Nightcap

He is smiling as your glasses land together with a solid thunk against the bar. You grin back at him as the crowd behind you jostles against your shoulders.

"What do I owe you?" you shout over the jukebox, voices and laughter. Mark leans in towards you, and you step one foot onto the base of the bar, rising up to bring yourself closer to him, aware of the cleavage you are exposing as you lean across the counter. His short beard brushes against your cheekbone.

"On the house, dear," spoken softly in his smooth tenor, the same reply as always. His mouth is warm next to your ear and he stays a moment longer than necessary, rubbing his face against your skin once more before pulling away. Your mouth is slightly open, eyes locked on his.

Suddenly, a voice to your right: "Two rum and cokes?" He breaks eye contact for a quick nod to the customer beside you, then turns to make the drinks. You watch as he reaches up for the bottle of rum, noticing the shape of his forearm, the color of his skin exposed by his rolled-up sleeve. The interaction between the two of you is familiar, and you let the sweet tension settle in your belly with the warmth of the bourbon. It's a busy night, and by the time he is returning from the cash register, you're zipping up your coat. You catch eyes once more as you back into the crowd; he gives a three fingered wave around the pint glasses in his hand, treating you to one more sideways smile before you turn and exit.

As you wait for a break in traffic to dart across the street, you bury your chin into the collar of your winter coat. The wind is cold on your skin, and you feel it all the sharper for the warmth pulsing below your belly. You let yourself imagine the bar at the end of the night: unusually quiet, lightswitch flicking off, Mark turning the key in the lock and looking over his shoulder before thrusting his hands into his pockets and heading off to wherever he calls home. You wonder if you'll ever get the chance to accompany him. He's been flirting with you hard since the night you moved into the apartment across the street from the bar. You love these kind of men-not too tall, healthy looking, shaggy dark hair and scruffy beards around bright smiles and playful eyes. He's friendly and funny, and while it may be the free shots of Makers that keep you stopping in every night after work, you're eager for him to share a bit more of himself.

Indeed, as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, your fingertips are already tracing figure eights around the seam below the zipper of your jeans. You unlock your door and close it behind you, and your coat slides to the floor as your fingers slip under the waistband of your Levis. You collapse onto the couch and reach down to the wetness that has warmed your welcoming cunt, close your eyes, and let yourself go.

You awake disoriented, wincing in the bright light of your living room. Your orgasm must have knocked you into a deep sleep, and your eyes focus on the clock: 2:20am. You stretch out your legs, curling your toes, and your doorbell rings. This is the second ring, you realize. The first had been the sound that woke you up. Your face is flushed but presentable in the mirror by the door, and your socks patter down the stairs to see who is there. Cold air floods the entryway as you open the door-it is Mark.

"I saw your light on while I was closing up," he says. "There's just a trickle in the bottom of the Makers' bottle and I thought you might like to split it with me." His face is mischievous and hungry. It's a bold move: dropping by to invite you over to the bar after close. You feel an eager twitch between your legs, and say, "I'm always up for a nightcap."

Before you leave you must put on the shoes that you left by the front door, and the two of your maneuver around each other's bodies in the tiny entryway till you have enough room to bend down and tie your laces. Your ass is sticking up next to him, and his hand tickles along the gap of skin revealed between your shirt and jeans, confirming that this is more than a friendly invitation. As you stand he wraps his arm around you for warmth, opens the door, and you dash across the deserted street.

The door to the bar closes behind you, and you notice how quiet it is in the lowlit, empty room. He is quickly behind the bar, excited, and you pull yourself up to your usual corner of the counter, leaning towards him. The bottle of Makers, it turns out, is not as empty as he led you to believe. Two shots are poured.

"To you!" you toast, and drink. He smirks.

"Well then we also must toast one to you," and refills the glasses. The whiskey seems to go straight to your pussy, which is pulsing with warmth and eagerness. Mark finally empties the bottle into two larger glasses, placing a couple of ice cubes into each. He raises his glass, clinks it against yours, and says, "To the power of anticipation," as he leans down to place his lips on yours. He smells like a man at the end of the day, with a hint of fragrance still lingering from his morning's shower. His mouth is sweet, and you reach your hand up to touch his face as the bell above the door to the bar suddenly rings.

You break the kiss and turn swiftly to see a woman standing in the room with you.

"Well, Mark, I was coming to see if you needed a ride home, but from the looks of things I'm not sure you were planning to come home any time soon." She is petite and feisty, her thick red hair pulled into two short braids.

"Shit, Carrie, I... I don't know what to say..." You look back at Mark as he stumbles for his words, his confidence falling, hurrying around the bar.

You realize what you are in the middle of and make a beeline for the door, but Carrie steps in front of you, blocking your path.

"I'm sorry," you stammer, trying not to panic. "I didn't know that he was with someone... I mean I didn't mean to kiss him..." Her cheeks are red from cold and rage and her full lips are slightly pursed. Her eyes flicker.

"Yeah," she says, "you look like you'd kiss anybody, wouldn't you?" When you don't respond, she grabs you by the shoulder, and as if to prove a point, she kisses you full on the mouth. You stumble back in shock. "Come on," she says reproachfully. "I thought you were in the mood for some kissing," and draws you to her again. Your body betrays its arousal with a sharp intake of breath as your breasts press against hers. The whiskey has gone to your head, and while you don't understand her response to discovering the two of you, her apparently jealous power trip is turning you on. You let yourself feel her kiss more deeply this time, noticing her smooth skin, her soft mouth. She breaks it suddenly. "I'm sorry," she says. "You were here to kiss Mark, weren't you?" She grabs your hips and turns you around forcefully to face him.

Mark looks both confused and aroused. He is leaning back against the bar, supporting himself with both hands. "He's a sexy one, isn't he?" Carrie whispers into your ear. Then she says loudly, "Your little lady is a pretty good kisser, Mark. Would you like to give her another try?" She pushes you toward him, hands still strong on your hips. Suddenly the two of you are face to face, hesitating. "Come on you sluts," she says. "Kiss." So you do. Her hands grip tighter on your hipbones as you and Mark bring your lips together. "Yeah," she says huskily. "Keep at it." Mark is breathing heavily around your kisses. He reaches a hand forward to feel your waist, and Carrie smacks it away. "Hands off, horny boy. I've got her."

Carrie's hand begins to move at your right hip. It slides up and down along your curve, then reaches to the front of your jeans, exploring your pocket before making its way to your zipper. She presses hard down along the flap, grabbing you when she reaches the bottom and then continuing to rub your pussy through the denim. You can feel her body pressed against your back. A moan escapes your lips against Mark's, and he kisses you harder, his tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth. Her left hand now slides up, under your shirt, pulling up your bra, going straight for your nipple which she pinches hard. You gasp and open your eyes. You and Mark are distractedly trying to kiss, but his eyes are doing their best to take in everything that is happening to you.

Quickly, Carrie's arms wrap around your waist. The sound of your zipper is loud in the dark bar. She grabs your waistband and panties and pushes them both to the floor. Your skin is sensitive, and her hair rubbing against your leg tickles as she quickly undoes your shoelaces and pulls each foot free. She slides each hand up along your legs as she slowly stands, and then reaches them forward to outline your pussy lips before moving back around to your ass. You shudder. Carrie pushes you forward and your body is suddenly pressed against Mark. His belt buckle is cold against your skin; his dick is huge and hard and you both squirm despite yourselves. She undoes the clasp of your bra, and then pulls your shirt and bra over your head. As it comes between your face and Mark's she slaps your ass. "Don't you dare stop kissing." She reaches past you to grab Mark and pulls hard, and you are sandwiched between the two of them. Your breasts flatten against his chest and your chins buckle against each other, but you keep kissing and kissing.

Carrie reaches a hand between your slick legs, rubbing it up along the inside of Mark's thigh. She then stoops and gives his jeans the same treatment, and you are soon thigh to thigh, his hardon pressing into your belly. She steps away, watching as you stand naked making out with her boyfriend. "Unbutton his shirt," she growls. You do so, and she moves behind you as he helps pull it off. You hear the shuffling of clothes, and when she presses against you again, she is all skin. You can feel the soft roughness of her pubic hair rubbing against your ass, and her breasts perking into your back. Her breathing is uneven now, and her body feels electrified.

Carrie's fingernails scrape up along the sides of Mark's body and onto his shoulders, which she pushes back, back.... "Up," she says. Your kiss finally breaks as Mark looks at her over your shoulder, confused. "Up on the bar." He scoots backward, lifting himself till he is lying with on his back on the countertop, his knees hanging over the edge. His arms lie obediently at his sides, but his dick reaches up eagerly as he glances down at the two naked women standing before him. "You too, missy," she orders. "Up." She helps move you with gratuitous grabs of your ass as you climb onto the bar, straddling him on all fours. She slaps your ass, pushing you forward, and says, "No. Sit." You are dripping and horny and you slide your slit along his penis from base to shaft. His eyes roll back and he bites his lip. Carrie climbs up behind you, maneuvering you until you are sitting on Mark's chest with your legs dangling down on the other side of the bar. He looks up at you from between your legs, and you can tell by the look on his face as you feel Carrie moving behind you the moment when she slides herself onto him. She does not move at first but slides her hands around your body, grabbing your breasts, pulling you back against hers.

"Doesn't she smell good, Markie?" The scent of your wet pussy is filling the air. "See if that cunt tastes as good as her sweet little mouth." Mark is happy to obey, and he raises his head to take a long lick. Your back arches in response and Carrie grabs your breasts as she grinds against him. The three of you freeze for a second as you savor the sensation. "Eat her." And you each begin your slight movements, getting faster and faster, becoming animal-like as your need for stimulation takes over. You need something to hold on to, and you reach back to Carrie's thighs, digging in with your fingertips, feeling where they connect with Mark's torso. They move slightly as she fucks him, and you mindlessly tickle against them both as you feel Mark's tongue enter deep within you. Carrie pulls your head to one side by your hair and bites into your neck, looking down at your naked body. She pushes one of your hands forward, and you readily plunge your fingers into Mark's hair, pulling him against your cunt.

She comes first, with a low moan, dragging her breasts up against your back. You and Mark follow, in tandem, as if given permission by her orgasm to have your own. You all slow down and finally stop your movements, breathing hard, your eyes regaining focus.

Carrie licks up your neck and bites your earlobe. "What's your name, cutie?" she asks. You tell her. "Nice to meet you." She swallows as she pinches your tender nipples, hard, and says, "Don't fuck with my boyfriend."