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I walked up the stairs to the bar area on the second level of the restaurant and scanned the room. It was relatively early and the room wasn’t crowded, so seating was plentiful. I immediately noticed the attractive brunette seated at the base of the L-shaped bar. I picked a stool that was a seat away from her, around the corner of the bar. It had a convenient view of the TV the game was on and moved toward it.

The bartender got my drink order and I settled back and checked the game score. That was looking good, so I checked the brunette. That was good, too. She was wearing a black light cotton casual dress with spaghetti straps which crossed in the back. It was cut low enough in front that it was obvious there was no bra underneath. Well, that and the fact that her nipples were prominently breaking up the otherwise smooth, round lines of an impressive set of tits. The dress had ridden half way up her thighs as she sat on the stool, which drew my attention to her crossed knee and the hand that rested there which belonged to the guy seated on the stool on her far side. That made things more interesting.

My bourbon rocks arrived and I thanked the bartender, asked her to open me I tab and proceeded to watch the game and eavesdrop a bit. It quickly became apparent that the flirtation going on was two way, if a bit more aggressive on one side, and fairly artful. I looked back to the game just in time to see a third down throw deep down the sideline skip off the fingertips of a Dawgs receiver, killing the drive and eliciting a fairly loud “Dammit!” from yours truly. Drawing the attention of several patrons. Including the couple to my right.

Their heads turned toward me in unison and I uttered a somewhat sheepish, “Sorry. I get a little excited when the Dawgs are playing.”

The brunette’s eyes brightened mischievously and she said, “No worries. You seem upset.” She patted the stool between us, “Why don’t you sit here? I promise I won’t bite.”

“Hmmm, that’s unfortunate.”

“Well, maybe later, if you play your cards right,” as she broke into a smile.

“Hi, Liz. Hope you haven’t been bored.”

“Hi, honey! How was the flight? This is David. He’s been nice enough to keep me company and scare off the vultures.”

I stood, stepped around the corner, extended my hand behind Liz and said, “Hi, David. Ray. Nice to meet you. Hope Liz hasn’t been annoying you with constant football questions. She’s just started watching the sport.”

David had to stand and reach behind Liz to return the handshake, which forced him to finally remove his had from her knee. “So, she really was meeting someone. I was beginning to think that was just a line to chase me off. Hi, nice to meet you, sort of…”

“Understood,” I grinned, hopefully disarmingly. “She can be a bit of a flirt. But, if it helps, only with men she finds attractive. And Liz gets daring when she’s confident she has an out.”

“Yeah, I thought I was breaking her down for a minute there!” David replied in a surprisingly upbeat manner. Maybe he was a pretty good guy after all.

I turned to Liz as she stretched to wrap her arms around my neck and we shared a fairly chaste, for us, welcome home kiss. “You got checked in no problem, I guess? No bags, I see,” she observed.

“Yep. Piece of cake,” I replied. “Dropped my bags in the room and washed the air travel off my face. How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to attract the attention of a married guy with bad breath and a very cute young man with obvious mommy issues before David showed up to run interference for me. I owe him huge!” locking eyes with him briefly and smiling.

I turned to David, “She’ll probably want to buy your drinks. I’ve been trying to convince her to do something more meaningful for months and keep striking out.”

He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow and hesitantly replied, “Um, okayyyy…….”

A little background, at this point. Liz and I had been dating over a year. We’d both been previously married. I had been divorced for 17 years. I’m six feet tall, 170 lbs. and in decent shape but no gym rat. I wear my hair buzzed short so it’s hard to pick out the little gray that has creeped in. There had been a couple of serious, long term girlfriends, but the relationships had ended for various reasons. There were also multiple short- term things that had run their course much more quickly. Some with hard feelings, most without. Liz was 2 years out of a 25+ year marriage when we met and still figuring out the dating world that she dropped into that was so different than the one we both had known in high school and college. We connected on a popular dating app (doesn’t everyone these days), got together at the bar of a trendy new restaurant near her house and were both pleasantly surprised. Liz is 56 and I am 57, but we could both pass for 10-15 years younger pretty easily. Good genes are a wonderful thing. She is a petite 5’5″ with shoulder length brown hair. Her ass is small but well-rounded, perfect for skinny jeans, and firm from lots of walking bahis firmaları and somewhat frequent trips to the Y. I’m not really a boob man, but hers are spectacular, I have to say. They are natural D cups that are unusually perky, especially for a woman in her mid-fifties with two kids. And nipples that are pink, prominent and very sensitive. She loves to have them played with roughly. They are amazing. Motherhood means that her midsection is different than in her early twenties when she spent her summers in a crocheted bikini, but the tummy is flat and the waist accentuates her curves. She has a girl next door attractiveness that matches her natural sweetness. And belies the fact that she has become a sexual freak.

I grabbed my jacket off the back of my old seat and draped over the stool next to Liz. “Very cute outfit, babe. You look very comfortable. A little cold though.”

“Oh, is it that obvious?” she asked with feigned innocence and a grin. “You always tell me I have the boobs of a 30-year-old, so I thought I’d take advantage of my good fortune and give you a cheap thrill at the same time. Two birds with one stone and all…”

“Well, I certainly appreciate the effort! It’s a great look. I think David likes it, too.”

“Oh, most definitely!” her new friend interjected right on cue. “I’m going back to my friends for a bit and give you guys a chance to catch up.”

“Don’t be gone all night. I want to finish our conversation!” Liz assured him as he rose from his stool.

“Count on it, lady.”

As David wandered out of earshot and back to his 2 friends ensconced at a table in the middle of the room, I said, “Really do like the dress. Is it new?”

“You just like that I’m not wearing a bra. I know you like the idea, so I thought I’d get something I could pull it off with. It looks good, huh? Not TOO trashy?”

“Not a bit, babe. It’s sexy as hell. You should show them off occasionally. Those always perky nips are just an added bonus for the public. I hope you got that in at least two more colors!”

“If you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll get to find out,” she smirked. “So, the flight was good. No problems? Hope you’re not too worn out. I plan on keeping you up late…”

“Good. I was hoping you’d feel that way. Be ashamed to waste a perfectly good hotel bed.” Liz reached her hands around my neck and pulled me in for a kiss which a few of the more prudish patrons may have been uncomfortable with. She’s a great kisser and likes to do it whenever she feels like. A very endearing quality, in my humble opinion.

She pulled back, looked me in the eyes very seriously and said, “My pussy is so wet right now. I’ve been thinking about your cock all week.”

I grinned and replied, “Well that could create and embarrassing situation with your new dress because I know you aren’t wearing any underpants.”

“Yes, you seem to have broken me of that nasty habit months ago. But I know how to preserve my dress,” she said lightly as she raised up off the seat of the stool and flipped her dress out from under, sitting her bare ass on the wood.

Early in our dating career, during the course of our flirty daily work texting, I had asked her on one occasion to remove her panties and put them in her desk drawer for the rest of the day, expecting refusal. I didn’t receive a reply for several minutes and took that for a no. Until my phone buzzed and I saw a simple “done” on the screen. We played that game a few more times until the reply started being “not wearing any”. She claims she likes the feel now, but I think she likes the naughtiness of going commando to her job shaping the minds of the next generation of leaders of our great country. At any rate, I started having to get more creative with my reindeer games.

“Good girl. I love the way your mind works.”

“I’m a genius. Probably leave a puddle in the seat, but we don’t have to clean it, so…” she smiled to me mischievously. “My drink’s almost gone. More bourbon, mister, if you want to get really lucky tonight.”

I circled my finger at the bartender to order another round and said, “I stopped and got you a present on the way to the airport.”

“Ooooh, I love your presents! Do tell! What’re you doing?”

Instead of telling, I had grabbed her purse from the hook between our seats that a lot of places have under the lip of the bar these days. I opened it up, retrieved a bag from the pocket of my coat, placed it inside, closed the flap and placed it in her lap.

Liz lifted the flap, opened the drawstring on the bag, glanced at me with a cocked brow and said, “What is that? Wait. Ohhhh! Yay! I like the size, hun! It’s bigger than my normal daily wear one.”

“I felt like it was time for an upgrade. Thought you’d like it.”

“You know me well, mister. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I desperately need to excuse myself to the lady’s room.”

“Of course you do. I would be severely disappointed if you didn’t, babe.”

“As I said, you know me well…” and she slid off the seat and moved quickly off to the kaçak iddaa restrooms. I sipped my drink and split my attention between the game and what was going on in the room as I awaited her return. The place was still not too busy, maybe half full, and not much going. Other than occasional glances my way and shared comments from David and his friends, nothing attention getting. Pretty much an ideal atmosphere for our little evening getaway and adventure.

After 5 minutes or so, Liz emerged from the hallway entrance under the restrooms sign. She had a bemused look on her slightly flushed face and a bit of a bounce in her walk. As she walked down the length of the bar, she shared a look and smile with her new friend as she passed his table. Liz came around the corner of the bar, moved past me and climbed onto her stool, making sure to flip her dress out of the way again so her bare ass rested on the seat. She half turned towards me with her feet on the rungs on either side of the leg of her barstool and fixed me with a smile which could only be described as…sultry. Already knowing the answer, I smirked as I asked, “So, how do you like it?”

“Oh my god,” she breathed, “my pussy is gushing. I could feel it dripping down my thighs on the way out here. I’m surprised I didn’t leave a trail.”

“So, that’s a big yes.”

“Yes, indeed it is, sir. It’s girthier than the other one, so there’s much more pressure. But it’s about the same length so it still sits well. And I’m getting some wonderful little jolts when I shift in my seat. Such a nice surprise!”

In case you haven’t guessed by now, the gift in the bag was a new butt plug (and a cute little bottle of lube). It was made of black silicone, a little over 3.5 inches long and 1.5 in diameter at the widest point. A nice step up from the cute purple one she had been using.

Again, as a result of our reindeer games, butt plugs are a new part of Liz’s life which she has found she likes to experience in public forums. Don’t know what to tell you. Take one attractive divorcee with normal desires coming out of a 25+ year, mostly sexually frustrating marriage, mix with a middle-aged man in decent shape with a very inventive sexual appetite, shake and you get an extremely receptive, appropriately submissive, slut. I keep pushing the sexual envelope with Liz and she keeps saying “Okay!”. I just count my blessings and push forward…

“Such a slut…”

“Ummm, guilty!”

We switched our conversation to how our respective weeks had gone with work and kid stuff as we sipped our bourbon. As we caught up, Liz occasionally squirmed a bit in her seat and crossed and re-crossed her legs a couple of times. The flush in her cheeks remained and the sparkle in her eyes seemed to brighten. But her description of her week remained remarkably coherent, except for a couple of extended pauses. She really is a trooper.

As she finished a story about a particularly difficult set of parents, I said, “Unbelievable. I don’t know how you do it without exploding, babe.” I picked up my drink and took a sip, then looked Liz in the eye and said, “Show me that wet pussy, slut.”

Liz’s eyes widened slightly as she replied, “Really?! Here?!” and shifted her eyes to check the room. The three tables lined up on the window behind us were empty. And the bar blocked the view of all the tables which were occupied and the other patrons at the bar itself. No one would know what was going on but the two of us. For now…

“Yes, here. Now. Do it,” I stated, in my brook no argument voice.

Liz folded her hands in her lap and glanced down at them. When she looked back up, her eyebrow was cocked and eyes bright as she replied, “Yes, sir.” She uncrossed her knees and placed her feet again on either side of the leg of the stool. Then she grasped the hem of her dress and dragged it slowly up her thighs, shifting her eyes back and forth from mine to the rest of the room, until it was neatly bunched at her waist. Her vagina was now fully exposed, engorged and glistening, with labia spread open. Slightly surprisingly, her normally tightly trimmed bush had been modified down to a quarter sized square just above her clit.

“Oh my god. This is so hott…” she breathed. We had gotten into the habit of spelling hot with two t’s during our sexting, to the point that it was the first choice of autocorrect. Screw you Steve Jobs.

“I like the soul patch. Good girl.”

“Soul patch! Oh my god, that’s hilarious!” she giggled. “I saw it in a video the other night, sir. I thought you’d like it,” getting back into character. “Should I cover myself now, sir?”

“Nope. Leave your cunt exposed to the room like a good slut. I’ll let you know when to cover it.”

“Understood, sir,” and then we started talking about my trip and a couple of restaurants I had tried, some of the challenges with the current client, a few amusing things that had occurred, etc. Liz kept her knees narrowly separated but continued to shift in her seat, serving to grind on the plug in her ass and create even more kaçak bahis stimulation. I looked down and noticed that her clit was now peeking out, matching her nipples which were straining against the cotton of her dress.

“You really do like the new toy, huh?” I asked, completely rhetorically.

“Yes! I feel so much fuller. More pressure and I can feel it in my g-spot when I shift sometimes. Am I making a puddle? I’m kind of embarrassed to look. Unladylike and all,” Liz giggled.

“Not yet but I’m sure you’ll leave plenty of evidence when you get up, slut.” I leaned in for a kiss but stopped short and whispered, “I can smell you though. It’s making my cock so hard…” Then she pulled me in for a long kiss, pushing her tongue past my lips and rolling it slowly around mine.

I pulled away and said, “Taste yourself.”

Liz looked me in the eye, said, “Yes, sir,” and placed the palm of her right hand low on her tummy. She slid her middle and ring fingers down over her protruding clit and into her slit, stroking them up and down two, three, four times, coating them in her juices. On the last downstroke, she flinched a bit as she plunged them upward into her opening, thrusting them in several times. After the last thrust, Liz shuddered a bit, withdrew her fingers completely and glanced around the room to see if anyone was observing as she reached across to brush them lightly over my lips. Her eyes hesitated briefly in David’s direction, making me wonder if he saw what was happening, but I didn’t ask. She pulled the fingers back, placed them between her lips, sucking and licking them clean. My cock was raging against the zipper of my jeans.

“The restrooms here are surprisingly nice,” she said, offhandedly.

“Oh, really?”

“Yep. Unisex. Five or six of them, not too busy right now. Nice gray tile. Black walls. Dim lighting. Pedestal sinks. Full length mirrors, you know so a girl can check her appearance properly. Good locks.”

“I thought you wanted a stall, though.”

“This might be better for my comfort level,” Liz observed. “The first time, anyway…” Then she fixed me with an intense stare with those sparkling eyes.

“Go. Do it. Now,” I said in my best command voice.

Liz said, “Yes, sir,” bounced off her stool, grabbed her purse and reached up for a quick kiss, resting her right hand on my hard cock. She broke the kiss, gave me a firm squeeze, then brushed past me and around the corner of the bar. She moved towards the restrooms with a purpose, locking eyes briefly with David as she passed his table and disappeared down the hallway.

I picked up my drink, took a sip and glanced toward David, who nodded slightly my way, and then turned my attention to the tv. The Dawgs were winning handily, so I didn’t pay much attention to the game as I contemplated the direction the evening was going. After a couple of minutes, a text came through. “Got one. Second door on the left.”

I replied, “Be there in a minute.” I placed coasters on the top of our drinks and slid off my stool, leaving my jacket draped over the back. I stepped around the bar and strode toward the restrooms, studiously avoiding eye contact with David and his friends. Entering the hall, I hesitated briefly to identify the door and then moved to it. I started to knock, then reached for the knob instead. It was unlocked and turned in my grasp with a solid click. I opened the door and quickly stepped in letting it close behind me. I reached back and locked it.

The room was about half again as large as a handicapped stall, plenty big enough for purposes, including ours on this evening. The toilet was in the middle of the wall to the left with a full-length mirror hung on the wall to the far side. Directly opposite the mirror was the pedestal sink, which Liz was leaning back against with each hand propped on the edge of the basin, looking in my direction expectantly. The only light came from a double antiqued glass fixture over the sink with two low wattage Edison bulbs installed.

I took two steps and was beside her left hip. Wrapping my fingers in her hair, I jerked her head back lightly and leaned down to kiss her exposed throat. As I kissed and nipped up and down, my free hand came up to her right breast. Taking her protruding nipple between thumb and forefinger, I began to roughly squeeze and roll it through the cotton fabric, just the way she liked it and bringing the first low moans from deep in her throat.

Liz’s left hand went to my crotch and she started rubbing and squeezing my hard, throbbing cock. Still holding her throat exposed, I released her nipple and grabbed the strap of her dress and slid it down her right arm, exposing her breast fully. I dragged my lips from her throat, down her chest, over the curve of her breast and to her now exposed eraser-like nipple. As I licked, sucked and, finally, lightly bit her nub, Liz, through her rising moans, uttered the first word either of us had spoken. “Harder…”

I obliged, biting down until I expected a plea to stop, which never came. I scraped my teeth up and over the tip and gave it a final suck and lick. Then I pulled harder on the back of her hair and commanded, “On your knees, slut.” As she sank to the floor, I instructed, “Show me the other tit, cunt.”

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