Beer

"Another beer for me, and then some water. Give my lady a couple of more Sex on the Beaches, and I'd like the private booth for us for the next hour." Wendy lifted an eyebrow. John hadn't turned down whiskey this late since she was on the pole.

"A bit presumptuous, John." Carrie laughed.

"Always, Carrie."

Forty-five minutes later, Carrie and John were hungrily making out. Carrie was on John's lap, her dress above her waist, his rough hands mauling her ass. She felt his long, fat cock stiffening against her thigh. She was on the precipice of losing control.

"Shall we go back to my place," John asked, breath hot in her ear.

"I'd love that John," Carrie replied huskily. Then she swallowed. How to frame this, she thought. The truth is the easiest. "I'm in the market for a new man. And I'm very, very interested in you. But this is the most exquisite pussy you're ever going to plow. So to get this pussy, you're going to have to earn it. Wine it, dine it, 69 it. And you're going to have to deserve it. And a guy that is drunk every night and on a first name basis with every skank in the club doesn't deserve it. I don't care that you're twice my age, I don't care that you have more gray hair than my dad. I don't even care about this big ole Daddy dick trying to tear a hole in my panties. I care that you're up to the challenge." Carrie sat back, eyes gleaming. John took another drink of water, considering.

"I haven't had a challenge in a long time. I accept," Ah, the ego's vanity, Carrie thought. John continued, "But indulge an old man and show me what those lips can do. A sign of good faith." Carrie smiled.

"Take me home, John."