Razing the Bar

"No", she shared, "I didn't cum. But still... it was exciting." His eyes were on her, taking her in - her beauty... her sensuality... her very being. Her breathing had quickened noticeably since she had begun sharing her story, and that appealed to him as much as the story itself - the knowledge that this wasn't a confession of some past exploit, but rather one of her first forays into allowing her inner-slut to be expressed and explored.

The tale had begun as they were having their morning coffee, discussing their plans for the day. Grocery errands and possibly going for a few test drives or open houses, plus preparations for having company later that night. All quite innocent, banal even. She had been talking about what "signature drink" they should serve to their guests; and he was mocking her... if the evening included a "signature drink", he quipped, they should have promoted it as a "soiree" and sent proper invitations by mail, in exquisite hand-written calligraphy atop embossed stationary. There was a comfortable casualness in which they were joking with one another -- the to-and-fro of playful comradery... the occasional chiding followed by a sharp retort. Wit v wit.

It was then, her fingers swiping through drink options on her phone, that she felt that wonderfully sexy feeling. That feeling a woman has the opportunity to enjoy, should she choose, after receiving her partner's cum deep inside of her. Rather than cleaning up after the morning's escapades, she had made such a decision, and was now experiencing the predicted outcome, if one can pardon the pun. His cum was leaking out of her core. With barely an acknowledgment, she had parted her legs slightly to give her hand access while continuing to scroll on her phone. He had noticed, however, that while she had been talking aloud about each of the various drinks (amidst their playful banter), occasionally asking if they had some random ingredient like fresh mint or orange bitters, her speech had stopped mid-sentence.

Stirring milk into their second serving of coffee, he then wiped the counter due to a slight overpour. Before walking back around the island to sit next to her, he slid her coffee mug towards her, paying attention to swing the mug so the handle was facing her. Her hand was between her thighs and, notably, in motion. Her thumb continued to navigate her phone and she seemed to be paying no mind to what her other hand was doing, yet she was most definitely not fully present. He didn't want to disturb her. She brought her hand back above the counter, sliding the fingers haphazardly into her mouth, droplets of cum now adorning her lips and the side of her cheek. As if forgetting that he was there and speaking only to herself, she moaned "mmm... still warm from being inside of me."

"You are such a cumslut", he teased, triggering her to laugh, tilting her head slightly towards him and smiling as she transitioned out of her daze, still sucking his cum and her own juices off her fingers. "I know" she proclaimed proudly, removing her fingers and directing her hand back under the counter. "And I know you love it" she continued confidently, her hand now making its journey back from her pussy, gesturing suggestively in his direction, palm upward. He opened his mouth and engulfed her slightly bent fingers pointed so invitingly towards him, glazed with cum. Her digits licked clean, she admonished him in jest - "you know, you're a big cumslut too." She was not lying.

They groaned suggestively in unison, holding eye contact, until the moans turned into a giddy chuckle. He twirled the bar stool around, sat down, and then asked "so tell me about one of your first slutty experiences."

And that is when their morning coffee conversation had turned to past sexual exploits. And that is when her tale began - her tale of being finger-fucked by a guy while sitting in a crowded bar.

---

"Well," she began, clearing her throat, "it all happened when I had just started seeing this guy..." Her eyes had bowed down slightly, intentionally looking away from him. "We were supposed to go out - just the two of us. Steve. That was his name. We had only been out a couple of times and hadn't really done anything yet. I mean, nothing physical - just kissing. It was still in the very early stages, totally casual, but I definitely liked him. But he had called last minute to say that he was going out with other friends instead, since a friend was visiting from out of town. This 'friend' was his ex, so I was definitely a little pissed. They had known each other as friends for years, before they had dated, and they had maintained that friendship after they broke-up. He invited me to join, but I wasn't sure... told him I'd think about it."

"After I got off the phone with him I decided I was going to 'win' him over... show him that I was better than his ex. So I decided to put on the sexiest outfit I could find and meetup with him at the bar. I felt amazing. I had kind of pumped myself up and was excited about how great I looked. I felt sexy and ready to take on the night. They were already there when I got there. She was sitting next to him and a little too 'handsy' for my liking. I have to admit I was more than a little jealous. The three of them were sitting on the same side of a long table, on a bench seat. Steve was between them. He saw me and waved me over. I was a little disappointed he didn't get up to give me a hug, or acknowledge me in a little more obvious way. You know, more chivalrous. But, I get it - getting up from a bench is a little more awkward. I squeezed myself between him and his other guy friend so that me and his ex were on either side of him. I wanted to have equal access to him, but thought that if I pushed myself between him and his ex it would be too obvious. He did say that he was glad that I decided to come, but then turned his attention back to his ex. The other guy tapped my shoulder and introduced himself."

She lifted her gaze up briefly, looking at him as she paused in her story. There was a mix of shyness and uncertainty in her eyes. She lowered her eyes again and continued. "Anyway, it didn't take long for the liquor to hit me. I hadn't had any supper, and I was doing doubles. I was getting more brave and decided to put my hand on his leg... Steve's leg. He didn't stop me, so I gained a little more confidence. Then I started to slide my hand up his leg and further to the inside of his thigh. I wasn't really trying to grope him - I just wanted to feel close and wanted his attention. I think I barely knew what I was doing. Not so much because of the alcohol, but probably my jealousy and hormones in overdrive. His other guy friend kept trying to talk to me. John, I think. Or maybe Josh. I don't know. It doesn't matter. I mean... I had essentially cut John off from talking with the others when I had sat down between them... so, of course, he was talking to me... who else was he going to talk to? Plus, I was looking pretty hot." Her head was still tilted down slightly towards the counter, but he noticed her eyes look up to him for a moment as she spoke that last line, and he could see a hint of a smile in those eyes.

Giggling nervously for heartbeat or two, she breathed in deeply, and then proceeded. "Then I felt Steve's hand on mine. I remember feeling a little giddy, like a schoolgirl. And then he moved my hand off his leg... and my stomach sank. I suddenly felt like I was drowning. Fuck. I was just pissed now. Well, partly pissed but I guess more so that I was really hurt and feeling brutally rejected. It was supposed to be our night out and, not only had he chosen to spend time with his ex over me, I felt like he was ignoring me. So I gulped down the last of my drink and slammed the glass down on the table. I didn't mean to slam it, but I most certainly did. Steve looked over at me, and his ex asked if everything was ok. I muttered something about being thirsty, turned to Josh, or John I mean, and told him we should grab another drink from the bar. I really just wanted to get away from Steve at that moment. Well, not really. What I really wanted was Steve to pay attention to me. But that wasn't going to happen so I just needed a moment to regroup and decide what I should do. Should I call it a night? Head home? Accept defeat? Fuck no. John said he'd go with me and had already started getting up from the bench. He held my hand and helped me up off the bench, which, as it turns out, was a little awkward to navigate in my short skirt without completely exposing myself."

His hand was on hers, resting on the kitchen island. He could feel her nervousness about sharing this story, but also a little twitch from her hand as she talked about exposing herself. There was a sense of contradictory feelings -- a bashfulness, but also a twinge of excitement about being sexy and on display. Leaning back slightly, she seemed to be withdrawing -- battling with the conflict of juxtaposed feelings and memories. Solemn in her air, her eyes looked to him seeking guidance on how to continue, or if she should at all. "And?", he asked softly and with a sincerity that gave her the confidence to continue. His eyes were warm and genuine, and his hand on hers reassured her that she was in a safe space, free from judgment. She could be herself with him.

Clearing her throat, she went on, the hesitation in her voice easing with the start of each new sentence. "So... we got to the bar, which was within eyeshot of the table we were at... though the place was quite crowded. John tried to get the bartenders attention but it was really busy. I ended up squeezing between John and some other girl at the bar. And then I caught the bartenders attention." He felt her hand grip his slightly. He could tell she liked the attention she was getting. "Cuz... like I said... I was fucking hot." The energy was beginning to escalate - he noted that she had graduated from "pretty hot" to "fucking hot". "The bartender came right over to me and I caught his eyes giving me the once-over. I know it may sound silly, but it was just what I needed. He reached over the bar just to touch my hand and asked me what I wanted. Actually, he said 'what can I get you beautiful?'. John stepped in and spoke for me, while looking to me for approval. He ordered a vodka lime and I just nodded at the bartender."

"Fuck, I don't even know how I drank that then, but you know... young and stupid. And they were cheap. It reminded me of really bad Kool-Aid or something. At least it covered up the taste of the cheap vodka! I remember the bartender looking a little annoyed that John had answered instead of me. Fucking boys, being all territorial and shit. But I guess I was being the same way with Steve. Anyway, while the bartender was getting our drinks... oh, and John got a beer... not that I suppose that matters... I pulled out a bar stool which I had to almost jump onto because of my skirt. And I swirled it around to look back at our table. I'm not even sure if Steve noticed that I had left. He was still sitting at the table talking with his ex like nothing had changed. Fuck... I was going through highs of being 'seen' and appreciated by John and the bartender, and lows of feeling completely ignored by Steve. John was talking to me but I don't remember what he was saying. Plus it was loud."

"The bartender was back with our drinks so I swiveled back around. He gave me another long stare, completely ignoring John, and I caught him looking down at my chest. You know, it's so weird to hate being objectified, while also loving being objectified? Who doesn't want to feel sexy and beautiful? Anyway, he turned to John and mumbled something about what the drinks cost and John passed a bill to him along the bar. As I started sipping at my drink John leaned over close to me, his cheek right against mine, I think to make sure I could hear him, or maybe just an excuse to get closer to me. He told me how amazing I looked. Actually, I remember his exact words were 'I hope you know how stunning you look tonight'. Again, just what I needed. I admit - I was loving the attention. He kept talking to me and was being super flirty. I'm guessing he didn't know that Steve and I had been dating. Well, not dating formally I guess... but that we had been on some dates. Or maybe he just didn't care. I'm not sure how close they were. Then I remember him grabbing my leg to spin me a quarter-turn away from the bar so that I was facing him. And he spun to face me at the same time. I think he did it because it made it easier for him to put his hands on me. I'm not really sure what I wanted at that moment. Honestly, I don't know. I knew that I was craving the attention. I wanted to be wanted. I felt sexy to everyone except the person that I wanted to see me. And then I felt his hand squeeze at my thigh. Remember, I had a really short skirt on so basically he has skin-on-skin. Normally I wouldn't be ok with someone being this forward, but I was just in such a weird place."

Her breathing had increased and he could feel the blood pulsing in her hand. There was clearly a mix of anxiety and lustful pride around sharing this story. Her eyes were staying focused downward. "Over the next few minutes I felt John's hand moving its way up my inner thigh. Fuck. It was so hot. Like seriously - literally hot. I remember feeling like I was overheating at times. Just the idea of being like this in the middle of a crowded bar... I had never done anything like that before. And then I felt the tip of his fingers brushing lightly against my panties. I'm pretty sure I was wet at that point. Well, of course I was."

She looked up to him, almost as if asking for forgiveness. "It's not even that I wanted John. I didn't. Or I don't think I did. But the thought of him touching me, in the middle of all those people... of having his fingers practically inside of me... it was incredible. I know I was a mix of being totally aroused, and slutty, and ashamed... altogether. Again, I had never done anything like this before... let alone with a guy I had just met less than an hour earlier." He smiled, and brought his other hand over so that both of his hands were cupping her own. "It's fucking sexy," he reassured her, "there's nothing to feel bad about. I love you hon. Please, keep sharing."

His words emboldened her. She kept his gaze now, and placed her own hand over his, sandwiching his hands between her own. "So there I was, being felt-up by my date's friend at the bar. In front of all these people." It was at least the third time she had mentioned this - the exhibitionist aspect of this experience was clearly a draw for her. "Well, he wasn't fingering me or anything. Not yet, anyway. But he was definitely feeling me up. I remember his fingers rubbing more aggressively against me. I think he was a little rough, frankly, and wasn't even really paying attention to where my clit was. Or maybe he didn't care. I suppose I didn't really either. It wasn't about him. Or the actual sensations. It was about the moment. I couldn't believe no one had stopped us yet, but everyone seemed oblivious." She laughed, "I remember the bartender coming back over to check on our drinks but I was in a pretty euphoric state and just waved him off."

"And then," she paused, maintaining eye contact with him. "Then I felt his finger slip past the edge of my panties, into me." She exhaled, a long, pronounced exhale. "I couldn't believe it. Being finger-fucked by this guy right at the bar. And part of me wanted it. Not because of him. And not because of Steve. I just wanted it. I felt so... so sexy... so slutty. And it felt so fucking good to give into that... to allow myself to feel it. And I didn't feel shame or regret -- I just felt excited. Excited beyond belief."

Then her look became serious. "Then I saw Steve look over at the bar. And I remember wanting him to feel jealous. Wanting him to come over and claim me for himself. Again, I know... young... naive. I get it. But I'm just being honest. And you know what I did? I actually swiveled the stool around so that my legs were facing towards him, rather than sideways against the bar. God, I was being such a slut. John's hand had stayed on me even as I spun about. I think he was pretty committed at that point." Her more composed expression had given way to a chuckle as she talked about John's intentions. "And then I parted my legs all Sharon Stone like. I was looking directly at Steve. I knew he saw me. To this day I have no idea if he could see what John was doing because there were so many people. But I knew, at least, that he was seeing me. Watching me as his friend finger-fucked me."

They hadn't stopped looking at one another. He could tell how turned on she was -- her face and neck were flushed, and she was fidgeting with her hands. "Did you cum?", he asked. Again, no sense of judgment in his tone. "No," she answered, "I didn't cum. But still, it was exciting. Soooo fucking exciting."

"Anyway, that's where I stopped it. I was feeling all of these mixed emotions and I think I just became overwhelmed with all of it. I was incredibly turned-on, but not actually by John. Or by Steve, for that matter. I think I was turning myself on just by being there and allowing myself to feel what I was feeling. And I've been kind of carrying this with me and I guess never fully processed what it all means. There's the part of me that feels stronger for the experience - embracing my womanhood, my sexuality. Enlightened even. I guess it's one of my first memories of allowing my (what-you-call) inner-slut to be free. And then the other part of me definitely feels bad about it, especially afterwards when I was able to think more clearly. Anyway, John and I just went back to the table... we hung out for a bit longer and then I left, on my own, home."

---

The tone in her voice as she finished the story was decidedly more somber. "Hon... lover..." he began, "that is a beautiful story of you beginning to feel free to be yourself. I'm sorry that you associate it with anything other than your sexual expression. Remember, you were much younger then, and inexperienced. We have all gone through this growth, this learning what we feel, how to express that, and being able to accept parts of ourselves without feeling shame or judgement."

"Thank you. Thank you for sharing. That story is undeniably sexy. What I think," he paused, bringing his hand to her chin to lightly lift her face so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes... "what I think is we focus on the many, many positives of this experience. If you were to relive this moment now, what would you do? Because I think it would be incredibly hot to see another guy hitting on you... to see you getting worked up and then having me snatch you up, leaving the bar together, and fuck the hell out of each other when we get home... if not before." He smiled -- that little sideways smile that she loves.

She wasn't really expecting this. In truth, she wasn't sure what she was expecting. She had never shared this story with anyone before as she hadn't felt it was appropriate. But he was not only being supportive, he was actively excited about the story. "Fuck", she thought, "how hot is that?" And how freeing? They held each other's eyes in silence, each of their imaginations beginning to weave a new story. She blushed. The thought of it was definitely turning her on. Impulsively she reached down between her legs. Fuck... she was so wet. She couldn't say with certainty how long she had been wet as she was too preoccupied with telling her story. Was it from sharing the cum that was dripping out of her earlier? Was it reliving her story? Or was it the thought of her lover watching her being played with by some stranger at a bar? Or was it all of the above?

Her blush was turning a deeper hue as her imagination continued to build this fantastic story. He leaned in to kiss her, a kiss which, without hesitation, turned hungry. She reached her soaked fingers up to him and watched as he sucked them clean, one by one. Her fingers became intertwined in their kissing. And then he swung her stool around, and kneeled down on the kitchen floor. Sliding forward on the stool, she spread her legs for him, smiling coyly at the thought of her "Sharon Stone" moment at the bar. Her scent was intoxicating and he couldn't help but dive his tongue deeply inside her snatch, licking at the mix of her cum and his. She reached one hand behind his head, pulling him closer, and then threw her head back as he slid two fingers between her swollen lips. In her current state of hormone-induced intoxication, she was on the verge of orgasm way sooner than she had anticipated. Subconsciously her other hand reached behind his head and she was now forcing her pussy against his mouth. Hips involuntarily lifting from her seat, a slow-but-steady scream built, starting as a low moan, until she screamed aloud, her entire body convulsing around him.