Phone Sex In A Bar

And then there was the time my girlfriend brought herself off in front of me, right there, early one evening in a crowded bar. I'm still not sure to this day if anyone saw her...

It happened during one of those drunken, horny moments, and we were sat just inside the entrance of a dim-lit snug, dominated by a big traditional fireplace - and sharing our low table with a group of four blow-ins sat along one of its sides. Pretty much all of them were facing the same way, mostly looking into the flames, while letting its heat melt the post-winter blues from their bones and minds. Across from us and further to the left at the table's far corner, another couple were in fairly ernest conversation about the mixed-match selection of books lining the three shelves along the angled wall behind them. And to our right, around the other shin-high table, eight or so others in a loose crowd were getting to know each other - as generally happened in that part of the bar.

Finally to our far left in the deeper gloom of a recessed section with it's own small table, another couple sat quietly within their own camraderie, absorbed in their pint and a half, with a gap of bundled jackets between us and them. Beyond the three-quarters height wooden partition, a slow flow of early evening folks came in or stepped back out onto the noisy bustle of the street directly outside.

The music was already loud, or that may have been the drink once more playing its tricks - which is why I can't really say how it had all started - although we weren't really that drunk, just very merry, and very, very horny.

We'd only been together two months, and she already knew I had a thing for seeing a woman masturbate - and had subsequently already delighted me a few times with solo-shows of her own sensual _expression. Vibrators and other toys hadn't entered the picture by then, and I suppose the conversation must have angled in along that tack somehow - y'know, washing-machine spin cycles, and mobile phones on vibrate - all that kind of stuff. I mentioned that my Motorola gave an extremely heavy vibration, and she looked at me in that slow way that includes a delicious raising of both eyebrows, full of clear communication - and that was when conversation segued into action.

Taking my phone from me and studying its compact bulk for a few seconds, while it lay there in her outstretched palm - admiring the form-functional smooth sloping curve of its leading edge, she deftly keyed my number on her own phone, and looked at mine expectantly. I always keep it on vibrate, as I hate the noise those things invariably make. Her eyebrows shot up a notch further, when it picked up her call and fairly danced out of her hand.

With a guiless look across her field of vision, she lifted her feet into a comfortable position on the table's edge, and drew her legs up before her in casual shielding at the same time. She lay that curve delicately above the magic spot in readiness - jumping slightly when it buzzed its missed-call alert straight down through her pubic bone. With a smile and very intent intent look of concentration, she settled down further - in so doing, making sure the fabric of her combats was smooth and tight between her legs.

To the rest of the world outside our priviledged circle of intimate activity, it must have just looked like she was comparing phone-book entries, in a comfortable position - but when her next call to my number hit, her face lit in a way that defied misinterpretation.

I grinned at her like an idiot, with an I told you so...twinkle in both my eyes. Her own _expression blossomed with an evil smile, and she hit the redial again.

Needless to say I was enjoying all this immensely, and was taking each second of pleasure as it came, not really expecting anything more to develop, except for some fun later, at home - I was however rapidly getting hard from the unexpected show. Lifting just my right boot up onto the table, I steepled the leg casually to mask these effects now showing on me - as wearing form-tight jeans and nothing underneath them, meant I couldn't lift both, not with me dressing left, as they say, and an erection already approaching the halfway mark down my thigh. The right partially shielded it, but to protect the innocent, I tugged and flipped the hem of my long t-shirt down further to cover as much of the evidence as was possible - as this town is rife with crotch watchers, I didn't want my response clueing any casual glancers in on the action unfolding.

To further detract, I reached for and sipped at my pint while slowly panning the room with a disinterested gaze, my _expression sending out the message of...there's nothing to see here folks, so carry on about your business...

In that short interlude, my horny companion had been calling my phone repeatedly, and now had it pressed down between her slightly opened thighs - I could no longer look away...

With another quick glance around the tables, and seeing that no one seemed to have noticed her little show, she worked her left hand inside the black combats - and opening her legs a little more, she positioned her other hand with the phone still in it, framed in that valley directly over and above the action - but even in the partial gloom, I could easily see the hand's outline, and its first stirrings of slight movement. There is just one thing that will get me hotter than watching a woman pleasuring herself, that's seeing a woman doing so while fully clothed - it must be the illicit urgency of fingers working inside fabric, lending a subtlety that blows all that open and obvious stuff just right out of the water - it does it every time for me.

Yet I was torn there and then by this display of my lady touching herself in that most sublime of ways, and the fact that she was doing it in my crowded local, where someone could definitely catch onto what was going down, (and up), just by a mere glance. Shit, the glass collecters on their rounds soon to commence, would definitely see everything the instant they entered the snug - yet I was loving the thrill of it and wouldn't have stopped her for anything in the world - not that I could have, it seemed, not if the quick jerking and flexing motions under the fabric between her legs were anything to go by - it was definitely one of those moments, and she was building to a quick orgasm, fuelled by the moment and its own thrill.

There's that lovely and eternal second during really good masturbation, when you enter a certain level where you don't give a fuck about how you look, or how much noise you might make - you just have to get there. She'd definitely reached it and had sunk lower on the bench seat, ass suspended over the gap between seat, and was almost sat on the table. Her legs now opened quite obviously, as the phone dropped in a slow slide from her limp hand and she went for it.

I felt like I was going to squirt a cup-full down the leg of my jeans at any moment, seeing her like that, legs as wide open as they could go, and her hand sliding two fingers into herself in a rapid tempo that left nothing to the imagination. I swear I could hear the wet sucking sounds clearly over the music, and her face was a picture - eyes closed, mouth open and panting with that half-pained/exstic smile flickering on and off all across her lips. There was no longer anything sly or covert about what she was doing now - the briefest of glances told me incredibly, that no one had caught on yet, at least no one I'd seen, and I wasn't about to take my eyes away for a detailed survey!

Stiffening with a tight-wound convulsion, she came and subsided slowly out of it, smiling and biting her lip while those fingers were still busy and stroking the last tremours to the surface - apparently not in the least bit interested in returning just yet to the reality of being in a public place - in fact, she seemed about ready to go for a second orgasm.

Through the buzz of pleasure, I worked her hand surreptitiously free and lifted it to my lips for a kiss, then placed the two glistening fingers into my mouth and sucked them clean, bringing her back from where she was.

Smiling a full and rosy-cheeked smile, she sat up slowly, and five seconds later, her parents entered the snug, as she knew they would.