The bartender

For the first time in a long while, you begin to get picky. Any man, you think. Not even the sexiest guy here could compare to you. You're a stud. Like a girl stud. If it's not already a thing, you make it a thing by the very admission of your existence.

Most all of the patrons are too many drinks in for your tastes. Scoff. What do these woozy drunkards have to offer to you, sex on two legs? Nothing, that's what.

But upon closer inspection, you spot a single surely sober face: the bartender. And what a face it is! A light five o'clock shadow over an intelligent jawline, cleanly cut dark brown hair with light curls, and brilliant blue, almost cyan eyes. He's fit and well-dressed as well. What a goddamn catch.

Sophie: "Him."

You point at him discreetly, pressing yourself against Susan's side.

Susan: "Nice going! Now let's see you work your magic, tiger. Conquer that poor fool. Get his world turnt.

You imbide the remains of your scotch glass and set on, fueled by equal parts **** and Susan's words of ecouragement. You seat your gorgeous supermodel ass right down on the barstool, look the man clear in his eyes and say:

Sophie: "Uhh..."

Dammit. Not having dated in forever is kind of a bitch to the ol' charm. Can't think of anything to say. The man leans with his forearms on the counter, his big, thick, manly forearms, and asks:

Bartender: "What'll it be?"

The question almost goes over your head while fantasizing about getting pinned to the bed by him. Gotta straighten out your head. Remember: you're a walking sex Goddess. You can just say anything. Anything!

Sophie: "How's about a hot cup of cum, freshly squeezed from the tap?"

The bartender looks, understandably, flustered. To say something so brash, and forward, and yet somehow inherently elegant, coming from arguably the sexiest woman he has ever seen... In the clamor of a bustling bar, he's unsure if he heard you right.

Bartender: "C-can you repeat that?"

You lean right forwards and whisper into his ears:

Sophie: "(I want you to pull down your pants, jack off into a cup and serve your hot stud cum to me, right here and right now.)"

You can practically hear him popping a boner. Never mind that what you said was perhaps the lousiest pickup line ever conceived of; still, coming from a sexy beast like you, it works wonderfully. He considers for a moment, before crouching down for a moment to unslip his ridiculous hipster suspenders off, hoping nobody will notice.

God, he's so patethic, you smugly think. Who knew how easy it was to make horny guys do you bidding? You would be sure to **** this in throes.

The bartender finds it difficult to jack off. Sure, he's hard as steel just looking at you, but out in public like this... it's so embarassing. What if somebody wants his attention?

You decide to aid the barkeep a little, and treat him to a slow and deliberate nip slip. The man starts blasting as soon as you begin to slide your sporty top down your chest. He quickly pulls up his pants and awkwardly hands you a cup of his cum.

Bartender: "H-here y-you go, ma'am."

You bring the cup to your snout. You take a small whiff of its sturdy scent, before slathering your long, coarse tongue all over the insides of the cup, giggling smugly as you see your target struggling to stop himself from cumming again. You pull the cup away from your face, letting the long strands of cum to drip all over the counter. The bartender is at full mast again, and close to fainting with arousal.

Sophie: "That was... satisfactory. Tell me, where do you get this stuff?"

Bartender: "I uh... made it myself."

Sophie: "Mrrowr... Well then, how about we meet up after your shift is over, and you can make me some more?"

You try to wink at him cutely, but actually end up closing both of your eyes. However, it still looks mad sexy.

Bartender: "Oh, no need to. I'll just leave early, I've only got 50 minutes left anywho."

Sophie: "A bad boy... I like that. Let's go!"

You waltz outside with the hapless barkeep in your wake. You give a thumbs up to Susan on your way out. She looks ecstatic that her idea works in practice too. You go outside and into a nearby parking lot where the bartender keeps his sedan.

Sophie: "Okay, I think at this point we can drop the pretenses. Do you wanna be on top or on bottom?"

Bartender: "You're crazy! You're just damn crazy, girl! I can't believe you made me do that. People were looking at me weird..."

Sophie: "What can I say? I'm a twisted fucking nympho, and I've got years of repressed feelings from not having dated."

Bartender: "Oh? On the rebound?"

Sophie: "Nope, I've just been an idiot, and refused to initiate anything. I've just thought that everyone thinks they're out of my league."

Bartender: "I can understand that."

Sophie: "But yea, prepare to have years upon years of horny supermodel catgirl fantasies cascade upon you. You're gonna have to make up for every inch of cock that I've been craving."

Bartender: "...that's a big ask."

Sophie: "Yea, and I can't expect you to live up to those expectations alone."

With one smooth motion, you tear off your several-thousand dollar dress off your body like a wet tissue paper, letting the bartender gaze upon the perfection of your body in its full natural glory. Your boobs somehow look even perkier like this.

Sophie: "...you'll also have this to aid you."

The bartender's khaki's rip apart from the seams. He hurriedly tears his pants down and pins you down right there on the hood, pushing himself balls deep into your excruciatingly tight athelete's flesh. You grin with delight, seeing him struggle to reign you in despite his formidable muscles. He's really more so holding onto your wrists for support - you could overpower him easily.

Sophie: "C'mon now, is that the best you can manage? I'm not satisfied until your suspension breaks!"

He heaves and puffs with effort, wanting so badly to attain the impossible by sating your insatiable cumlust. He cries out in exasperation, already near the edge of his limits. You've got to do something to egg him on even further!