Debuting at the biker/thug bar

The barmaid was young,
blond, stacked, and slutty,
generous with more than just the
over-salted nuts. She had a thing for nuts.
She’d mouth them as a snack,
then settle down to sucking cock
as if it were her mother’s teat.
Her skirt was short and tight, her top
more of the same, or less, leaving her
endowment with the option of escape.

She thrust her boobs beneath the drinker’s
alcoholic nose. “Want another beer?”
He ignored her, tits and all, and
gestured with his head way down the bar.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” throwing his
rough voice towards a larger, older man.

The barmaid was puzzled. The other guy,
a regular, hadn’t yet been served.
She looked back at her customer, then
down the bar again, towards to a fleshy
redhead sticking to the big guy
like a kitten climbing up a pair of jeans.
She looked back at the thug.
He nearly drooled. His eyes said
he was harder than the bottle by his hand.
She didn’t get it. The lady must be forty
if a day. The barmaid looked around.
You’d think the redhead was a TV
and the Orioles were set to win the pennant,
the way that all the eyes were pulled her way.
You could have choked on testosterone.

The big guy caught her eye and grinned.
Grabbing at his lady’s russet mane, he pulled
her head towards his. Her mouth opened,
her tongue extended, as if to some command
that only she could hear. She was well-trained.
He kissed her long and deep.
The barmaid knew she’d find the traces
of a healthy wet spot when she – or someone –
took her panties off. She held her breath.
She’d seen the guy before. She’d always felt
a touch of danger back behind his eyes.
She didn’t care. She’d give up twenty years
to be that redhead by his side. And all around,
every man of every age was wishing he were
that big guy and thinking just what he would do
if only he could take that redhead home.
The big guy smirked and grabbed his lady’s tit.
He twisted and she screamed.
The whole room groaned.
He dragged her to a chair and pulled her down
across his knee. The floor show had begun.
The barmaid hid behind the bar,
her hand upon her clit,
and prayed for someone,
anyone,
to fuck her hard that night.

Written for my Master and
published with permission.
And no, it hasn't happened.
Yet.