The Bike Club Pub

I returned to work on Monday, and for the first time, I was scheduled to work a split shift -- the lunch shift from 11:00 to 2:00 and the dinner shift from 5:00 to 8:00. Lauren wasn't working, but Kayla was there, and when she first saw me, she gave me a knowing glance. I realized immediately that anything I did with or said to Lauren was going to get back to Kayla. I got the feeling that she was fully aware of my dining and dashing in her apartment in the wee hours of Sunday morning!

"Hey, Tom! How was your weekend?" she questioned with a devious tone.

"It was okay. How about yours?"

Before she could answer, a tall, handsome, athletic-looking man that I guessed was in his mid-30s came down the stairs from the second level. He was carrying an antique bicycle. When he saw the two of us standing by the bar, he leaned the bike against the wall, and approached Kayla and me with a big grin.

"Hi, Kayla," he said first, smiling her way. Then he turned to me, "You must be Tom Hitchens," he said reaching out a big hand. "I'm John Symons."

"John's the owner," Kayla explained.

"Oh, nice to meet you, John," I said shaking his hand. Considering he was my boss, I figured I should make some small talk. "You've got a nice place here. How long have you owned it?"

"Let's see," he said thinking, "I guess it's been five years now. I bought it after I sold Hector's. I owned that place for over ten years. I bought Hector's six months after I graduated from State," he reminisced. Hector's was a huge club that catered exclusively to college students. It didn't have a liquor license and only served beer, so it was the first choice for a lot of the younger college crowd. Hector's booked bands and had a huge room that held thousands of people. It used to be a really hopping place, but it seemed to have gone downhill of late. I hadn't been there for at least two or three years.

"Wow, you owned Hector's? I spent an awful lot of time in that place myself!" I realized I must have started going there right after John had sold it.

"I think everyone did. I went there all the time when I was in school here. It's been an institution in this town for at least 25 years. Back in the 60s when State won the NCAA Championship, Sports Illustrated ran a huge story that talked all about Hector's. They had a big celebration for the team in that bar. Of course, that was before my time...." He sort of trailed off into another deep reminiscence. Then, just as quickly, he shook himself back to the present.

"You must have been making a decent amount of money at Hector's. Why did you end up selling it?"

"Yeah, I did make some money; enough to buy this place. But I eventually want to go into politics, and I didn't think I would look as respectable if I owned a huge bar that catered to drunken college students. I figured a restaurant, even one that sells liquor makes me look more upstanding, like I'm more civically responsible."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Let's hope, so! Well, Tom, I better get back to my work, but it was nice meeting you. Everyone tells me you're doing a fine job. Keep up the good work!" He turned and went back to his bike, picked it up and walked to the corner of the front seating area, where a ladder stood. Tom was hanging the bike from the ceiling, suspended by two chains. It was another addition to the collection of antique bikes that he had hanging throughout the restaurant.

I found out later that John was an avid cyclist. He was really into bicycles, was an ardent collector, and had started the first bike club in town many years ago, so it was natural that when he bought this restaurant, he had decided on a bike theme.

I got to know John a little over the next few years. He was a very interesting man and a guy that I really appreciated as an employer. He made working at The Bike Club Pub fun, and he recognized the wisdom in encouraging his employees to be patrons of the establishment as well as workers. In so doing, all of us attracted our own friends into the place, and business over the next few months was incredible. John told me a couple of months later that he was making more money that he ever had.

A month or so after I started, I decided to ask about full-time hours. Since I despised Todd and seemed to get along well with John, I went over Todd's head, and posed my question directly to John. I explained to him that I wasn't taking any classes this semester and had decided to take a break from school. I told him I really liked working at the pub, but that I really needed to work full-time and wondered if there was a possibility of that now that business had picked up so much.

"Well, I don't know if you know this, Tom, but both Todd and Mark are paid salaries, and I expect that beyond their managerial duties, they will both bartend during their shifts. So, while I love the work you've been doing, I don't know if there are any extra hours available. Business has been really good, and I know we need more waitresses, but I don't know about bartenders. I'll have to talk to Todd." I certainly didn't expect that Todd was going to do me any favors, so I thought I would try another approach with John.

"What if I were to wait tables?" I asked hopefully.

John paused for a bit. I could tell he was not ready for my question. "Well, we've never had anyone but women wait tables here." Then, I could tell that he knew he had just said something wrong. Only hiring women as the wait staff would actually be illegal, and even though I was certainly not trying to catch John in some Title VII trap, I could tell he knew that I was aware of his misstep.

He paused for a moment. "On the other hand, maybe having some young guys waiting tables would bring a whole new clientele into the restaurant. Maybe we've been eliminating half of the potential customers in hiring only good-looking, young women." This statement was even more incriminating, but it seemed to be opening the door for me.

"I can't afford to pay your insurance or offer you other benefits, Tom. Are you okay with that?"

"I didn't expect any of that, John. I just need more hours. Working 40 hours a week and getting some tips would be enough for me, I think."

"You know, Tom, the more I think about this, the better I like it. Besides, you wait tables sometimes when you're bartending anyway, right?"

"Of course! All the time! Once the waitresses clock out at the end of their lunch shifts, I almost always take the rest of the tables until we stop serving lunch at 2:00. I've waited on a lot of tables."

"Okay. I'm going to talk to Todd about this. Maybe there are other current employees that want to go full-time, both male and female, and if we can do all of the additional hiring from within, I think that's a better way to go. I've always said, if I have to compare two otherwise equal candidates, and one is known and the other is unknown, I am always going to choose the one who's known. You know what you're getting that way."

"Thank you, John. I hope you'll look back on this decision as a good move."

By the end of the week, I was waiting tables 15 or 20 hours each week, and when I did, I was often working side by side with Lauren. On the following Saturday night, along with Mark and another bartender Greg Heiberger, Lauren and I closed the place.

After the last of the customers had left, Mark locked the front door, and several of us gathered at our usual table in front of the bar for after work drinks. Kayla and a couple of other waitresses were there, along with Mark, Greg, and myself, as well as Zoey, the head chef and her husband. After we had had two or three drinks, Lauren asked me if I would give her another ride home. Kayla was going over to Mark's and that left her, she pointed out, without a ride. Of course I said yes.

When we got to her house, I stopped the car and turned off the engine. Lauren didn't move, nor did she say anything. "Aren't you going to invite me inside?" I asked, trying to put her on the spot.

She gave me a kind of caustic grin. "Are you going to get me all hot and bothered again and then leave me with my pants down?"

"If I do, are you going tell every Tom, Dick, and Kayla about it?"

"Oh, that's right you wanted to keep everything our little secret, right?"

"I'm not that secretive, but I don't kiss and tell. Besides, I get the feeling that you think you know me a whole lot better than you do."

"Okay, well how about you come upstairs, and I can get to know you a little bit better?"

"Okay."

"But here's the rule, Tom. If you're coming upstairs with me, you're not leaving until morning. Understood?"

"Understood."

We got out of the Honda, and then climbed the fire escape to the back door. I learned something that night. The back door to Lauren's apartment was never locked.

Over the next year and a half, I turned into a real "Tomcat," -- her obvious pun to describe me -- sneaking up that fire escape night after night, to find Lauren in bed. I would slip between the sheets, wake her up by rubbing my hard cock against her warm sex, and then fuck her silly. She never once refused me sex, even if I hadn't seen her earlier that night or hadn't talked to her for days.

That is what our relationship turned into, but that was a few months down the road. This night I did no sneaking. We got inside the apartment, and before we even had a chance to sit down on the couch, Lauren and I were kissing passionately, while she started stroking my cock through my jeans. I was getting hard fast. Then, she fell to her knees, and unbuckled my pants, pulled down my zipper, and dropped my jeans and my boxer briefs to my ankles. I stood before her with my semi-erect penis pointing at her beautiful face.

She grabbed me with one hand, and holding my cock so it was pointing toward the ceiling, she began to kiss and lick my balls. After a minute or so, she began to run her tongue up the backside of my erection, until it reached my mushroom head. Then, she pulled my cock back down and wrapped her lips around my shaft, first concentrating her mouth play on my head, and then expanding her sucking so that she was stroking me with her lips, accepting more and more of my shaft into her mouth and throat with each subsequent repetition.

By the time her lips first made contact with my pubic bone, I was rock hard. Then, she grasped the base of my cock really tightly, and as she sucked me, she began stroking my shaft vigorously, sliding her hand to the head of my cock, then back down it to the base, while her lips slid down too until they bottomed out at her fist wrapped tightly around my girth.

After a few minutes, Lauren leaned back to admire her handiwork for the first time. "Fuck, I knew you had a big cock! Jesus, look at this thing! You must have almost eight inches here, and a thick eight inches at that! Oh fuck, I want this fat thing in my pussy!"

"First, let me eat you, okay? I want to make you cum first before I fuck you. You have such a sweet, sexy pussy, and love the way you smell and taste."

"Oh god, yes! You can make me cum really fast when you eat me! I wanted to tell you how good you eat pussy, but you were out of here so fast that night that I never got a chance to compliment you for my fucking incredible orgasm! I want another one, right now!"

"Can we go to your bedroom? We're going to be at this for awhile, so we might as well get comfortable."

"Absolutely, but let's get these pants off you so you don't trip on them on our way there. Besides, I want to see you naked." Though I was standing where I could be viewed from the street through the front window, I removed my shoes, socks, jeans, and boxer briefs, and while I did, Lauren unbuttoned my shirt. Now I stood before her completely naked with a raging hard-on. She grasped me by my stiffness and led me down the hall and into her bedroom.

When I got there, I was kind of surprised. Her bedroom was huge, nearly twice the size of the living room. It was so big that she was able to fit a king-sized bed into it comfortably. Considering how tiny she was, I was really amazed at the size of her bed.

We reached the side of it, and I took Lauren in my arms and began to smother her with kisses. Then, I began to undress her. Off came her blouse, then her skirt. Now she stood before me wearing a satin, periwinkle bra and thong with black lace trim, along with a matching garter belt that stretched southward to her black nylons. On her feet she wore black high heels.

I peeled back the covers of the bed and pushed Lauren down onto it. I slid her slender ass into the middle of the huge mattress and crawled between her legs, and then pushing the backs of her thighs down to the bed with my hands, I put my face between them. Her nylon clad legs were pointing straight up, and her tiny, purple thong was stretched tightly between her ass cheeks, barely covering her lush, brown bush.

Then, I kissed, licked, and nibbled my way around that little thong, and Lauren began moaning quietly. I began blowing my hot breath directly on her thong, and I could feel the moisture from her pussy as well as my breath dampening the satin fabric. Next, I slipped my fingers around the spaghetti straps and pulled it up her short, slender legs and off.

I started the same way I had a month or so ago, by spreading her pussy lips wide open with two fingers from each of my hands, and then running my flat tongue back and forth over her wide-open slit. After a few minutes, Lauren was generating a good deal of arousal and her moans of pleasure became louder and more impassioned. Then, I narrowed my tongue into a dagger, and began to tongue fuck her now gushing pussy. Each of my tongue thrusts elicited a spray of fluids, so that her ass cheeks, thighs, and bush were soon drenched in her pungent juices.

Then, I gave my tongue a rest, instead replacing it with my fingers. Since Lauren was pretty well spread open already, I decided she could handle three at the same time. So, making a triangle of my index, middle, and ring fingers, I inserted them slowly into her sopping pussy, producing a long, low groan, "Oooooooohhhh!" Then, once I was fully inside her, I began to push down with my fingers, eliciting another sensuous response. "Oh my god, that fucking fills me up!" she groaned.

But I knew that even mildly stimulating Lauren's clit was the thing that would get her off the quickest. So now I enveloped the entire upper portion of her sex with my open mouth, covering her entire clitoral hood with my wet lips, and then using just the tip of my tongue, I began swirling it all over her long slender jacket. When I did, she began writhing, grinding herself against my face.

Lauren moved her hands to the bed now, and I could feel her grab handfuls of the sheets between her fists. She was moaning rhythmically now, "Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck... oohh fuckk... ooohhh fuckkk... oooohhhh fuckkkk... ooooohhhhh fuckkkkk!"

I could feel with my tongue that her slippery, little clitoris was engorged and had emerged from its protective hood. So I began lashing it with the tip of my tongue, and Lauren went nuts. She announced her climax with unabashed screams of passion, "oh... oh... oh... oh... oh... oohh... oohh... oohh... oohh... oohh... ooohhh... ooohhh... ooohhh... ooohhh... ooohhh... oooohhhh... oooohhhh... oooohhhh... oooohhhh... oooohhhh... cumming... I'm cumming.... Oooohhhh... I'm fucking cumming!"

I tried to lift my head from her pussy so I could watch her orgasm, but she gripped me tightly with her thighs and held me there until her shaking subsided. Then, as she slowly relaxed her muscles, I extricated myself from her short, but powerful legs and crawled on top of her. She started kissing me again, really passionately, but nothing gets me quite as excited as a woman who is orgasming, and so my cock was rock hard and needed a pussy to fuck.

Before Lauren had really had a chance to recover from her climax, I bent her knees and lifted her legs from the bed so that both of her high heels rested flat on the mattress. Then, kneeling between her legs, I lifted her hips so that her pussy was level with my engorged penis, and grasping her by those hips, I pulled her toward my erection. Now, only her upper back, shoulders, and head rested on the bed, and her pussy was elevated a good foot above her fat breasts.

When I had the head of my cock poised at entrance to her frothy slit, I thrust myself into Lauren in one fell swoop. "Ohmagod," she screamed, "Jesus Christ you are so fucking big!" And then I began to stroke into her rhythmically, increasing my cadence slowly but surely, until after four or five minutes, I was slamming her really hard.

She was spread out in front of me now, looking so sensuous with her blonde hair spilling around her face and onto the mattress, as she rolled her head from side to side. She had an expression of passionate resignation etched across her face; a look that I would come to know was a precursor to another climax.

Then, I let go of her hips with one hand so that I could pull her fat tits out of her purple bra cups. After I had freed them from their satin and lace prisons, I reached out to gently tweak her nipples, and each one hardened to my touch and became engorged.

I grabbed Lauren again by her hips and began to thrust with even greater fury than before. The root of my throbbing dick was banging against her clit on each thrust now, and every so often when she was fully impaled on my length, I would swivel my hips in a circular motion as if I was stirring her martini with my fat swizzle stick. When I did so, my soaking wet pubic hair was brushing against her own bush which was even more drenched now than mine.

I was fast approaching my orgasm, and I realized that I hadn't asked Lauren if she used birth control. So I tried to prepare her for the inevitable, "I'm close to cumming," I said quietly. She was too absorbed in her own passion to understand that in my inimitable way, I was asking a question. She was in another state now, moaning a kind of mantra, "Oh... ugh... ah... cuma... ughh... ohh... ahh... oohhh... cummaa... ughhh... aahhh... oohhh... ughhhh... aaahhh... cuma... ccuummaa... cccuuummmaaa...!"

Lauren was clearly approaching another climax of her own, and I knew I had to make clear to her my dilemma. So really loudly and insistently I asked, "Lauren, can I cum inside you? I'm close. I'm really close."

Now she understood, and as she emerged from her altered state, she started screaming obscene commands at me again, "Oh yeah, keep fucking me with your fat cock. Yeah, fuck me with that fat cock! I want your fucking cum deep in my pussy! Blow a huge load inside me! I want to feel you coat my insides with your hot cum!"

Her words put us both over the edge, and as her legs began quaking in my grasp, my rocket started shooting its payload deep inside Lauren's hot, wet tunnel. "Ooooooohhhh!" I moaned. At the same time, I could feel her pussy spasming on my shaft. It was clenching and unclenching around me, as I deposited jet after milky jet in her silky slit.

And once she realized I was shooting inside her at the same time that she was reaching her own peak, she let loose with another barrage of blue language, "Oh god, I'm cumming again! I'm cumming again! Oh yeah, I can feel you shooting inside me while I'm cumming! I can feel your thick cock throbbing inside me! Oh Jesus, keep shooting your load in me! I'm still cumming! I'm still cumming! I'm still cumming!"

After 30 seconds or so, both of our spasms slowed and eventually ceased. I dropped Lauren's legs to the bed, and my semi-erect cock, slipped from her pussy, dripping hot cum onto her taut stomach. Then, I collapsed next to her on the bed and she pulled my face to her plump lips, kissing me with great relish. "Oh my god," I said, nearly out of breath and out of my mind with passion, "that was incredibly hot!"