock for the first time. Its ’hood’ – nearly an inch long and with dark brown parallel creases - looked so inviting. As if reading my mind, she smiled and nodded. I leaned forward and pushed my coiled tongue into her hood. Early traces of the ‘pre’ she was secreting were exciting. I stood up, unzipped my slacks, allowing them to drop to the floor. I slid the bottom of my jockey shorts to one side and took out my circumcised cock for her to see it for the first time. She looked up at me and smiled. “Oh my, looks like we could have a perfect fit!”

After reviving our spirits with the rest of the bottle of wine, we moved across to the walk-in shower. We were now both naked. Kim was a good deal shorter than me, so we rolled up a bath towel as a sort of bolster-pillow for her to stand on. “So how exactly does this thing work?” she asked sheepishly. “I’ve only seen porn clips on the net.”

“Same for me. I think we must first get the tips of our cocks to ‘kiss’ – so to speak. Then ever-so-gently - so that neither of us has a premature ejaculation – you’ll need to carefully slip your foreskin over the head of my cock, so it’s covering my glans. Do you think you could manage that?”

“I’ll try.” She cautiously followed my instructions, until our two cockheads were conjoined by what can best be described as ‘a human condom’. It was a very pretty sight. She gave me a lovely smile. “Like that?”

“Perfect.”

“Will you take charge, please?”

I nodded agreement and with one hand began slowly massaging the junction point. She uttered a quiet purr of delight and closed her eyes. I tried to make the gripping motion soft and seductive. Her head slumped forwards and I kissed the nape of her neck as she gave an ecstatic moan. I was doing everything possible to hold back my climax until I could sense that she was ready to finish. Our pee slits were now directly touching and I could feel her pre-cum seeping out. “Oh, please finish now, darling,” she moaned, “I so need to cum!”

That passionate exaltation was the ‘trigger’ that was to produce a magnificent dual climax. Gripping my hips tightly she came profusely, still contained inside her hood. Now my semen met hers head-on, resulting in a veritable Vesuvian outpouring of cum. I recalled from my college frotting days how intimate it was a feel another person’s semen on your fingers. Trickling down our legs, it made a gigantic pool of creamy spunk on the shower floor.

She looked down and exclaimed with a giggle: “I warned you it would be messy!”

With my two middle fingers, I scooped some of our combined juices from her inside thigh, smeared it over her lips, and kissed her, as she wrapped her arms intimately around my waist.