The Prescient Pub

I arrive a little earlier than we had agreed, enter the pub and am quickly stopped by the bouncer who wants to see my ID. I flash him a quick smile. Well past the legal age and I'm still getting carded. I quietly snicker to myself as I go to retrieve my driver's license. I'm wearing exactly what you had requested... a cream, silk button-up blouse, a black & grey pin-striped pleated miniskirt, my shiny skin-tone thigh-hi stockings & black garter belt and knee-hi black boots. No panties. No bra. My hair is pulled up loosely with a single clip & I chose to impale simple sterling silver hoops into my bottom earholes. My normal studs pierce the other holes found there... I carefully pull up the edge of my skirt to reveal the top band of my hose and retrieve my ID for the burly man before me. He may have gotten a peek at more than I intended when I went to put my ID back in its spot, but I didn't tarry to find out....

I quickly scan & survey the environs to acclimate myself to the dimly-lit interior and then make my way through the throng of jibbering bots and posers to the bar. The place is much more crowded than I had anticipated. I know you will not be pleased. . . Or will you?

I ponder my drinking choices while I wait for the bartender to notice me at the end of the bar and a quick flash of a few of my favorite cocktails flash in my mind's eye... Cabernet or Merlot? No, not in this crowd, as my white silk blouse would soon be wearing it. Same goes for a mixed drink, so Myer's & Diet Coke is also out. My heart flutters and my palms become tacky as I envision what is to come tonight. Damn, a shot of Maker's Mark or Jack as a warm visceral jump-start would do nicely, but the bartender is in the weeds and I am impatient... I quickly glance back through the crowd to see if you have yet arrived and spy a metal bin filled with ice and bottles of various beers near the jukebox. I push and shove my petite frame through with "excuse me" and "coming through, thanks" until I make my way to the ditz manning the tub. I quickly rummage past the Buds and Miller Lites and settle on a Bass Ale? Nah, tonight it'll be... hmmm... the Newcastle. It's ice cold. Perfect. I pull out a $5 bill from the top of my stocking for the beer, ignore her look of judgment at the sight of my lingerie & throw a $1 into her tip bucket, turn around, and that's when my eyes lock on yours.

You're dressed to kill and I feel sucker-punched, massacred, merely by the sight of you. Black pants and a grey slight-interweave-patterned shirt. Is it also silk, like mine? From the distance, I can't tell. I can't see your feet, but you're wearing an Armani tie with a bright orange design, completely untied, just hanging around your neck & under the collar of your shirt... each side dangling there, like flames licking down across your chest. The top two buttons of your shirt are unfastened. You look uncharacteristically at ease in this burgeoning crowd as your left hand rests casually in your pant's pocket.
The suddenness of seeing you from across the pub catches me a little off-guard as I realize you arrived before me and have been patiently waiting... watching me the whole time. From your vantage point, you could easily see me when I first entered. Did you see me flash the bouncer, I wonder? You're leaning there, back to the wall, with your right leg bent and your right foot pressed against the brick wall that supports you. You nonchalantly take a sip of your beer, keeping your eyes locked on mine. Frozen in a sea of people, I take the opportunity to mirror your actions and take an initial taste of my ice-cold brew.

For a moment, time slows. My mouth salivates from the onslaught of chilled ale... The crowd is but a murky blur of colors in my peripheral vision... The conversations, laughter, and music from the jukebox blend into a incoherent drone of sound. Even the dim lights fade in my visual periphery and time slows even more still, as the room draws in on me and my eyes focus in on the lip of the bottle in your hand touching your bottom lip. In slow motion, I see the beer leave its glassy confines and like an amber tidal wave, hit your tongue. My mouth salivates more, as I envision myself as that beer, diving into your mouth. I can practically sense myself surfing over your tongue... I absent-mindedly lick the lip of the Newcastle bottle I hold in anticipation of one of your kisses, oblivious of those around me. . . You know what I'm thinking and give me the slightest of smurky-pursed-smiles as you lower the bottle from your mouth.

Out of nowhere, I am prematurely jolted out of my tunnel-visioned reverie by an elbow being sharply jabbed into my back. I turn to find a common scene in a place such as this... a guy helping a drunken girl as she recovers herself from nearly falling to the floor. He apologizes and motions to the two barstools they are leaving behind as they make their way through the crowd toward the exit. I jump on the opening... The stools are slightly out of your view, so you move further down the wall to watch as I sit my beer on the bar. You catch a glimpse of the top of my stockings & their garter clips on the backs of my thighs as I slowly climb atop one of the stools. I place my hand on the other, to stake my claim from other revelers at the same time some guy tries to move in on it. I pull it back from him with, "Excuse me, but that stool's already spoken for." He gives me a lackadaisical wave, apologizes and moves slightly away... returning to the conversation with the small group of friends standing with him.
My eyes scan across the pub & quickly find your new wall-perch. I motion to you with the index finger on my right hand while patting the barstool beside me with my left hand & mouth the words, "C'mere." You slowly shake your head, no.
I smile because I know what you want. You want to be teased. You want a show. You want to build the anticipation more. I dart my eyes around the crowd & back to you as if to say to you, "But, there's so many people!"
You simply give a little nod and smirk, before letting the last of your beer flow down your throat.
I take a deep breath and slowly spread my legs... repositioning myself atop my barstool. The world you're wanting to see? Concealed by my skirt. The heels of my boots are resting on the metal ring 3/4 down the stool. I reach back and grab my beer off the bar and imbibe nearly half of it, making my eyes water slightly in the process. With my vision momentarily blurred, I quickly rearrange my skirt... giving you the quickest flash of nirvana. The rush of air across my cunt in this public place makes me feel vulnerable, on display, deviously sneaky, and increasingly turned on. I take my bottle of Newcastle and sit it on the black leather of the stool between my legs. I look at it. I look back up & across at you. You're watching my beer. I slowly move the bottle closer to my heat. I can sense the coldness of the glass as it nears its destination. My ab and leg muscles tighten as I slide my other hand up my thigh and slightly lift my skirt, aware of but ignoring other eyes that may be witnesses, as mine are locked on yours... watching you watch me. The bottle barely touches my clit and my skin flinches from the sudden change in temperature. I inhale air through my teeth and with a slight wince, remove the glass from my heat.... only to quickly pull it into me a little more firmly, letting it rest there a little longer, until your gaze returns to meet mine. I pull the bottle out from between my lips and raise it to my other lips, close my legs & quickly lick the glass, receiving just the slightest taste of myself before quickly following it with a chug of ale.

I know you're out of beer, so I catch the bartender's attention, wave my bottle in the air with 2 fingers raised. I look back to you & you're making your way towards me. You can feel my gaze as you skillfully navigate a path through the crowd and at last, you are before me. You walk right up to my left leg, the intersection of your pant legs before my knee, and allow my knee to gently graze your inner thigh, your balls, your cock, before backing away and asking, "Excuse me, ma'am, but is this stool taken?"
I reply, "No sir, it's not. Would you care to join me?"
The guy who tried to snag the stool earlier overhears this, gives me a look and I just give him a shrug. He furrows his eyebrows and turns away.
As I turn to face the bar and retrieve our beers from the bartender, you have moved your stool as close to me as you can and still sit comfortably on it. I go to retrieve cash from my stocking-purse, but you're quicker and have already paid him.
I smile, "Why, thank-you. That's very kind of you."
You simply respond, "My pleasure," as you take a seated position with your back resting against the bar, facing the crowded pub. My heart races to be so close to you and I long to touch you. Instead, I reach for my fresh ale and suddenly feel your right hand gently rest on my thigh. The warmth emanates from your palm through my stocking and I swear I hear an audible sizzle from the contact. Did I just imagine it? You lean your face into me as your fingers grip my thigh... I wonder if you are going to kiss me, but you just move in close enough to breathe me in... to get a whiff of the essential oil I wear... to graze your lips across the side of my neck... to inhale my hair... and lean back against the bar again.
You take a sip of your beer with your free hand.
My breath pauses and my pulse quickens and then I inhale deeply as your hand slooowly glides across my silky stockings until you reach flesh: my upper inner thigh.
You sit your Newcastle back on the bar and lean into me. My eyes involuntarily roll into the back of my head and my eyelashes flutter as your fingers find my wetness just as you place your left hand on my back and lean in closer to whisper in my ear, "Don't make a sound. Not a sound. And sit still."
To others, we merely look like lovers having an intimate tête-a-tête, when in actuality you are now slowly finger-fucking me with your middle finger and teasing my clit with your thumb. It takes all of my restraint not to buck against your hand, or to force your hand to ride the waves coursing through my body. The thought crosses my mind that my juices are going to leave a puddle on this stool and suddenly, I don't care.
I want to kiss you so badly. I want to have your bottom lip between my teeth, gently nibbling it... outlining your lips with my tongue. I want my tongue to dance with yours. I place a hand on the bar to brace myself, close my eyes, suck my upper lip into my mouth, biting it, and focus my attention to the sensation of your slippery fingers tracing the contours of my most private folds. Just as I begin to wonder how much more of this sweet agony I can stand, your hand is abruptly gone. I open my eyes to see you walking away from me, beer in one hand, your pussy-drenched fingers in your mouth... heading towards a hallway that I know leads to the restrooms and another area of the pub. In one deft move, I hop off my roost, grab my beer, snag a cocktail napkin from the bar, and give my barstool a quick swipe. Moving as quickly as I can and trying to recapture my composure, I tap the fella nearby and hand him the napkin, "Here, this is for you. And so are the barstools. Enjoy."
I take off through the crowd to try to catch up with you, but you're now out of sight. Where did you go? Where are you hiding? I stall in the hallway, decide that you must have popped into the men's restroom, so I dart into the ladies' and take the opportunity to relieve myself, too. When I exit, I see a flash of orange in the backroom of the pub. You're racking balls at a pool table. I smile to myself as I casually saunter to the cue-stick rack and select one... I know we both suck at pool... but I also know looks can be deceiving and billiards is not the game we will be playing. Not a word is spoken and the game is on as you take the cue-stick in your hand, expertly chalk its tip & take the opening break shot, sinking a stripe and a solid. You pick stripes and on we go...
We take our turns for a shot at the balls.... and more.
At times, I bend over the pool table before you, affording you a view of stockings and garters... and when I reach further to get my shot, you see the slightest curve of my ass cheeks and the glistening wetness that remains on my shaven pussy. Or, you take a turn and purposely stroke your cue-stick, teasing me, before taking your shot. Or, we brush against each other at times... your hand darts up my skirt to caress my ass before moving on. Or my hand glances across your clothed cock as I reach for the chalk. Or you wave the fingers that fucked me earlier under your nose so I can see. On and on the game goes... until it becomes apparent that you're better at pool than I thought and before I know it, you're sinking the 8 ball and I've lost the game.
Without a word, you return your cue-stick to the stand and turn away, heading back towards the hallway. But, I'm onto you this time. This game of cat and mouse has gone on long enough and I must have you. Now. I quickly return my cue-stick and am soon on your heels. As soon as you enter the darkened hallway, I quicken my pace and pass by you. Before you know what's happened, I've turned around and pushed you back against the wall. "Excuse me, sir. Where do you think you're running off to this time?" You start to speak, but before a word escapes your lips, I stand on my tip-toes, place my index finger over your lips, come in close, and quietly say, "Shhhhhh." As your hand reaches my lower back, I take each end of your necktie into my hands & pull you into me for a long-awaited kiss. The pub disappears as you use the wall as a brace and crouch a lil lower... me standing between your legs. You pull me in even closer and we get lost in each other, in one of those kisses that takes your breath away. Deep, soft, lingering, gentle, rough, electric.

I gasp as you forcibly wrap your arms around my waist, clinching me tighter, rise & crash through the men's bathroom door, carrying me with you.
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You slam me up against the wall inside of the restroom; the animal stirs within you and makes his presence known. Our movements, an improvised carnal orchestration... Your hands on my breasts, squeezing my nipples throught the silk fabric.

Finally! Oh, how they've ached for your touch all night. You crouch down, pull up my skirt, hold me against the wall, and dart your tongue across my clit.... lapping me... your lips on mine... the heat from your mouth combined with mine, combustive... You rise, pick me up... my legs wrap around your waist... you hold me up. I fumble with your belt while I bite your neck, going through every "lock 'n key" to release the treasure trove hidden within. As I feverishly push your pants down, you suddenly push me further up the wall and command, "Look at me!"
"I'm looking", I manage to say through heavy breaths.
Again, you command, "Watch."
"Watching."... as you slowly lower me onto the divine phallic shrine I so love to worship. Like an Olympic diver, your cock glides into my hot pool.... making a most perfect splash. A most delicious fit. I hear the beast roar within you as you begin to fuck me harder against the wall, both of us watching your cock glistening in the flourescent lights as it withdraws from my tight cave, only to spelunk within again. My fingers grapple at your back... the silky feel of you through your gossamer shirt combined with the smell and aura of you, intoxicating... and I lose my bearings. Suddenly, you release your grip on me and my feet touch the ground. You command, "Against the sink counter. Now!" While I obey and face the mirror at the sink counter, I brace myself and watch you approach me in the reflection. You're so close behind me that I barely catch a glimpse of your cock when you approach. God, I want to see how hard and glistening you are. I want to touch you. I want to taste myself on you. I want to...... I make a motion to turn around, but you whip my skirt up, grab my bare hips and stop me.
"Oh shit!", escapes my lips, "I can't believe we're really doing this."
I wonder if we're alone, if someone is in one of the stalls. I glance to the door, knowing some strange man is going to walk in any minute.
My thoughts are caught short when you give my ass a resounding pop and the sound echoes throughout the stalls.
"MMmmmphf! Yes. Spank me. Again!", I order in a commanding voice. And you oblige with another smack to my ass that makes my legs want to buckle under me. I feel the head of your cock slide down across my asscrack. You're making a trail of our juices and soon your wet knob reaches my lil starfish and sends chills right up my spine. Through raspy breaths, I cry, "Ohhh... Fuck me, baby!" I look back up into the mirror to watch you behind me. Your attention is on my ass... the image of 2 black garter straps stretched across my cheeks and the shiny stockings they're clipped to.
"Oh godDAMN, at least touch my clit. Please.", I plead.
You guide your now throbbing shaft off my asshole until it threatens to sink into the silky depths of my pussy again.... but picks up even more cuntjuice and continues on its exploration... separating my folds... glancing my clit.. you smack your cock against my clit. Again. And again. And yet again... sending me into a frenzy.
Your cock becomes a spreader knife, as you cover my pussy and your glorious dick with both of our cream ... back & forth... from clit to asshole and I want you inside of me so bad that I can't stand it. No sooner am I wishing it, than it becomes reality. You delve deep into my velvety goodness, as it invites you in. My face flushes. You reach up and pull the clip out of my hair. My hair falls onto my shoulders and back and you grab a handfull of it between your fingers, never pausing as you drill me... gripping my ass... hitting a spot inside of me that can only be reached from this angle. It verges on painful as you slam me harder, but I know that's only the onslaught of an orgasm. The raw, sloshing sounds only intensify our primal need. You press a finger against and then inside my ass and I practically crack my head against the mirror as it sends me over the edge. An orgasm rushes out from my very core, gripping my body and makes me slam back against you even harder, faster. I can only make incoherent sounds at this point. My feet are off the ground as I kiss myself in the mirror, grasping the 2 faucets on the sinks that flank me for stability. My spasming pussy feels like it's milking you... and the sensation starts in your toes, rushing up your legs like you've been set ablaze...
"Fuck! I'm going to fill you with my cum", you bark.
"Oh no you don't", I retort... and deftly free myself from your grip, turn around and take your cock in my hand as the first stream of cum goes flying past me, hitting the mirror. None other escapes my lips though, as my mouth is on you, licking you, stroking you, devouring you... feeling the hot lava from your loins drench the back of my throat. You taste so sweet and you hold my hair and head in your hands, watching in the mirror as you fuck my mouth and I drain the last drop of nectar you can squirt for me. . . .

As our zeniths begin to decrescendo and I rise, pulling your pants up as I do... a giddy wave of laughter overcomes me. "OMG, We just fucked in a public bathroom! LOL... shit, should I clean up that cum off the mirror?"
"Fuck it", you respond.
"Right. lol"
A mischievous, devious glaze washes over my eyes as we exit the men's restroom and make our way arm-in-arm down the hallway.
"I'm not finished with you, sir. Where to next? Dancing? Or shall we head home, for a little candelit game of 'Catcher's Crouch'?"