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There was also the thought of his experience and skill, how much he probably desired going down on me, how skilled he was with his tongue and lips and hands and fingers. As I hung up the phone I noticed Ron scrolling through his phone. The heat I'd felt throughout my body for the past hour was taking over. I walked around the bar and walked toward him as he sat on a barstool. And how much he paid attention to all the little things about me, from the way I wore my hair to the way I walked, and how those things about my persona and my body fueled his fire. I even liked the thought that I had a boyfriend who was completely in the dark about my older gentleman. They sat near the back and anytime I sort of scanned that end of the room they seemed to be having a very deep conversation. " "I'm impressed that you even sort of remembered me," he said. I said sure, that I was only waiting around another 30 minutes or so before closing a little early. I saw his eyes linger on the tattoo sneaking down my arm from underneath the sleeve of my shirt. I had a gun and a couple other weapons at my disposal if the situation called for it, of course, and the police station was half a block away. "Or maybe she was just a really good actress," he said with a laugh. As I watched Danny head down the street I noticed a man approaching. If the light had been brighter he might have been able to tell I wasn't wearing a bra. "So," I said, blowing the last big cloud of smoke into the air," did you leave something behind when you were here earlier? But I had a good feeling about him for some reason, that he was just a regular guy. "Your recommendation." I poured him a pint and told him a little about the brewery and this particular beer. "I'm Ron, by the way," he said, extending his hand across the bar. I went about some routine closing duties as we talked. "I was not in the best shape at that time, physically or mentally." My mind was in overdrive. And sometimes I might have said something suggestive but I never really pushed it too far. And of course there were thoughts that he truly knew how to fuck and that I so looked forward to the times we could spend together fully exploring, fully pushing our limits. I would care for my boyfriend deeply, but he would never know that he was not the most important or the best sexual outlet for my mind, body and soul. Such thoughts about betraying a boyfriend were cruel, of course. It was like they were the only ones not really enjoying themselves. "It looked like you were pretty busy." "Well, it wasn't too bad. We small-talked for a few moments and he revealed he and his wife were in town to attend a wedding and had stayed an extra night. He was dressed super casual, just a T-shirt and shorts and running shoes, and it was obvious he had a pretty nice body. I fantasized that we made his penis the center of our universe, the instrument that gave both of us so much pleasure and was to be honored and cherished and perhaps even worshipped. Perhaps we arranged to take the occasional trip together where no one knew us. And fantasizing that I was irresistible and constantly arousing to men I came in contact with was extremely conceited. Numbers were running through my mind about his potential age but I couldn't decide. "I was going to close a little early but why don't you come in for a drink since you walked all the way over here." "Are you sure? "I don't want to create more work for you." "It's no problem at all," I said. cum gushing from his hard penis and splashing on the shower glass. There were plenty of people out walking because it was a nice night, and the late movie had apparently just wrapped up as people were leaving the little theater a couple blocks away. There had only been a couple of times I'd felt any inkling of trouble since I started bartending, and both times it was because two guys who had maybe been overserved decided to fight. I don't know if he noticed that I turned off the "open" sign and had closed the blinds and casually locked the front door, which had only a small window at the very top. It was exciting to be having such an intimate conversation with a stranger. And I didn't really feel like the conversation was inappropriate at all. "Surely you must know other women or have had opportunities with other women." "I have," he said. I still believed in my marriage at the time." "So do you just ...
Helping him explore his deepest secret desires, even if they were a little kinky. They're kinda like a second family." "That has to make the job so much better," he said. "This has been a really great job." He looked around the bar. There was a pause as we looked into one another's eyes. I was surprised to find myself getting just a little flustered by that thought, so I decided to "go check on Danny" again. I took a few moments and then re-emerged from the back. "Hooked up with someone, I guess would be the term," he said. Was I actually getting horny in the presence of this stranger? It was clear he was in no hurry to leave, even though he reminded me a couple of times to kick him out whenever I was ready. "To satisfy your cravings." Another wave of heat rushed through my body. And, yes, I'd had more than one masturbatory fantasy about something happening. I'm really enjoying your company and the conversation." He seemed to be deliberating an answer. I saw his eyes take in my small boobs, erect nipples, flat tummy.
Then I always remembered their wedding rings, felt guilty, and turned my mind elsewhere. His expression was mostly unchanged but he was clearly blushing. First in a series of reflections about my experiences -- some real, some imagined: It was almost closing time and I decided to step outside for a few minutes. I'd known the owners, a married couple, for quite some time and I'd even hung out at their bar on a somewhat consistent basis.