The bull-ride should be the easiest choice....

As always the attention of men is a little intoxicating in itself but you still want the drink.

"I'll take..." you pause, and the men hang on your words, giving you a sense of power that fills you with confidence. "I wanna ride."

"You can ride me," a man offers, chuckling. The bartender just rolls his eyes.

"Is it hard?" you ask, worried about being thrown off.

"Really hard!" says the same man.

The bartender shakes his head minutely, but just shrugs at you. "For some folks. To be sporting we'll put it on easy setting to start with so you get used to it. Then we'll take off a dollar for each minute you stay on."

"A buck for a buck!" the other guys chortles, clearly far along in his night's drinking.

Turning you eye the mechanical monster. Having never been on one you're half-afraid that you'll break your neck. Bending over you poke at the padded floor around it, oblivious to the eye-ful you're giving the patrons of the bar while you satisfy yourself that it's safe.

"Okay," you say, and still bent over you remove one shoe and then the other. The men groan in disappointment as you straighten up again.

"I'll help you get on!" one man all but yells, leaping forward as if it were a race. A few grumbles follow his words from the men but you smile gratefully at him.

"Thank you. I've never been on one of these before. I can use the hand."

"Oh s-sure," he says with a nod, his adam's apple bobbing. It's kind of cute how flustered he seems. "Oh wait, that's the wrong way to get on."

Too late you realize he's right. You've stepped into the left stirrup with your right leg, leaving you almost sitting on the bull, but sideways. Thinking that you'll just swing your leg over you hop up onto the saddle, but go too far.

"I got ya!" the man cries out as you feel yourself sliding backwards off the bull. Your legs spread wide in panic, giving another fabulous view to the bar, but then as the man grabs you you snap your legs shut, wrapping them around him for dear life.

"Way to go, Joe!" the drunk hollars, and you feel yourself flush as you realize you've just clutchec Joe's head with your legs, thereby shoving his heaviliy whiskered face against your crotch. You can feel every twitch he makes as his bristles scrape harshly against the ever-tender skin of your inner thighs and the even more sensitive slit between your legs that's pressed up against his face.

"Oh God...." you moan in embarrassment, in no hurry to right yourself and face the leering looks you're sure they're giving you.