An Evening at Kelly's

I've never been very adventurous when it comes to sex. My experiences have been pretty middle of the road. But, for years I have fantasized about exhibitionism and sex in public places. Sure, I've had the occasional "groping session" in a booth at a restaurant, but nothing much beyond that. Lately, however, I've been thinking it's time to finally act on these fantasies. After all, I'm not getting any younger. If I don't do it now, in my early 40s, when will I do it? When I'm at the nursing home trying to turn on the 80-year-old men? Something tells me that just isn't going to work out very well.

One weekend, when my husband was out of town on yet another one of his business trips, I decided to take advantage of my "alone time." If I get lucky, perhaps my time won't be "alone" after all, I thought. First things first, however. A nice steamy bubble bath to get me in the proper mood. I fill the tub practically to the brim, loaded with mango-scented bubbles, peel off all my clothes and climb in. The water is almost hotter than I can stand, but the minute my pussy touches the hot water and bubbles I'm immediately turned on. I lay back against my bath pillow, stretched out in the oversized tub and relax. I'd turned off all the lights and lit a few candles on the edge of the tub before I started, so the mood is quite relaxing. Before I realize it, I've reached down under the bubbles with my hand and started stroking myself. Thinking about my plans for the rest of the evening have made me very excited, and I can feel my wet juices mingling with the bath water. I stroke my clit with one hand, while I squeeze my nipples with the other. Imagining doing this with an audience brings me to a new level of excitement I've never experienced before. But I stop before I orgasm, wanting to delay my pleasure until later that evening.

Time to get moving. I climb out of the tub and towel off my voluptuous body, playing a bit more with my pussy as I do. I consider shaving it, wondering if that would be a bigger attraction, but in the end decide the site of my dark, curly pubic hair will be more of a turn on for whatever lucky guys happen to catch my flashing act that evening.

Reluctantly, I stop fingering myself and head to the closet to figure out what to wear. A miniskirt? No, too obvious. Besides, miniskirts after 40 just look like you're trying too hard. I settle on a knee-length A-line skirt. Thong or nothing? Nothing, I think. I pull on a tight, scoop-necked knit shirt on top. It's not too low cut and revealing but has the benefit of outlining every curve of my body. I know my nipples will be obvious in it, especially as I get excited and they get harder and more prominent. I'm not one to brag, and lord knows I certainly have the same low self-esteem issues about my body that most women have, but my breasts and nipples are pretty much my best feature. I've been incredibly well-endowed since I hit puberty oh-so-many years ago and, while I used to be embarrassed by my oversized tits, thinking they just made me look fatter, I've since learned to appreciate them. It certainly hasn't hurt that my husband is a breast man, constantly telling me how much he loves my breasts and their very sensitive nipples. I've been known to reach orgasm just from having my nipples fondled or sucked.

I toss on a pair of high-heeled black sandals to show off my legs to their best advantage, and I'm ready to go.

I've given a lot of thought to where to go and finally settle on a small bar down the road called Kelly's. I doubt I'll run into anyone I know as it doesn't exactly draw the kind of upscale crowd I'm used to. Think lots of smoke, guys drinking Bud from a bottle and the occasional fight breaking out, and you've got Kelly's. I've heard their burgers are good too, but I'm not thinking about food tonight. I have other things on my mind, and my already damp pussy can attest to that.

When I walk in, I'm a little nervous at first. I can't remember the last time I went to a bar alone. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever gone to a bar alone. What the hell am I thinking? I'm a middle-aged married woman carrying a few extra pounds on her aging body. What on earth makes me think anyone would be interested in anything I have to flash? Perhaps I should just leave, go home, get back in the tub and do what I always do when my husband is out of town. It's a whole lot safer and more in my comfort zone. I'm just about to turn around and high tail it out of there when I see a stool open up at the bar. I decide to at least stay for one drink. I don't have to actually do what I set out to do. I can just sit there for a short while, eavesdrop on a few conversations, have a Jack and 7 and then head home for an evening of pleasuring myself.

As I settled in and order my cocktail from the bartender who barely looks like she's out of high school, I take a look around at the other people sitting around the bar. Way too many twenty-somethings, out for a big night on the town. Mistake, mistake, mistake, I tell myself. You're not going to do anything but embarrass yourself here. Oh well, I haven't committed to anything yet. I'll just sit here, enjoy my drink and then leave.

In the middle of listening to the young girls next to me talking about how trashed they got last night at some friend's party and who went home with whom, I catch the eye of a slightly older gentleman sitting on the other side of the young party girls. We both roll our eyes at the stupidity of the girls next to us, who can't seem to tell their stories without peppering every other sentence with "I was like... and then she was like." What is it with kids today? Didn't anyone ever teach them proper grammar? Oh, shit, I really am turning into an old lady. Now I'm using phrases like "what's wrong with kids today?" I have GOT to get out of this frame of mind. Perhaps another drink would help.

I'm just about to order another Jack and 7 when the man on the other side of the party girls says, "Can I get you another one?" When I nod yes, he orders my drink from the bartender, picks up his scotch and moves over to sit beside me. "I'm John," he says, holding out his hand for me to shake. "Marie," I reply, giving his hand a nice firm shake. I've always hated those women who have wimpy, dead-fish handshakes, and I refuse to be one. John's handshake is nice and firm as well, and his hands are big and soft. Clearly not a day laborer. Day trader maybe, but not a day laborer. I wonder what a guy like him is doing in a place like this. I wonder if he likes these kind of bars. And, while I'm wondering, I wonder what he would think if I lifted up my skirt right now and flashed my pussy at him. Hmmm... this evening seems to be looking up.

John turns out to be a great conversationalist, and before I know it, we're talking and laughing like we're old friends. Well, old friends with a bit of a spark between them. He's not a day trader, as it turns out, but a marketing manager for a mid-level publishing company. Being in a similar field myself, we share some stories of marketing disasters and various projects we've worked on. I know, not as exciting as "how trashed we got last night and who went home with whom," like the girls next to us are still talking about, but it worked for us. As two drinks turned into three, I noticed John leaning a little closer to me whenever he was talking or listening to me. He talked with his hands and was one of those people who tended to touch your arm, or in this case, my thigh, whenever he was telling a story. The more he talked - and touched - the more excited I was getting. I could feel my pussy getting wet and knew my nipples were poking out of my shirt. And I knew John appreciated what he was seeing. He kept glancing at my chest when he thought I wouldn't notice and then would quickly look away. I casually re-crossed my legs, letting my skirt slide a little further up my legs. Hmm...maybe I should have gone with the miniskirt after all. Oh well, I'd just have to make this work.

Just then, my cell phone in my purse rang. I bent down to pick it up from the floor where I'd placed it, being sure to give John a nice, long look down the front of my shirt at the same time so he could see a little more of those breasts of mine he seemed so enamored with. And, while he was getting an eyeful of my cleavage, I took the opportunity to check out his crotch. Yep, a definite bulge working there. Actually, a pretty large, long bulge. Yes indeed, this evening was going to be fun. As I pulled my phone out of my purse and sat up straight again, I caught John's eye. Busted. He knew he'd been caught staring down my shirt and had the decency to look a little embarrassed. His embarrassment had the benefit of exciting me even more. Clearly picking up strange women in a bar wasn't something he normally did if he was embarrassed to be caught peeking.

By this time, I felt myself dripping wet. I knew my skirt must be damp and wondered if it would be obvious when I stood up. I decided to have a little more fun with John. I excused myself to go take my call, and as I climbed down off the bar stool managed to "accidentally" get my skirt caught on the seat of it. I knew John got a good view of my legs all the way up to the top of my thighs as I walked away. I pretended not to realize what I'd done but smoothed my skirt down, lingering for just a moment over my rounded ass, knowing he was still looking and wondering if anyone else was too.

My God but this was a major turn on for me. Why hadn't I ever done this before? When I got back after my call, I saw a fresh drink waiting for me on the bar. I thanked John for ordering for me, climbed back on my stool and then realized I still had my phone in my hand. John, being a gentleman, had stood when I came back, so I asked him if he would stick my phone back in my purse on the floor for me. As he bent over, I opened my legs, knowing he'd get an eyeful as he stood back up again. I could feel my that my pussy lips and clit were fully engorged by now, and knew he'd see how wet I was. He paused for just a moment, clearly stunned by what was on display just inches from his eyes, and then fully recovered and stood up again. By this time, I realized that the booth full of young guys sitting behind us was fully aware of what was going on and what I was doing. Oh well, may as well give them a little show too and let them have something to fantasize about tonight when they went home to their beds alone after an evening out with the guys.

I pretty much had my skirt hiked up to my thighs by this point, but, once again, I pretended not to notice. The next time John casually touched my bare, smooth thigh as we was telling a story, I put my hand right on top of his and kept it there. No surprise, he didn't protest. By now, the bulge in his jeans was painfully obvious - "painful" being the operative word. How on earth could men stand that? It certainly didn't look very comfortable, straining against the fabric of his jeans like it was. I removed my hand from where it was holding his on my bare leg and boldly placed it right on his bulging cock.

"This doesn't look very comfortable," I said. "It's not," he gasped, a little short of breath.

"Let me see what I can do to make it better." I slowly unzipped his jeans, as he tried to slide his chair further under the bar so no one would see what I was doing. I guess he didn't harbor the same exhibitionism fantasies I did. But he also wasn't complaining. Once I got his pants unzipped, I reached my hand in and pulled out his cock. Hard didn't begin to describe it. It was hot and pulsing in my hand.

"Was that my phone ringing again?"" I asked, knowing full well it wasn't. I leaned over again, as if to reach for my purse, bent my head down and quickly flicked my tongue over the tip of his cock. "No, I guess it wasn't. Must have been someone else's phone."

The guys in the booth behind us were now fully aware of what was going on, leaning over trying to catch every bit of the action. John, however, had his back to them and seemed to be operating under the impression that what was happening was only visible to our eyes. I wasn't about to set him straight.

I lifted my skirt higher still and placed one leg over John's leg. I knew at this angle, all he had to do was look down and he could get a full-on view of all I had to share. But he was pretending he didn't notice anything, still trying to talk as if this were just a normal evening in a bar. He wasn't having much success. The next time he started waving his hands around during a story, I grabbed one of them and placed it right on my melting hot pussy, holding it there for a brief moment, rubbing it up and down. I then casually lifted it up to my mouth and sucked my own juices off him, finger by finger. He moaned and then took a quick gulp of his drink in an attempt to calm himself.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I love the taste of my own juices. Could we do that again?" He didn't say a word but put his hand right back on my pussy, going so far as to finger my clit a little bit this time. Again, I licked my juices off his fingers, taking my time with each one, sucking it as hard as I would his cock given the opportunity.

Clearly embolden by what was happening, he said, "I'll go you one better" and leaned over, trying to hide his head under the bar, and started licking me. I looked over his head at the booth of young guys and gave them a big wink. One of them gave me a thumbs up. I knew they were enjoying the show, and I planned to make it even better for them before the night was over.

John was obviously well-skilled at pleasing a woman with his tongue. As he darted it in and out of me, I started squirming on my stool, moaning just a little bit under my breath. It had been way too long since I'd gotten any tongue action from my husband besides the few cautious darts into my mouth while he was kissing me, and I was enjoying myself immensely. The combination of the alcohol, public place and John's tongue were just about to send me over the edge, but I wanted to prolong things just a bit more. I whispered to John that he should follow me and headed off down the hallway toward the back room of the bar. I'm sure he thought we were going into the empty back room for a little privacy, but I stopped him midway down the hallway, where I knew we were out of view of most of the patrons but the young men in the booth would still have a clear sight-line to us.

He'd quickly zipped himself up for the walk through the bar, but I didn't waste any time unzipping his jeans and pulling out his throbbing cock once again. I got down on my knees and took the whole thing deep in my mouth, sucking, sucking, sucking. John looked around, came to the conclusion that no one could see us and let the mood overtake him. I stood up and lifted my skirt up to my waist so he could fully enjoy my dripping pussy and then pulled him close to me to rub myself against him.

"Do you mind if I take off my shirt?" I asked. "It's a little warm in here." Unable to speak, he simply nodded his approval, and I whipped off my shirt. He pulled one of my breasts out of the bra cup and immediately took my hard nipple in his mouth, sucking with all his might. I unclasped my bra to give him full access and enjoyed the attention he lavished on both nipples while I rubbed his cock against my pussy.

I looked over his head to see what the guys thought and noticed two of them were so overcome with the scene that they had their own cocks out of their jeans and were fiercely rubbing them. Wow, I've really started something here, I thought.

John, I could tell, was just about to explode. I quickly pulled him deep inside me and gripped him as tightly as I could. He buried his face in my large breasts as he violently shuddered and came. The excitement of sex with a near-stranger, in a public place, complete with audience was more than I could handle, and I couldn't delay my own pleasure anymore. I'm sure I must have screamed as I came, so intense was my orgasm, but in the overly loud bar, no one seemed to notice.

I let John have one last feel of my pussy, now dripping with his juices and mine, put my clothes back on and walked out of the bar without a backward glance toward John, who I knew was still standing in the hallway stunned by the events of the evening.

I did, however, make a brief detour by the guys' booth as I was leaving, gave them a wink and said, "I'll be here tomorrow night too."