Bar None by PrimalDual

Bar None by PrimalDual

Explore the enticing world of adult storytelling with Bar None's seductive sex story. Immerse yourself in a thrilling tale of passion and desire that will leave you captivated from start to finish.<br/>
The Lies You Tell the Others

(and the lies you tell yourself)

6 – Bar None

“My husband doesn’t satisfy me,” Michelle said with a crooked smile.

“Satisfy you? You mean?”

“In bed.”

The much younger man behind the bar shrugged at her bluntness. “Some men never had a good teacher, I guess,” he replied amiably, putting her used cocktail glass into the sink for a rinse. There were hardly any other customers at this hour of the morning, and boredom led him to go along with whatever topic this petite woman with the oversized, round eyeglasses wanted to discuss, as she began to consume her third drink in the past half hour.

“Oh, he knows how. He knows what my cootchie needs. He just won’t.”

“Lots women have that complaint.”

“It’s not that I don’t give him what *he* wants,” she groused. She was purposely blurring the distinction between the plumber she had slept with the previous two nights, Dennis, and her actual husband, or at least fiancé, Alben. The latter man actually did know how to coax orgasm after orgasm from her. She assumed the barkeeper wouldn’t know the difference anyway. Or care. And because it had been days since Alben had even touched her – at the moment she was even banished from his presence – the difference to her was moot.

“He should stop taking you for granted.”

“He likes blow jobs.” This was true of either Dennis or Alben.

“Yeah, I figured. Who doesn’t? What man, I mean.”

“But he won’t reciprocate.” Now she was speaking only of the overweight tradesman.

The keeper checked toward the left and then the right, to make sure none of the smattering of patrons was looking for a refill. “That’s a road that’ll lead to trouble for him, if you ask me.”

“Tell him, not me.”

“I would, if he was here.” He chuckled at the low likelihood of his actually telling a stranger such a thing; his dad had taught him that wise men don’t need advice and fools won’t heed it. “Where is he?”

“No idea,” she sighed. “Gambling, probably. I don’t expect to see him until dinnertime.” She smiled up at him expectantly, and added, “why do you ask, sweetheart?” using a term of endearment she ordinarily reserved for Alben.

“I wasn’t asking. Just making conversation.”

“To make sure he’s out of the way?”

He smiled a little shyly. “No. I didn’t mean it that way. It came out wrong.”

She already had been leaning forward but shifted her weight even more toward him. “Do *you* like blow jobs?” she asked conspiratorially.

“I already answered that. What do you think? Sure.”

“Do you eat a girl, if she promises to do the same for you?”

“Promises, promises,” he chuckled.

She returned his smile and looked at him appraisingly. “Boulou,” she mused, reading his name tag. “That’s a cute name. Do you have a girlfriend, Boulou?” She guessed he was college age, or a little older.

“Not really. Not at the moment.”

She paused again. “I bet you’re well hung.”

Now he downright giggled, nervously. But he quickly composed himself. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t say that.”

“I bet you are, and I bet your single status won’t last long.” He didn’t comment on this, and she went on, “tell me this, Boulou. Turn the question around. Would you eat a girl’s cootchie if she ate you first?”

He stepped aside to wash a glass that hadn’t needed his attention until then. “Are we talking figuratively? Are we talking speculatively?”

“As real as you want it to be.”

He glanced at the clock on the far wall, and then surprised her a little with his response. “I get off after 6.”

“I thought that might get your attention. Unfortunately, my husband and I have plans for after dinner.”

He recovered gracefully. “I’m just kidding around, you know. Same as you.”

“They do make you work long shifts here, don’t they?” It wasn’t even 11 o’clock yet.

“Not that long. But it’s a small crew and staff. We do a lot. Different things, different days. The day goes fast. I never get bored. And when I’m off my shift, it’s like I’m on vacation. Every day of the week.”

She lifted up slightly from her tall bar stool and leaned even farther forward for a better look at the work area he manned. “You don’t get off until 6,” she repeated after sitting back down. “Would you like to get off sooner?”

“They wouldn’t let me, I don’t think. They can only get you a sub if you’re in the infirmary.”

“Would you like to get off right now, Boulou?”

“Like I said. There’s only me to cover the bar until lunchtime,” he said.

“I mean, get *you* off.”

“Get me off,” he echoed, belatedly comprehending her actual meaning.

“Now. Right now.”

“I can’t leave the bar.” The proposition being explicitly sexual didn’t change the logistics for him.

“Wouldn’t have to.”

She got up from her seat and, without invitation, walked around the end of the bar to join him behind it. She spotted a cubby located underneath the counter, beside one of the sinks. She pushed a container of dirty dishes and tumblers aside, turned around, crouched, and backed into it, setting her bottom on the shelf and tucking herself in, practically out of sight.

He looked down at her, incredulous. “What are you doing?” he asked with a small laugh. “I’m not supposed to serve someone if they’re acting drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I’ve just been drinking. C’mere. Don’t draw attention. Just stand here. In front of me.”

“No way. Are you serious?”

“What, are you afraid? Come here,” she repeated.

He did so, and she reached up to caress his crotch. He immediately backpedaled. “Don’t do that. Someone will see.”

She giggled. “No they won’t. Unless you do *that*. Just act normal. Don’t give us away. Stand close.”

He stayed back. “No. What if somebody sees?”

“They won’t. And if they do, I’ll be more embarrassed than you. ‘What’s that girl doing down there?’, they’d ask. They don’t ask the same questions about a guy. But that’s what makes it exciting. Anyway they won’t see me. Why would they? I’m down here. They’re over there.”

“What if somebody wants a drink? It’s my job, you know.”

“It’s 10:30 a.m. in the morning. Who the hell comes in for a drink at 10:30 a.m. in the morning?”

“Well, you, for one.”

“Yeah. But you just said I’m a drunk.” She lifted her miniskirt for a moment, only a little way because of the cramped quarters, trying to flash her scraggly bush but in a way that was angled wrong for him to really get a good look.

“Ship’s full of drunks. They’ll start coming in soon.”

“Not right now. Not here. How many bars are on this boat, anyway? Come here, I said.” He moved up close to her again, and she resumed rubbing his crotch, She was pleased to discover he was already stiff under the loose fabric of his work trousers.

“It’s not a boat. They make sure we always say ‘ship.’ Never ‘boat.’ How many? I forget. But there’s a dozen people right here in this bar.” His attempt at small talk didn’t disguise the erotic one-sided physical interaction that had begun.

“And they all have their drinks. And nobody is sitting close to you at the bar.” She grasped his shaft gently through the pants fabric, and did more than merely caress now, gently but skillfully beginning to jerk him off through his pants. “Act like nothing’s happening, Boulou, and nobody will suspect.”

“Don’t make me actually, you know, uh, you know.”

“Do what?”

“In my pants.”

“Cum? You can say it, can’t you? Cum in your pants? No, I don’t want you to cum in your pants, either. I want to taste it.” She paused. “In my mouth.” She paused again, and repeated for emphasis, “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

“I can’t always control it. It might be too quick for that.”

“Sure you can. Just back up when it’s about to happen. That’s how I’ll know you’re ready.”

“And what happens when I’m ‘ready’?”

“Come right back here in front of me. Unzip, and I’ll blow you for real. Finish in my mouth, like you want.”

“And while you’re doing that, what if somebody walks into the bar for a drink? Or someone already here wants a refill?”

“Then you serve them. Duh. They can’t see down here if you stand really close. Just knock on the counter, and I’ll stop, and I’ll be really quiet.”

“But it’ll be obvious, if my pants are down.” Despite his stated misgivings, the younger man wasn’t actually doing anything to impede her stimulation, which had brought him to full erection and was rapidly bringing him close to full urgency now.

“You just unzip and pull it out for me. Don’t have to take your pants down. I can do it for you, actually.” She reached up a few inches and tried to pull his fly down herself.

He slapped her hand away. “No. I can’t just stand here with my, you know, my *thing* out.”

She pondered briefly, then put her hand back on his pants. “Don’t *do* that,” she directed.

“Do what?”

“That. What you just did. That’s what will make people notice. Do you play cards? Poker?”

“A little.”

“My husband loves to play poker. He says the key is acting the same, no matter what is in your hand.” She grasped his shaft a little more firmly, to emphasize the double entendre. “Keep your poker face. While you poke my face.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Somebody orders a drink, you give them one. Easy peasy.”

“Everything for mixing drinks is over there,” he said, pointing to his left.

She peered out and over. “Then clear out a space for me over there.”

“This is crazy.”

“The world’s crazy. Live a little, Boulou.”

Despite misgivings, he moved several feet over, just to the right of the beer taps, and to the left of the other sink, bringing a few items with him so that he would have the essential ingredients for a rum and cola, a daquiri, a mojito, or a margarita. He might have to use an incorrect glass, but he convinced himself that few cruise patrons would notice such a detail. Michelle then extricated herself from the tight squeeze under the bar, crawled over the sticky floor on hands and knees to the other location, and situated herself again. He nonchalantly moved in front of the sink and cleaned a couple of items, then moved to be in front of her.

He looked down. “This is crazy,” he said again, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah. I’m crazy,” she whispered back, stroking him anew with direct purpose and intent. “The good kind of crazy. Hold on.” She crawled back out of the shelf she was sitting on, deftly removed her t-shirt, and dropped it on the floor in front of her, revealing a pair of tiny nipples and not much more.