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The Bartender
by Spenser (pilot2nav@yahoo.com)

***

A young wife tells the story of her attempt to help 
with the family finances by working as a bartender. She 
becomes excited by the attention and she receives while 
behind the bar and that excitement leads her down a 
sexually destructive path. (MF, exh, reluc, drugs)

***

I am writing this for Paul. I don't know if he will 
ever see and read this but if he does I hope it helps 
him understand me and what happened to us. Perhaps 
he'll find it in his heart to forgive.

My name is Julie. I met Paul when I was twenty years 
old. I was working as a waitress at a family 
restaurant. Paul would sometimes stop by for lunch. He 
was four years older than me, tall with an athletic 
build, a deep tan, brown hair with light blue eyes. He 
had the most gentle and sincere smile, the kind that 
girls just fall for, and I did. He worked for his 
father's landscape business and was in the process of 
taking it over when we met. 

I was kind of surprised he was interested in me. I 
always thought of myself as rather plain, and the 
waitressing uniform I wore only emphasized my 
plainness. I had shoulder-length dishwater blond hair. 
I've been told I have a pretty face and beautiful hazel 
eyes. But I've always been tall and rather gangly, legs 
that always seemed too long and a butt that was too 
small. It took forever for my boobs to arrive and when 
they did they exploded into a D cup that seemed overly 
large for my thin frame.  But the thing that bothered 
me most about my body were my nipples. 

I've always had prominent nipples, even when I had no 
boobs at all. They grow to almost an inch long when 
excited (I've measured them) and that happens far too 
often! I used to wear snug fitting bras because anytime 
my nipples would rub against something they would grow 
long and hard. I can clearly remember one of the first 
times this happened. It involved a baby doll nightie I 
received as a teen from my parents. It was powder blue 
and made of a sheer, light fabric and I loved it. 

I would sleep in it every night, until I started 
noticing a strange feeling when I wore it. My nipples 
would tingle and grow when they brushed against the 
fabric. Eventually my heart would start to race and my 
breath got short. And I would get the oddest sensation 
between my legs. I now know those feelings were the 
beginnings of an orgasm for me. But at the time the 
feelings – while exciting, were a bit scary and they 
bothered me. 

Another problem with the nightie involved the looks I 
was getting when I wore it. I have two older brothers 
and they treated me like normal brothers would. But I 
can distinctly remember one evening standing in front 
of the refrigerator while getting something to drink 
before going to bed. One of my brothers came into the 
kitchen talking to me, but stopped cold when he saw me. 
I couldn't figure out what his problem was. I looked at 
his face and noticed his eyes glued to my chest. I 
think he was embarrassed, he was trying to talk but 
wasn't saying anything. 

Finally he turned and left the room. I couldn't 
understand what had happened until I looked down at my 
chest. You could clearly see both my nipples poking 
hard against the fabric of my nightie, like little 
fingers reaching out. Also, with the strong light from 
the refrigerator you could see completely through my 
nightie to the swell of my developing breasts. 
Realizing this, I instinctively cupped my hand over my 
left tit, and the strangest thing happened. Between the 
feeling of my fingers touching my nipple and the 
thought of my brother accidentally seeing my exposed 
breast, a shockwave rolled through my body all the way 
down to my crotch. 

I stood there, unconsciously pulling on my elongated 
nipple until I felt my knees start to buckle. I had my 
first mini-orgasm right there. The feeling was so 
unexpected and quick I accidentally dropped the drink I 
was holding in my other hand and ran to my room. 

I'd like to tell you that I ran to my room and madly 
masturbated, but I didn't. I was so surprised and 
shocked by the feeling I didn't know what to do. I do 
remember putting my hands inside my panties and feeling 
the moisture that had developed there. And I did spend 
some time pulling on my nipples, enjoying the wonderful 
sensation. And I can remember how warm, naughty and 
excited I felt by the whole experience. But I did 
nothing more.

Unfortunately that experience and the stares I was 
starting to get from men made me nervous about what was 
happening to my body. Growing up in a conservative 
household, I thought it wasn't right to be enjoying the 
attention and the stimulation I was receiving. So, I 
began to dress in clothes that concealed my body, 
especially my growing breasts and legs. I wasn't a 
prude, but I started to feel "wrong" about the 
sensations I would get when I was stimulated and I 
tried to suppress them.

So I grew up one of those girls that was "there, but 
never noticed"; dressing frumpy and conservative. And, 
other than my mother worrying that I would never get 
married and die and old maid, I was alright with that. 
I knew I would find 'Mr. Right', and I did, Paul. He 
was so nice and kind and loving to me. We dated for 
just over a year and then married. And, yes Paul, you 
married a virgin.

We started off on what was certain to be a 'fairy tale' 
life. Paul had just taken over the landscaping business 
and things seemed to be going well. We bought a small 
house, I quit my waitressing job and I spent my time 
making our house a home. We talked about starting a 
family and planning a nursery. But just as things were 
getting off to a good start, they started going bad. 
During tax time Paul discovered his father was not so 
good at keeping the books. It turned out the company 
owed a lot in back taxes and the overall expenses were 
so high the company was actually running in the red. 
Obviously changes had to be made or the company was 
going to go out of business. Paul cut his salary to 
almost nothing and we decided I had to go back to work. 

When you are in the food service business you always 
hear about job opportunities through word of mouth and 
one of my old waitress friends told me about a 
bartending job near my home. She knew the owner and put 
in a good word for me. Next thing I knew I had a job as 
a bartender. 

This bar had been there a while. It used to be a 
building by itself but it was later attached to a nice 
hotel that was built next to it. So, on one end of the 
building was the main bar. Behind the bar was a long 
hallway that attached to another, smaller bar located 
in the hotel. In the hallway were a flight of stairs 
that lead up to Phil's office. Phil was the manager. 

Phil was in his late thirties and had owned the bar 
before it was absorbed by the hotel. He was a very nice 
guy, a little overweight, salt-and pepper hair and a 
nice smile. He was married to Marsha who I rarely saw. 
He knew I had little experience mixing drinks, but 
hired me anyway. The money promised to be good and I 
was glad for the work. 

Things started off well at the job. The main bar served 
mostly college students from the local university and 
they mostly drank beer, which was easy. The clients on 
the hotel side were older and it was hard to learn to 
make the cocktails they ordered, but I did my best. And 
while the money was alright, it wasn't quite what I had 
hoped for or what Paul and I really needed to survive.  
Of course, the real money is in the tips and either by 
accident or necessity I started learning ways to make 
more.

The main bar was bar was "U" shaped with a 
substantially raised floor. Phil had installed a lot of 
lights behind and under the counter in keeping with the 
bars atmosphere. People working behind the bar were 
very visible to the customers. Unlike my waitressing 
job there were no uniforms. I could wear whatever I 
wanted and I chose to wear jeans and sweat shirts. 
However, one evening, when I had run out of clean 
clothes to wear, I went to the back of my closet and 
pulled out an old skirt. 

I hadn't worn this skirt in a while and never to work.  
It wasn't sexy, a synthetic fabric with a hem coming to 
about three inches above my knee, but when I wore it to 
work it was impossible for me to ignore that I was 
being noticed more than usual. And that fact was made 
clear when I went up to Phil's office to collect my tip 
money. It was more than I had received before. This 
realization marked the beginning of my first change in 
attitude. 

I couldn't believe that simply wearing a skirt would 
make such a difference in tip money so I started to 
experiment. Some days I would wear jeans to work and 
other days I would wear a skirt. The difference was 
undeniable. But I couldn't understand what it was the 
guys were looking at, what could they see? Then one 
time, as I was leaning into one of the floor coolers 
for a beer I snuck a peek over my shoulder and spied 
three guys watching my skirt rise up the back of my 
legs. 

I couldn't believe it, surely they couldn't see too 
much. But there they were, clearly enjoying the view 
and the thought of them taking covert looks at my legs 
brought that old thrill back to my loins. 

From that moment I almost never wore pants to work 
again. I pulled out all my skirts and dresses and made 
them my work wardrobe. I spent time modifying several 
of them, raising the hem here, cutting a slit there. I 
was worried Paul would object to my change in work 
attire. He did make a few comments but he never 
objected. And at work my wardrobe change was definitely 
noticed! 

There seemed to be more and more guys hanging out in 
groups at the bar. They would openly flirt with me and 
tell me how great my legs looked. That attention was 
definitely a blessing and a curse.  I was starting to 
truly enjoy the attention and found myself leading men 
on. I would deliberately bend deep at the waist when 
reaching into the coolers, extending my leg back so my 
skirt would ride high on my thigh, sometimes exposing 
some of my cheeks. 

Many times I would sit on the refrigerator with my leg 
up on the lower shelf and my legs slightly parted while 
I chatted with the guys; their eyes straining to see up 
the opening in my skirt. And when I wiped down the bar 
I would make sure I scrubbed with such vigor that my 
ass would sway back and forth. The tips I now got at 
work were more than I could have imagined. I was making 
twice as much as I did waitressing and I was having so 
much – naughty fun. 

Of course, the customers were not the only ones 
noticing the new me, Phil had noticed too. I would 
catch him glancing at me, always with a twinkle in his 
eye and a smile on his face. I don't know how many 
times I did this before realizing what was happening, 
but Phil had started following me whenever I would 
climb the stairs to the offices. He was just far enough 
behind me so he could gaze at my legs and up my skirt.  

I can't believe what a thrill I got when I finally 
realized what he was doing. The thought of him looking 
up my skirt as I climbed the stairs excited me so much! 
I would find myself sticking my ass further out hoping 
he would see more, teasing him. After leaving his 
office I would find myself so wet between my legs I 
couldn't help but put my hand inside my panties and 
touch myself. This is when I started to masturbate at 
work. 

I would get so excited from all the attention that I 
would either sneak into the stock room or into my car 
and thrust my hands down my panties. I would put my two 
fingers around my clit and gently rub myself until I 
came, which was usually pretty quick. Prior to this I 
had hardly masturbated, but now I was addicted to it. I 
loved the attention I was getting behind the bar and I 
loved the pleasure I was able to give myself. And I 
loved the money. It was all so good. 

Then, on one particularly busy night at the bar, Phil 
came up to me. He stood very close as I prepared a 
drink. His shoulder was touching mine, his arm was 
around my back and his hand was on the flank of my ass. 

"You seem to be quite a hit with the customers these 
days," he told me. "Business is good." 

"I know," I said, "and it's fun."

"You know you could be making even more in tips if you 
wanted."

"How is that?" I asked.

Phil then raised his hand and tugged at the bottom of 
my sweater. "You're only giving them half the show." He 
gave me a quick smile and walked away. 

That comment actually took me off guard. I was 
surprised! I was indignant. How dare Phil make such a 
suggestion! What was he trying to say? Who did he think 
I was? I was a professional bartender, not some kind of 
show girl! I'm not an exhibitionist... or perhaps, 
maybe - maybe I was. 

I wasn't sure what to make of Phil's comment but the 
implication gave me pause. I started thinking about my 
actions. Maybe I should stop, tone it down. Go back to 
plain old me. What I was doing could lead to trouble, 
especially with Paul and my marriage. 

But deep inside I knew loved the attention too much to 
give it up. And the money was too good to ignore. 

Believe it or not, after thinking about what Phil had 
said for several days I decided to try toning down my 
flirtation, for the good of my marriage. But each 
evening when I would return to work I found myself 
craving the thrill of being watched. Of knowing the 
guys were straining to see just a little bit more of my 
body. And, deep inside, I found myself wanting to meet 
their desires. One evening my yearning became so strong 
that during one of my breaks my fingers found their way 
to the zipper of my sweater and started to pull. 

I thought I would just pull the zipper down a little 
and show just a bit of the top of my breasts. I pulled 
the zipper down a couple of inches, and with a bit of 
cleavage peeking out the top of my sweater I went back 
to work. There were a number of people at the bar and I 
kept an eye out for a reaction. I even found myself 
shimmying my shoulders back and forth to see if that 
would garner a look but I no one seemed to care. So I 
absent mindedly found myself pulling the zipper down a 
bit more. 

I stole a quick glance down and saw that the rise of my 
breast was now visible as was the top of my bra. I 
again went back to work. I thought for sure I noticed 
some wandering eyes, but not the reaction I was hoping 
to get. So I left my zipper where it was for most of 
the evening, until just before closing. By that time 
only the last diehard patrons were there and they were 
pretty toasted; involved in their drinks and loud talk. 

Out of what must have been pent up desire for attention 
I quickly grabbed my zipper and quickly pulled it down, 
not caring how far it went. I went straight up to the 
guys and told them it was "last call". The reaction was 
immediate. One by one they looked at me and their 
conversation ceased. Their eyes locked onto my chest. I 
pretended not to care or notice, even though I was 
dying to look down, not at all sure how far my zipper 
had traveled and how much I was exposing. 

I heard 'gasps' and 'wows' being murmured from the guys 
as I leaned over the bar and restated it was last call. 
The guy closest to me stated they'd have another round 
and pushed a fifty dollar bill across the counter 
towards me. As I looked down to take the bill all I 
could see were the white mounds of my breasts 
overflowing my too tight bra. I must have pulled the 
zipper down to my belly button and exposed all of my 
cleavage to the devouring eyes of these boys. My first 
instinct was to quickly zip up, but somehow I just 
couldn't do it. I grabbed the bill off the counter and 
turned to go fill their orders. 

My heart started to pound with the excitement I was 
feeling. The conversation the guys were having had 
completely stopped and, though my back was towards 
them, I KNEW their eyes were locked on me. I was so 
torn with my desire to zip up and the thrill I was 
feeling from being exposed that I don't even remember 
whether I properly filled their drink order, but I 
don't think they really cared. 

I returned to the bar with their drinks in hand 
noticing there wasn't a single eye that was not on my 
chest. I then went to the register and made their 
change, but they definitely didn't care about that. 
They continued their muted conversation as I dropped 
their change on the counter and strolled back to the 
other end of the bar. I stayed at the far end until 
they finished and left, leaving the change – a sizable 
tip – on the counter. After they left I quickly zipped 
up and rushed to the bathroom. 

I was so excited by the experience my hand immediately 
dove under my skirt and into my panties. I am certain I 
could be heard outside the bathroom as the orgasm took 
hold of me and I moaned in ecstasy. I got so wet I 
flowed down my bare leg. I braced myself against the 
wall, panting as my orgasm subsided. I could have 
stayed in the bathroom all night if I didn't have to 
close up and head home. 

That night marked further change in me. Paul and I 
needed money to keep our home and help keep his 
business afloat and the thought of how much money I 
could make at the bar thrilled me. But I also came to 
realize that exciting men with my body thrilled me 
more. And Paul, please forgive me, I was becoming 
addicted to that thrill. I even started stealing drinks 
at work, thinking the alcohol would help lessen my 
desires. Now of course, I'm sure my drinking only made 
things worse. 

As my addiction took hold I found I didn't have clothes 
at home that offered the look I now wanted and I didn't 
have the money to buy new, so I went to Goodwill for 
some blouses and dresses. I ended up getting some nice 
clothes and started wearing them to work a few times a 
week. However, the problem I now had were my bras. All 
of the blouses I bought were either semi-transparent or 
low-cut. 

I had always worn large support bras which couldn't be 
worn with clothes I now wanted to wear. I even tried 
cutting some of my bras in order to make them more 
revealing, but that didn't work. So Paul, I know this 
isn't what I told you, but I actually ended up going to 
various lingerie stores and stealing bras; that's when 
I got injured.

On one shopping (stealing) trip I took a demi cup bra 
off the rack at a department store and headed out the 
door with it under my sweater. The security guard saw 
me and told me to stop. Of course I didn't, I ran. I 
managed to elude the guard as I ran between stores, but 
as I looked over my shoulder to make sure I'd given him 
the slip I ran full-speed into a light pole. The impact 
knocked me flat on my back. That's why I came home so 
bruised that day, Paul. I'm sorry I lied.

I hurt so much the next day I didn't want to go to work 
and I guess it showed. I found myself running up to the 
office several times during the night and taking shots 
from Phil's personal supply of bourbon; anything to 
numb the pain. After moaning and complaining through 
most of my shift Phil tried to convince me to go to the 
hospital but I knew I couldn't afford the visit. That's 
when Phil introduced me to the next change in my life. 
As I tended bar complaining about my aches and pains 
Phil went to his office. He came back out, took my hand 
and pressed something into it. It was a small bottle 
with some pills in it.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Vicodin," he replied "It's a pain reliever. I get them 
for my back."

I stood there staring at him.

"Don't worry, it's a prescription medication. It'll 
help".

"Well I can't afford these" I told him.

"Don't worry, I have a prescription. I have a bunch of 
them in my office drawer. Take what you need." 

With that he left me with the bottle in my hand. Now, I 
was not one to take any kind of drugs, and I was not 
really keen on taking these, but there was no denying 
the pain. I thought about the pills for a while, 
weighing the bottle in my hand, then went up to the 
office, poured a large glass of bourbon and took my 
first one. 

I sat on Phil's couch for a while waiting for the pill 
to kick in. Being impatient, I poured another glass and 
took another pill. I sat there a while longer. I could 
certainly feel the effects of the bourbon but I was 
convinced the Vicodin wasn't doing shit. I had to get 
back to work and stood up. Anyone who has taken pain 
medication knows what happened then. Yes, the Vicodin 
kicked in and I felt a tremendous change come over me. 
I felt no pain whatsoever. Everything seemed - juuust 
fine. 

I slowly made my way down the stairs and headed through 
the hallway to the main bar. As I reached the bar Phil 
saw me. He took one look and turned me back into the 
hallway. 

"You took the pill?" he asked.

"Two." I slurred. 

"Look, you need to take it easy. Why don't you work the 
hotel side tonight? I'll work out here."

Of course, I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. 
So, I turned and headed for the hotel bar. As I turned, 
I swear I felt Phil's hand brush underneath my skirt 
and up the crack of my ass... but I wasn't sure, and I 
didn't care.

The hotel bar is normally pretty quiet, not many 
clients (and not many tips). That night was no 
exception. There were a few people sitting at a table 
near the restaurant and a few men in business attire 
milling around. I came through the hallway, took in the 
scene and slouched over the bar. I sat there for almost 
half an hour, until a gentleman came up and took the 
stool across from me. In my mind I knew I should ask 
him what he wanted to drink, but somehow I had lost my 
ability to form a sentence.

He sat there looking at me for a while then asked for a 
Scotch. I looked up at him. He had to be in his mid-
forties, mostly grey hair, nicely dressed in an 
expensive looking suit and tie. He looked me in the eye 
with a confident smile, and then I watched as his eyes 
drifted deliberately down to my chest.

I had been wearing my revealing blouses for several 
weeks and this evening I had selected a thin long-
sleeve cotton blouse. It was tucked into a pleated 
tartan skirt, giving me a bit of an Irish look. I had 
tried several of the bras I had stolen, but none of 
them fit well. The only one that came close was the 
demi cup and it was cut so low the tops of my areolas 
were at risk of exposure. But the blouse was button up 
and I had only released the top two so I knew my 
'virtue' was safe.

What I didn't realize was the way I was slouched over 
the bar, with my arms folded beneath my chest, my 
blouse had opened up and the gentleman across from me 
was being treated to an unobstructed view of my greatly 
exposed breasts. I saw him lick his lips as he looked 
at me before I realized through my mental fog, what was 
happening. And as that realization sunk in, I got that 
strange tingle in my body again. I got that delicious, 
naughty excitement of knowing that a man was looking at 
my exposed body. 

I gave the man an intoxicated smile and turned to find 
him his drink. As I was pouring, I stole a glance in 
the bar mirror. I could see him checking me out from 
head to toe and I swear he was 'adjusting himself' 
below the bar. I looked back at myself in the mirror 
and noticed something I didn't expect to see; my 
nipples. The excitement of being watched had caused my 
nipples to grow and this thin shirt and bra did 
absolutely nothing to conceal them.

At first I was shocked at the sight. I had grown to 
hate my prominent nipples. But then I surrendered to 
the fact there was nothing I could do about it that 
night. I finished the pour and turned back to face my 
client. I slid the drink to him, and for reasons I can 
only attribute to the Vicodin, I resumed my slouched 
position. 

He thanked me for the drink without taking his eyes off 
my chest. I watched him down his drink then reach in 
his breast pocket for his fold of cash. He pulled out a 
twenty dollar bill and pushed it towards me. As I 
reached out to take the bill he placed his hand on 
mine. I looked up at him. He reached back into his fold 
and pulled out a fifty. 

"This is for you... if you unbutton your blouse."

I looked at him as he smiled at me, then I looked at 
the cash. 

"No," I said "I... I can't" as I reached for the 
twenty.

Again he placed his hand on mine.

"Then just undo that one button." He said, pointing at 
the button between my breasts. 

I looked at him for a long moment, then stole a look 
around the room. The only people there were the group 
at the far table. I looked back at the man. I stood 
there for a second, staring at the money and through my 
haze I found myself reaching for my third button. When 
it released I actually pulled my blouse further open 
for him. I watched him nervously lick his lips again 
and broaden his smile. 

As he stared I could feel my heart start to hammer in 
my chest and my nipples grow longer and harder. I 
didn't dare look down because I wasn't sure I would 
like what I saw. But I could feel that familiar tingle 
start to surge in my body and I could feel my sex start 
to moisten. Oh that feeling of forbidden excitement, it 
is so overwhelming, I can't resist. 

My senses were so overcome by the feeling I got from 
this man enjoying my body that it did not immediately 
register when he took his hand with the fifty dollar 
bill and placed it inside my blouse. I felt the bill 
touch my right breast as he tucked it under the strap 
of my bra. I then felt his fingers slide down the slope 
of my breast until he touched my nipple. My breath 
immediately caught short as his fingers surrounded my 
nipple and started to pull. The feeling of his touch 
caused my knees to weaken and I let out a low moan of 
pleasure. His fingers deftly pushed down my bra and he 
started to stroke my breast in earnest. 

He then quickly and covertly reached out his other hand 
and soon those fingers found my other nipple. Between 
the drink, the drugs and the feeling I was getting I 
found myself unable to react, paralyzed with pleasure. 
As he pushed down the left cup of my bra and increased 
his pull on my nipples I felt myself starting to fall. 
My legs were giving way. I fell back and away from the 
bar and against the rear counter, the man watching with 
a passionate smile. 

"You are very beautiful, you know that" he said to me. 

I was so overwhelmed by the orgasmic feelings coursing 
through my body I didn't know how to respond. He 
continued to look at me, replacing his money clip 
inside his coat. He patted his coat outside where the 
money was placed.

"I am in room 776. Please do me the honor of stopping 
by later."

With that he smiled, turned and left the bar. I sat 
there on the cooler, engorged by the feelings and 
watched him leave. My blouse still unbuttoned, my 
nipples still exposed over the top of my bra. 

As he left I quickly slipped my hand under my skirt and 
felt my panties. My god they were wet. And my now 
engorged clitoris was begging for more, begging for 
touch, begging for release. But I couldn't, not there, 
not at work. I knew I wouldn't be able to resist 
touching myself to orgasm if I stayed in the quiet back 
bar so I left for the corridor. Somehow I needed to get 
my body settled down! As I stumbled my way to the main 
bar I managed to remember my blouse, it was wide open, 
still unbuttoned. I fumbled for the third button 
managing to fasten it just as I emerged into the main 
bar. 

It was close to closing time now and only one group of 
customers remained. It was one of the regular groups 
from the college, not one of my favorite groups. They 
were notoriously boisterous and loud. Phil was already 
on the main floor starting to clean up. Through a 
positively drug induced, drunken haze I plodded my way 
to the far side of the bar where the guys were huddled 
up drinking and talking. I essentially fell onto the 
bar and attempted to ask them if they needed anything 
before we closed. 

I immediately got their attention and their eyes all 
turned to me. I was too far gone to realize my 
condition. My head was lolling gently back and forth 
and I couldn't keep my eyes focused. The third button 
on my blouse was in place but I had forgotten to pull 
my bra back up over my breasts. My large nipples were 
plainly visible through the thin material of my blouse 
and completely exposed to the guys leering from the 
side. 

In all honesty my mind was unable to register the 
comments that started coming out of their mouths as 
soon as they saw me. I do remember hearing a lot of 
'fuck' and 'tits' and 'nipples'. And I do remember 
hearing one of them saying "I want some of that" as his 
hand crossed over the bar and grabbed my left breast. 
And somehow, all of this struck me the wrong way. I 
didn't need this kind of attention just now, I really 
just needed them to go away; leave me alone.

Obviously I wasn't thinking clearly because I then 
raised myself up and stumbled around to the other side 
of the bar. They watched me round the bar and cleared a 
path as I walked into the middle of the group. They 
thought it was funny and laughed at my feeble efforts 
to remove them from their drinks. I heard their laughs 
and taunts as the circle closed in around me. Because 
of my numbed state I didn't feel the first set of hands 
that touched me, sliding around my waist, on my thighs, 
on my arms. Then sliding under and cupping my breasts, 
grasping and pulling my nipples. I do remember feeling 
the cold hand that found its way under my skirt and 
lodged itself between the cleft of my ass. 

In my mind I remember trying to tell my body to turn 
and walk away, but my body was unable to respond. I 
remember the noise and laughter in my ears, the crush 
of bodies against mine, the hands on my breasts, inside 
my blouse, the feel of another hand reaching for my 
panties. Finally I felt a strong hand on my left elbow 
as it pulled and tugged at me from outside the pack. 

It was Phil. I fell back against him completely lost to 
the world. I can remember him yelling some harsh words 
to the guys and watching them grudgingly depart. I can 
remember feeling Phil's hands reach around to the front 
of my blouse searching for my third button to close my 
blouse. It had come open during the scuffle and now the 
button was nowhere to be found. Phil closed my blouse 
with his fist as he continued to bark orders to the 
boys. 

With my back to Phil and his arm around me keeping my 
blouse closed, he led me back behind the bar. He seated 
me on the stool, put his arms on my shoulders and tried 
to look me in the eye.

"What are you doing, are you feeling alright?" he 
asked.  

I had no answer.

"Look, you're done for the evening. Go upstairs and lie 
down. I'll finish-up here."

Phil continued to look me in the eye, trying to make 
sure his words were sinking in. His face then changed 
expression and a look of conflict began to show on his 
brow. He slowly dropped his gaze and his eyes found 
their way down to my chest. With his hands on my 
shoulders my blouse was now wide open. My breasts were 
completely exposed to his gaze, my nipples fully erect 
and pointing directly at him. 

Phil stared at me for a long minute, then suddenly he 
regained his composure. He stood me up and, with one 
arm still on my shoulder, led me to the stairs. I 
stumbled slightly as I rounded the corner and Phil 
moved his arm to around my waist. As we started 
ascending the stairs I felt his hand slowly move up my 
stomach. His hand gently cupped my breast and a second 
later his fingers were caressing my nipple. I looked up 
at him, his face focused straight ahead. I wasn't 
really sure this was happening. 

Phil had never made a move on me. But the feeling of 
fingers caressing my sensitive nipple was unmistakable 
and my body reacted as it always does. I felt that 
familiar wave of pleasure begin to build in my body. I 
heard a muted moan escape my lips, I felt the swallow 
of pleasure absorb my pussy and I felt weakness return 
to my knees. 

When we reached the office Phil released me and told me 
to go lie down. He would close up and take me home. I 
managed a thank you, entered his office and threw 
myself back on the couch. I lay there for several 
minutes trying to relax but my mind was traveling at a 
million miles per hour and my body was awash with 
desire. I looked down at my body. My left leg was slung 
over the arm of the couch, my skirt bunched up around 
my waist. My blouse was still wide open with my nipples 
reaching out for the ceiling. In a moment of clarity I 
determined that the least I could do was pull my bra up 
and cover myself. 

My mind asked my right hand to find my bra but as it 
moved, it brushed my nipple. A small shiver of pleasure 
coursed my body. Again I asked my hand to find my bra, 
but instead my fingers circled my nipple and started a 
caress. A moan escaped my lips and my pelvis made an 
involuntary thrust as my fingers pulled at my engorged 
nipple. 

Next my entire hand cupped my breast and squeezed 
gently causing another wave of pleasure to roll through 
my body. My pelvis raised high in the air and my left 
hand reached out to my mound to push it back down. The 
pressure of my hand on my mound immediately reached my 
clitoris which responded with another wave of pleasure 
that crashed through my body. I tried to suppress these 
urges but I found I simply could not. 

With my right hand groping at my breast, my left hand 
flipped up my skirt and dove down underneath my 
panties. There my fingers found my engorged clit 
swimming in a pool of vaginal juice. My fingers dove 
right in and started furiously rubbing. The climax that 
hit me was like few others I had experienced. It 
wracked my body causing me to contort and squirm 
uncontrollably on the couch. My whole body convulsed 
with pleasure and I let out a throaty moan. I tried to 
suppress the moan as much as I could, hoping to not be 
heard! 

As the orgasm started to subside and I could catch my 
breath I stole a look around the room to make sure I 
was still alone. I rolled my head to the left and 
right. I looked down, past my heaving breasts, past my 
hand deep inside my soaked panties and past the end of 
the couch; where I saw Phil, quietly sitting at his 
desk with a view directly up my skirt. 

"Oh god" I murmured between breaths, my hands freezing 
in place. 

Phil just sat there looking at me impassively. 

With my fingers still plunged inside my pussy and my 
other hand still clutching my breast I looked down 
between my legs and stared back at him. 

Phil then got up and walked around his desk towards me. 
I watched him, frozen, as he got down on his knees next 
to the couch. He looked me in the eye as he raised his 
hand and put it on the hand that was deep in my pussy. 
He eased my hand out from between the engorged lips of 
my sex, the extraction causing an audible slopping 
sound, and placed it by my side. 

He paused for a second, looking at me. He then took my 
right leg just below the knee and moved it aside. He 
stopped looking at me, turned his head and buried his 
face between my legs. His tongue instantly shot between 
the folds of my vagina in search of my clit. When he 
found it I was instantly hit with another orgasm that 
sent me convulsing and screaming with pleasure. 

He furiously licked and probed my pussy sending 
cascading waves of pleasure through my body. I raised 
my pelvis up in an attempt to meets Phil's attention; 
his hands reaching up, clawing at my breasts his tongue 
deep inside my pussy and tickling my ass.

Phil rose up on his haunches and undid his belt. 
Kicking off his pants, his cock sprung free and hung 
down semi-erect below his belly. As I took in the fact 
I was looking at his cock he swung his torso around and 
straddled my face. I could smell the musk of his loins 
as he pressed his cock between my lips and into my 
mouth. I was never good at oral sex and thought I would 
gag as Phil thrust his cock deeper into my mouth. But 
in my relaxed, lustful state I was able to let it slide 
into my throat. He raised and lowered his pelvis, 
thrusting in and out of my mouth, his cock growing in 
rigidity with each pass. 

Finally he pulled his cock out of my throat, wheeled 
around and spread my legs. He looked down at my open, 
sopping pussy, took in the sight of my breasts and 
erect nipples and looked me in the eye. His eyes were 
asking if I was ready for this, if I wanted this. I 
looked back at him, my body awash with lust, my mind in 
a daze. I looked at him knowing what I was about to do 
was wrong. I had never been with anyone but Paul, my 
husband. But there I was, my legs spread wide, my body 
overwhelmed with desire, my pussy eager for orgasm and 
the feel of a cock deep inside. 

And a second later, there was. Phil grabbed my upper 
thighs and thrust into me; plunging his turgid cock 
deep inside my body. He pumped furiously inside me like 
a crazed animal. His hands groped at my tits, clawed at 
my back. He humped furiously, moaning lustily in my 
ear. He mashed his body hard against mine in an attempt 
to find the deepest reaches of my sex. 

Minutes later he let out a long guttural scream as he 
pushed his cock to its' furthest reaches, pressing me 
up hard against the back of the couch in a lustful, 
animalistic orgasm. He held us there, pinned against 
the back of the couch until I felt his flaccid, spent 
penis slip out from between my wet and overwhelmed 
vaginal lips. 

Phil lay back on his haunches, holding his spent cock 
in one hand. I looked at his limp, spent organ as it 
receded back into his groin then stole a look between 
my legs at where it had just been; a trail of milky 
white fluid leaking out onto the leather. I placed my 
hand on my pussy feeling the last remnants of pleasure 
steal away. Thumbing the warm texture of my folds 
between my fingers and taking in the glow. 

And as I breathed in that satisfying breath of post-
coital pleasure I looked out across the room with 
wistful eyes. It was then it caught my eye; something 
moved. Through the corner of my eye I thought I 
detected movement; a shadow. Through my haze I wasn't 
sure I saw anything at all, but I took a moment and 
looked again. Yes, there was a shadow, there in the 
doorway. 

That is when you walked in, Paul. That is when you 
walked in. 

I don't have to go into what happened next, you know 
what happened as well as me. It was the beginning of 
the end. You lived it, I lived it. 

You know I got addicted to the Vicodin after you moved 
out of our house. I found it too easy to enter Phil's 
drawer whenever I wanted, and I seemed to want all the 
time.  I never got over the thrill of showing my body 
and teasing men. I guess that is just a part of me that 
will never change. And, I guess I sealed my own fate 
when I started visiting men in the hotel in search of 
fulfillment, until I got caught and was fired.  

But I want you to know that the breakup and divorce 
were unquestionably the worst years of my life. I went 
down a path that cost me so much and the struggle to 
normalize my life has been so difficult. 

I wrote this for you Paul, so you'd know what happened 
to me, so maybe you'd understand. Perhaps you'd forgive 
me.  Perhaps I wrote this for a sense of closure. And 
perhaps I will finally find some peace.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 62