Randi the Bartender

The rockabilly blared in the pool hall. There were the sounds of conversation, the clacking of the cue and stripes or solids, the clinging of glasses and life in general. Here the pros tried to hone their skills, the lonely tried to make themselves less so, the drinkers tried to forget and the community gathered in sweet communion.

The bartender Randi exuded sex and sexuality. In her late 30's, a single mom struggling to make ends meet but happy where she was, and looks that were made for extracting tips from guys. Her blonde-ish hair in a simple ponytail tonight, she had prepared for business. She wore her extremely tight black tank top and cutoff shorts that accentuated her legs. Tonight it was about listening, communion and revelry. In a lot of ways she had the absolute best job. She never worked a day in her life.

Work was great. She spent a lot of time with her customers. She loved listening to the stories, experiencing her different dynamics and being the catalyst to ease the pain for those who needed it. There was one man who stood out. A bearded redheaded man who seemed really sweet. She liked the gray in his beard and blue eyes.

This man had the absolute worst luck though. He bought a drink for every solo lady at the bar. His attempts at talking with them were okay, but they just didn't click. He was appropriate, respectful and funny. It's just more complicated than that sometimes. It does not always equal success.

As the clock dwindled down, more patrons scampered. She arranged rides and Ubers and one by one they went out to the places they would be from, to paraphrase Semisonic. It was just her left and the patron, who she learned was named Justin.

"Last call, hun," she offered.

"Thank you, love." The honorifics flowed freely with them tonight.

Looking at his bottomless drink, she offered, "Why don't I get you a water?"

"Yes, and may I buy a water for my favorite bartender?" He chuckled as she responded with a giggle.

The two talked for what seemed an eternity. He had a certain humble charm to him. She asked him to describe his conversations with the women, how he approached them, and they diagnosed the encounters. He actually had been really sweet and sincere. It just wasn't what was needed here.

"I'm going to go lock up," she relayed. As Justin reached for his keys, she corrected, "You're not going anywhere. I mean, of course, unless you want to."

Patiently, he waited for her task to complete and then ran to her and kissed her passionately. Metaphorically thirsty from the conversation, he slid her shorts off and lifted her up to the bar. The red sparkly thong she was wearing, he was too flustered to take it off, sliding it over to the side.

This is not how she had expected the night to go. And she rarely ever slept with a patron. Don't mix business with pleasure, she would always sly smile as she said that to a drunken patron. It wasn't a hard rule. It was just... wise. That being said, having your shift end getting your pussy eaten by a sweet, bearded man signifies a pretty good workday.

He knew all the right places to touch and dear god, that tongue, she screamed in her head. Where did he get this tongue from? How had she never seen it before? Or noticed it? Through her pussy she heard a muffled, "you don't have to be quiet, you know." Laughing, she let go and gave feedback like she they were the only two in the universe. After she was spent, he encouraged, muffled, in her still, "I think we have one more in us, don't we, baby girl?"

Seduced from subspace, she responded, "Yes daddy." With the last one released, they paused a moment.

"Can I tell you something Randi?" he offered.

"Of course, Justin"

"When I see you all the time, I always want to know what's behind that tank top. You've got the prettiest face, impeccable hair, best personality, and, now I can officially say, tastiest pussy. But those look so epic. I've always wanted to see them."

Smiling, she lifted her tank top. She was a little nervous before him, but also confident at what she was packing. The black bra, accentuated her body even more. Picking his jaw off the floor, he asked, "May I?"

He unhooked the bra and began let it fall to the floor. With a deep sincerity, he looked her directly in the eyes and said, "You look so stunningly beautiful." He lifted up her hand to kiss it and then traced it slowly kiss by kiss up her shoulder until he reached her lips.

"Justin....?"

"Yes, Randi?"

"My tits are out and they are not getting the attention they deserve."

As a gentleman he lifted her up and then led her to a table. He accessed his praise kink thesaurus to find words to describe her breasts. With every word he used, he would kiss them. "Beautiful (kiss), magnificent (kiss), marvelous (kiss), matchless (kiss)." So he continued and continued until she was in a space of perpetual bliss. If ever a pair of breasts were made for worship, these were. Her areolas were rather large and that just meant to him more space to kiss. Her body was toned, a lovely tan color. And her tattoos were so sexy.

During one of his kisses, she pulled him close and said, "Put your cock in my mouth." She slid her head over the edge. Dutifully, he unbuckled, unzipped and before you can say, "Tastes great, less filling," she had transformed his cock into a longneck. While aching for it inside her, she wanted to enjoy it down her throat. Down as far as he could go in her throat, he growled, "I want your pussy."

Obeying, she sat on the edge, waiting for him. He teased, rubbing it along her shaved pubic area and then the lips. He rubbed the clit with his tip. Now, as feral she was, he entered her. As he took his control she let go and released herself to the enjoyment of her savage thrusts. This was not the way she had envisioned this shift going but she was satisfied nonetheless. Like the stream of a tap, so being inside her caused the gentle flow of his cock's juices.

She chuckled. "Don't hate me. But no tip necessary. You gave me that and more tonight."