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Last Call Birthday Whore

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Amateur

“And what do you do for a living?” she asked as she casually propped an elbow up on the bar.

“I do data-base consulting work for several small companies in town,” he replied.

“Computers…fascinating,” she said. She smiled coyly at him while absent-mindedly fingering the long-stemmed wine glass.

“So, other than talking to strangers at bars, what exactly do you do?” he asked.

“Oh, this and that,” she answered, knowing it was best to give a vague reply.

“Hmm….sort of an evasive answer, don’t you think?” He smiled and watched her facial expressions.

“Evasive?—no. Vague, perhaps.” She raised the inner corner of her eyebrow and flashed him a smile along with a flirty little tilt of the head. “My interests are sort of on a ‘need to know’ basis.”

“Well then, I suppose I need to know. What exactly are your interests?” He slid his left hand onto the bar and ran his index finger lightly across the inside of her elbow.

“Let’s cut to the chase. Do you mean, ‘Am I interested in leaving this bar with you tonight?'” She grinned. “Honestly, you seem like a really nice guy, and I’ve enjoyed chatting with you, but no—I don’t see us leaving together, if that is what you are hinting.”

“Well, then obviously you don’t really believe I’m that nice of a guy,” he grinned and leaned toward her just a bit.

“You are nice enough,” she said standing to her feet. “I’m just not looking for a one nighter.” She slowly moved to stand behind his left shoulder and leaned over to whisper into his ear. “But if I were looking, you would definitely be leaving here lucky tonight,” she purred softly. As she turned to walk away she made sure the tips of her breasts brushed against his arm.

He shifted slightly, leaning back to prolong the feeling of her tight tits against him as they slid across the back of his shoulder. He turned around and watched as she sauntered slowly toward the left-hand side of the room. “Damn little tease,” he muttered to himself as he eyed the soft sway of her hips and felt the throbbing ache between his legs sharpen. She sat down at an empty table in the far corner of the smoky bar. Still he couldn’t help but grin as he turned back around and dipped his hand into the pretzel bowl next to him.

She asked for a glass of red wine and sat with her legs crossed at the knee, smoothing the fabric of her blue silk dress while she waited for the server to return with her drink. She scanned the crowd slowly and looked at each man seated near the bar. Mr. Computer Consultant would have made a pretty hot catch for the night if she were into that sort of thing. No harm in a little fun flirtation though, as long as she didn’t let things get out of hand. She certainly had no intention of going home on the arm of a stranger tonight for some quick little rut on a lumpy couch and a 2 a.m. cab ride home alone.

The waitress plopped her drink onto the faux-wood table top and folded a paper cocktail napkin beside it. She lifted the glass to her lips. As she swallowed the first sip, a tall gentleman pulled out a chair at her table and sat down across from her.

“Mind if I sit bahis firmaları here?” he asked after the fact.

“And what if I said, ‘yes, I mind?'”

“Now, why in the world would you want to do that?”

“And why in the world would you want to sit down at my table?” she asked bluntly.

“How else are you going to get to know what a wonderful guy I am unless I sit down and we talk?” He smiled and leaned against the back of his chair.

He was certainly self-confident, perhaps even somewhat arrogant. He had classic good looks: chiseled features, smoky-blue eyes, and a head full of dark hair with just a bit of graying at the temples. “Okay, so I am going to discover that you are a wonderful guy. What else?” she asked, taking the bait.

“You might just discover that I am going to change your world.”

She laughed openly. Her red shoulder-length curls bounced as she threw her head back. “Wow. Now that is a line if I have ever heard one.”

He smiled smugly. “I don’t use lines. I shoot straight and honest.” He stood up, picked up his chair and dropped it into place next to her. “I see what I want and I go for it,” he replied as he sat back down.

Her expression grew serious. “And what exactly is it that you want?”

His eyes locked with hers and he leaned over slightly, draping his arm across her thigh. With one smooth movement he pushed his open hand over her legs, uncrossing them and then he slid his hand underneath the slit in her dress that exposed her left thigh.

She gasped when she realized what he had done. His palm flattened against the top of her naked thigh and his warm hand slid straight up between her legs without hesitation. She instinctively clamped her hips shut and glared at him. She couldn’t believe what was happening. This guy had waltzed over to her table, uninvited, and was actually mauling her in public. She opened her mouth to protest as his hand pressed in tighter, pushed against her resistance and clamped down firmly between her legs.

She reached out with both hands and grabbed his arm. “I’ll have you know that I’m not some cheap buffet you can just walk up and sample.” She struggled to push his arm away as his middle finger wiggled underneath the satiny edge of her panties and slid into her. He was startled at how wet she was and how easily his finger stroked back and forth across her hot little slit. He ignored her rising protests and continued to slide his finger deeper.

Her mouth literally dropped open in shock. She tried to think of something to say to get him to stop. Instead she found herself acutely aware of how firm his finger was and how the back-and-forth dragging motion of it caused her whole body to tingle. Instead of continuing the useless protest, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes and enjoyed the ripples of pleasure that radiated from between her legs. She found herself pulling her knees further apart to accommodate more of this dark-haired man’s skilled hand.

He smiled when he saw the gap between her legs widen. He had never been so bold before and had no idea how this woman would respond to such a blatant sensual kaçak iddaa come-on. He had watched her at the bar all night as she talked to the guys that hit on her. She had smiled, laughed, and flirted, but had walked away from every single one of them. He hoped the end result for him would be different. Now he sat here in the corner of this dank little bar with his finger sliding back and forth against her pulsing twat.

He slid two fingers into her moistness and pushed them deep into her wet hole. He watched her shoulders tighten and her back stiffen. She tossed that beautiful red head back and let out a soft slow moan. He slid both fingers out and curved them to press firmly against her clitoris. Then he smoothly pushed them down and back into her wetness. Again and again he pulled them out and pressed them back, a little faster with each pass. After several repetitions of increasing speed, he felt her hips jerk and she gasped, squeezing her closed eyelids even tighter together. The bulge in his pants was painfully tight now. It strained against his cotton underwear and begged to be freed.

He leaned over and kissed her on the neck while his fingers continued to slide and tug faster and faster. He breathed in the smell of her and heard the jagged little gasps that vibrated from her lips. He thought about how wet and tight she was and he swallowed hard. The ache between his legs tortured him. His fingers shoved deeply into her as he thought about what it would feel like to ram his hard stiff cock into her tight wet hole.

She moaned louder now. She heard him sigh and felt him press his warm lips into the smoothness of her neck. She still could not wrap her mind around the fact that she was sitting in this public place and this man was…”Oh,” she sighed. His fingers pushed and pumped against her pelvic bone and she strained to grind her clit against his knuckles. She breathed in a sharp deep breath and exhaled swift ragged puffs of air. Her hips undulated to the age-old rhythm of sensuous raw pleasure. She fought against the urge to thrash and buck her hips for fear of drawing attention to what was happening between her legs underneath the shabby bar-room table.

He picked up the pace of his thrusting fingers and bent his middle thumb knuckle so the edge of it smacked against her clit each time his fingers plunged deep inside her. She pressed the top of her shoulders hard against the back of the chair and shoved her hips up into the air to push against his hand. He steadied the back of her chair with his free hand and thrust harder and faster with the other. She arched her back and panted with each breath as she resisted the urge to let out a guttural growl.

He noticed that the guy she had been talking with earlier at the bar had turned around and obviously recognized what was happening. His lips were parted and his eyes were locked on the facial expressions of the woman as she moaned and arched in unrequited release.

She tightened her back even more and her upper thighs bumped against the underside of the table in a quick steady rhythm for five or six hard thrusts. She was oblivious to the kaçak bahis low tapping sound her thrusts made. “Whump. Whump. Whump.” With one last deep push of fingers and upward shove of thighs, her entire body spasmed with the release of coiled passion. Her body shuddered. She whimpered and laid her limp head against the broad shoulders of the man who had indeed just changed her world. He slid his hand out from under her dress and sat quietly while she fought to regain control of her heaving body.

After a few moments the man spoke. “How would you like to get out here and go someplace private?” he asked.

“What did you have in mind?” her voice quivered.

“There is a hotel just a block or so down the street.”

“A hotel? Why don’t we just go to your place?” There. She’d said it. She couldn’t believe she’d actually said it, but she had.

“Um,” he hesitated. “My place is no good. You know I told you I shoot straight and honest? Well, I’m married.”

“What? You’re married? I should have known. So, what is it you want from me, Mr. ‘I’m married but not wearing my wedding band’?”

“Let me explain,” he said. “Today is my birthday. My wife asked me what I wanted as a gift and I told her I wanted to live out a fantasy of mine…that I wanted to go to a bar and pick up a woman. So, that is what I’m doing here.”

“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You told your wife you wanted to pick up some woman at a bar to take to a hotel for the night as your last-call birthday whore?”

“Basically, yes,” he said with a grin.

“And you’re telling me she agreed to that?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes. Her only stipulations were that I had to come to this bar and that I couldn’t bring the woman back to our house.”

“So you are telling me that you are going to ‘change my world’ by asking me to go to a cheap hotel for the night to be your whore…”

“It isn’t a cheap hotel. Actually, it is a very nice hotel, but yes, that is the basic idea. My wife told me I could pick any one woman from the bar and take her to a hotel. I sat here watching you drink and flirt all night and I decided you were the woman I wanted to ask to help me fulfill my birthday fantasy.”

She just stared him.

“So, what do you say?” he asked tentatively.

She thought about how crazy this whole thing was. She thought about how hot he’d just made her. She thought about what it would be like to go for it; to give in, to let go, and give this man the birthday of a lifetime. She realized he was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. “Yes,” she said simply.

A broad smile spread across his face. He held out a hand and helped her out of the chair. As they started to leave he noticed the guy at the bar staring at him. They exchanged glances and the guy gave a quick shake of his head as if to say, “Lucky bastard.”

They reached the exit door and she quickly spun around and faced him. “What about the kids?” she asked.

“I got a babysitter for the night,” he replied.

“But, honey, how did you know that I was going to be at the bar?” she asked.

“Because it couldn’t have been a good fantasy if my wife wasn’t a part of it,” he grinned.

“I’ll go to the hotel with you,” she said with a wink, “but only if you remember that tonight I’m not your wife…I’m your last call birthday whore.”

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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