Party Girl

So there is a local watering hole I go to sometimes after work. It's kind of a dive, but I like going there because it's on the way home and kind of empty during Happy Hour. I can have a beer and unwind in peace. I look a little different from the clientele there because I usually wear a jacket and tie to work. I've been going there for years, so the bartenders and waitresses know me well.

I should stress this is not a pickup bar. A few women pop in, but generally they are escorted. There are a few blue collar dudes who stop in after work with the same idea as me, but they sit at the bar. I sit alone in one of the booths in the back so as not to be disturbed. Normally I stay about an hour, have one or two cold ones, then head on home.

A couple of months ago they hired a new bartender, Meg. She's a bit trashy with big tits, a lot of makeup, mid-40s, and a bubbly personality. She's kind of loud and in everybody's business, but her boobs give her a pass from the patrons. She works from six to close, so about the time I'm leaving she's starting her shift. I have never interacted with her, and she talks to literally EVERYBODY in the bar. I never detected a hint of interest, which was fine by me. She's not really my type, and my expectation isn't to find a dominatrix serving booze to the Happy Hour crowd at my dive bar.

When I arrived last Thursday around 5:15 she was already on duty. Apparently she was covering for someone and had switched her shift. I had my usual brewskies, paid the tab, and was ready to head out the door. As I was putting my credit card in my wallet, I felt the presence of somebody sitting down across from me. I looked up to find two colossal boobs and their owner sitting in my booth.

"How come you never say "Hi", darling?"

She really caught me off guard, so I stuttered an apology if I was being rude. I politely introduced myself, and that would be just about all for my end of the conversation. Meg told me her life's story while I sat there and nodded. She told me she's been married three times, has two adult k**s, a dog, lots of extended family, and many good friends. Somewhere in mid-conversation she told me about her boob job and how it was good for tips. She had a story for each tattoo. She also told me about her boyfriend in jail. Her favorite hobby is "partying".

I don't know why, but people tend to tell me things. Maybe Meg told all that stuff to everyone, but it sure seemed like she wanted me to know a lot of details about her life. She talked at me for the better part of an hour and did a couple of shots of tequila when she took a break. However, she didn't appear to have much interest in mine, except one thing. She asked me if I liked to dance.

Truth be told, as I've gotten older dancing has become increasingly rare for me. When I was young in college I used to go out clubbing all the time as it seemed like the only way to meet girls. But those days are long gone. Dancing is confined to a few rare social occasions like weddings or New Year's Eve. I told her the truth, but she didn't seem to care. She just wanted me to know that SHE liked dancing, and she was going out with some friends and asked me if I would like to come along.

Seriously? Shit like this never happens to me. Honest to God, I was already terrified of this woman. I told her that I had to get up early in the morning and go to work, but perhaps another time. We exchanged cell numbers and I made my escape.

When I got home it took me a while to relax and let go of the excitement of the encounter. I put on some chill music, read a while, then finally unwound enough to go to bed. At 2:00 in the morning the phone rang. An intoxicated voice was on the other end.

"Hey Dahhhling. You missed a great night. What's wrong, Don't you like to party?"

I explained to her that I had a presentation in a few hours and needed to get some sleep. She went straight for the jugular.

"Don't you like me? Are you fucking gay or something?"

So I thought I may as well come clean. I'll probably have to find a new place for Happy Hour because she'll blab it all over, but I told her about my Femdom proclivities. For the first time I was met with silence. I figured that would be the last time I would hear from her. After a long pause, she spoke.

"So you want me to be in charge? I can do that."

Then it was my turn for reflection. I can think of ten or more times in my life when I have made this confession to a vanilla woman and that immediately ended the relationship. A lot of women go straight for the whips and chains stereotype when they think of Femdom. However, this woman didn't seem fazed.

"What's your address?"

I hesitated, but figured I was already awake anyway. I divulged my location to her, and she told me she would be there in 30 minutes. I put on a robe and made a pot of coffee. It wasn't long before I heard a car pull into my driveway that was blasting music. I was hoping she wouldn't wake up my neighbors. I went outside and escorted her into my home.

She smelled of cigarettes and alcohol, and her makeup was running a bit. It didn't matter to me because the moment she uttered the words on the phone about taking charge, she immediately became a Goddess in my eyes.

"Nice place you got. Do you have anything to drink?"

We went to the kitchen, I offered her coffee and she shook her head. I told her I had wine and beer, but she wanted something stronger. Wow. Hardcore.

She passed on the alcohol and I got her a glass of ice water. That was probably what she needed anyway. I suspected she was going to have a fierce hangover in a few hours. She put the glass on the counter, approached me, and undid my robe belt. She yanked my robe off me, and was shocked by my appearance.

"Hey, where'd your hair go, Darling?"

I told her the embarrassing story about my electrolysis, and she roared with laughter. But her amusement soon passed and curiosity took over. She put her hands on my smooth chest and rubbed downward until she got to my cock. It sprung to life in her hands.

We went to my bedroom and she did a little striptease for me. She told me she worked as a dancer at a local titty bar for six years before she had k**s. The boob job now made complete sense.

She pushed me on the bed and then climbed on top of me with my face positioned between her legs.

"Do you like to eat pussy?"

The next thing I knew her ass cheeks were on either side of my nose and she was sliding all over my face. I extended my tongue as far as it would go, but there really wasn't much technique to it. She was using my whole face: chin, nose, lips, tongue, etc.. My air was filled with her scent, and she was using her hands to hold my head in place. Her juices were running down my chin onto my neck. She was taking charge alright.

"I'm gonna cum."

I felt her contracting above me, and then she shifted her weight so my nose was in her ass crack. I couldn't see her butthole, but I could feel it. I wanted to put my tongue inside it, but I couldn't move my head. I would have to be opportunistic for my chance. After she came, she lurched forward a little to catch her breath, and at that moment I found the hole and pushed my tongue inside her as far as it would go.

She squealed and told me that felt good and to keep doing it. I pulled my tongue out of her and licked around the hole flicking it a bit before thrusting it back inside her. She was rocking back and forth impaling my tongue deeper. I felt her hand on my cock, and wanted to tell her that reciprocation isn't necessary for me, but with my tongue up her ass I was at a loss for words.

"You got a vibrator?"

I told her that I have a Hitachi somewhere in the treasure chest at the foot of the bed. She left my face, turned on the light, opened the box, and mouthed the words "Oh, my God."

Compared to some people I know, my toy collection isn't that extensive. However, I do own a lot of BDSM stuff: hood, gags, restraints, riding crops, whips, floggers, and of course my strap-ons. She lit up with delight.

She examined each piece closely asking questions from time to time. I found it a little hard to believe that during her stripper years, she didn't familiarize herself with some items. She asked a lot of questions about my e-stim stuff, but grew silent when she discovered my Spare Parts strap-on harness.

"So you take it up the ass, right? I knew it. You like men, don't you?"

I was going to explain my sexuality to her, but then thought it wouldn't be worth the trouble. I told her that I would prefer to take it from her, and she seemed pleased with that answer.

"I've never seen one of these before."

I explained to her how the chastity device worked and how it adds to a Domme's control over a submissive male. The concept of orgasm denial excited her. She liked the idea of a sexually frustrated man, and she told me that she had changed her mind about fucking me. "You ain't gettin' none."

Eventually, Meg found the Hitachi, and returned to the bed. To my surprise she left me alone and began masturbating with the Hitachi. I watched her while I took my dick in hand to jackoff, but she caught me out of the corner of her eye and said, "no". She was learning quickly. I realized that I was witnessing the birth of a dominant Mistress.

She had a second orgasm, caught her breath, then quickly got up and got dressed. She left me on the bed with cock hard enough to cut diamonds. She left before the sun came up, and I haven't seen her since, however, she has called me a couple of times when she has been drunk late at night. I've seen her at the bar, but she doesn't acknowledge me. I think I'm a dirty secret. I believe she wants to see me again, but I don't want it be when she's been drinking. BDSM and excessive alcohol don't go well together. For her sex is part of the party, so it could be a sticking point.

Time will tell.