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"Thanks," you respond as you down the shot.

"Okay, I'll just go for another one. Won't be a minute."

"Great."

He looks back towards you as he leans against the bar. For some reason this morning you look more beautiful than normal and he is unable to take his eyes off of you. The barman coughs and his attention snaps back towards him, in jeans and a t-shirt he looks every inch the typical student. He orders your second drink and while he pours it he finds half of his attention being drawn back to you. The barman hands him his change which he swiftly deposits in his pocket before hurrying attention back to you.

As he sits closer to you, he seems to notice that you're in a short tight skirt showing  a lot of leg. His eyes return to your face.  You smile sweetly. The mere sight of your smile seems to cause him to smile too. Yet although his eyes are drawn to your face, his hands are drawn to your thighs that appear so tantalizing.

"So have you had a good day?" he asks as he pulls his chair even closer to yours.

He brushes his hand almost accidentally on your knee. His eyes study you for a negative reaction and spotting none he takes this as a good signal.

"Sorry," he mutters inaudibly, as though he instantly regrets it.

"Yes not too bad, but my husband is a pain in the ass. How are things for you?"

"Fairly busy," he responds. "My wife has been a real bitch too...." 

"I hear you," you respond as you roll your eyes upwards towards the heavens. "Spouses can be a total drain. I don't know why I ever got married."

"I am sure you will find a way to be happy," he says as he takes a hold of your knee and squeezes it gently, as if to reassure you. As the conversation moves on, his hand doesn't.

The first flush of alcohol seems to be slightly boosting his confidence and you allow his hands to grow steadily more adventurous. His fingers move in gentle rubbing movements just above your knees, almost as if to warm you up. Then his fingers gradually creep further and further up your thighs. Your skin is soft and smooth beneath your skirt. His hands move slowly, so as not to startle and yet almost daring you to stop him. His gaze fixes upon yours, looking for the merest hint of displeasure that he will take as a signal to stop. Yet that never happens. This encourages him to continue to allow his strong fingers tracing the insides of your warm thighs. Your eyes don't quite meet his and remain looking away - embarrassed and eager for him to carry on. 

You stand and motion for him to follow you. He follows you to a booth with a long table cloth in the back of the bar. The dark lighting and table cloth allows a concealed spot to play. By now the conversation has ceased.

In a sudden move, his hand moves to the middle of your crotch. He looks at the way you make the merest hint of a gasp. You tremble at his touch.  Even through the fabric, you're certain he can feel the way your pussy yearns to be touched. He grins softly as you squirm with every movement of his hand.  Your legs part further so it is even easier for him to touch you. He gently strokes you through the fabric. His hand slips to your left hip, where Henry fumbles for the waistband and takes a firm hold of the fabric.

"Help me out with this?" he asks, in response you lift your body slightly off the seat and his hand gently pulls them down slipping them over your smoothly shaved legs. He has to lean forwards as He pulls them over your shoes. With one hand he crumbles them up into a small ball and slip them into his jacket pocket. Your cheeks are faintly flushed.

"You can have them back later," Henry whispers as he slides his finger back up your thighs, as they part slightly. His fingers move still higher until they reach the very top.

"I can stop at any time you want," he says. "Just say the word."

You shake your head ever so slightly and this makes him grow more audacious. You allow his fingers to gently brush your fleshy mound. Henry begins to tease your outer lips then dipping them into your juices, soaking his fingers in your juices. Then he carefully spread the moisture over your now swollen mound. Around the pair of you is a buzz of conversation as ordinary people happily enjoying their morning unaware of what he is doing to you.

Your hand gently squeeze just above his knee and then begins to move higher and higher up his leg. He feel his cock stirring as your hand moves higher and higher. You brush the palm of your hand against it.

"Your turn," you whisper as you lean close to him.  You move closer to him and nibble softly on his ears as his fingers run torturously around your clit.

Your fingers grope the area around his crotch as if you are trying to find something before you find the top of his zipper and take hold of it with two fingers. 

You hear the sound of the sound of metal on metal as you slowly unzip him. His half erect cock, freed from the constraint of trousers, seems to grow still bigger as you take it in your hand. Even through the fabric of his cotton boxer shorts it feels delightful. Your fingers wrap around the head and squeeze it before you begin to pump up and down the shaft of his cock. You feel the heat of the blood flowing into it as his erection grows longer and more thicker. With each motion of your hands it seems to grow bigger and stronger. Your fingers toy with the head, occasionally pausing in order to squeeze it.

"I'm so turned on," you almost growl.

"Me too," he responds as his fingers gently glide around your clit. Stroking around it in circular motions, using your own juices as lubrication. His fingers become drenched with your juices. You whisper all manner of filth into his ear as you feel your pussy convulse around his fingers. Simultaneously you feel his cock explode. He emits a slight grunt as he shudders – trying to control himself.

He struggles to catch his breath as you almost collapse into his arms. You wonder if anyone can knows what is going on. You lick his cum off of your fingers.

"That was so good!" he says.

"Mmmm. Tasty," you respond as you exhale deeply, your eyes half closed.

"We could go on somewhere else?"

"Where?"


*[[Rampage/The bar bathroom|The bar bathroom]].
*[[A dumpster behind the bar]].
{{RampageTemplate|who=[[Jessica Jones|Young-Looking, Pretty Mother]]}}
[[Category: Rampage]]