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Another story featuring the antagonist from my earlier story, "A Friendly Game of Pool". This story has taken a while to put together, and I'm still not sure if it really is finished. I'd like to continue the story in the future. Please let me know what you think with a comment. There are going to be some editing/grammar mistakes, I know. This is the fourth version of the story, so I think it's the most concise. "I Bet" by Boredsitting Henry and I were always best friends. We grew up to together as best friends, faced puberty as best friends, and even fought as best friends. Yup, Henry and Kelly prowling the town. Now that we are finally into our twenties, we're facing the real world as best friends. Well, really "bros", because Henry'll beat the shit out of you if you call us BFF's or besties. To be honest, I don't even remember when we met. He's just always been there as my friend. So, it's no problem for us to just hang out and enjoy our game of pool just the two of us in this dive bar. We've been here as much as we've been anywhere else. It's like our second home. Sometimes to pass the time we'll play stupid games with each other. Like tonight, we're playing a game of "I Bet" daring each other to do or say stupid stuff. It's not really having any effect because we're the only ones here. "Alright, um, I bet you can't knock this ball in, Kelly," he said pointing to a ball crowded among mine. There's not really any way for me to line it up, so I just knock the whole group with a strong shot. The crack pierces the air of the bar almost echoing off of the walls. The lone barkeep continues replacing dirty or broken glasses without even looking up behind the bar. "Yea, well, you're right. I bet I can now, though!" I retort as the ball in question is now in the open and lined for an easy shot in the corner. "No shit, dude! Anyone can make that one," Henry barks. His voice is loud enough to fill the room. "You didn't say in how many shots, numbnuts," I reply. The distinct jingle of the bells attached to the bar's front door announces that someone else has chosen this bar as their evening rest. We both look up, because that's what you do when you hear the bells, and see the most tackily dressed, tall, wiry-thin man stroll up to the bar upon entering. As God as my witness, I swear we're looking at a 70's pimp or some wanna-be with the get-up he's wearing. No two articles have the same pattern or color. His bright purple longcoat has a nest of pink frills along the collar. One hand is holding an intricately carved spiraled walking cane. Thick, gaudy golden rings encircle each finger making me wonder how he could hold the thing at all. "Dude, check out the pimp over there!" Henry called out to me easily loud enough for the man to hear us. "I wonder where his "ho's" are at, ha!" "Can you keep it down, Henry? We don't know that guy. For all we know he could have a freakin' gun under that coat," I chastise. Henry has a talent for getting us into trouble with his big mouth. I'm usually the one who has to settle the matter, so it get annoying when a good night is ruined by Mr. Loudmouth over here. The guy peers over his collar at my friend. I can't see his face too much, but I'm sure he's not happy. Expecting the night to be over prematurely, I start racking the balls up and cleaning our area with a sigh. He motions to the barkeep and is rewarded with three beers in traditional glass mugs. From what I can see, the bartender can pour a perfect head. "So, you boys aren't in the mood to go out tonight, huh?" he calls out confidently with a smooth voice that belongs in a jazz radio station. I was wrong. He doesn't look upset at all by my friend's outburst. That's a relief. "Don't mind us, sir. My friend was just being obnoxious," I reply in an effort to save some face before leaving. "I don't mind at all, young man," he answers like a game show host or some greasy politician. "If you wanted to know, I'm still looking for my ho's. You wouldn't be able to help me, would you?" he asks with a plastic smile. "Fuck off, guy. We're just having some fun," Henry spits out. He's not too fond of strangers butting into our pool night. "Oh, don't worry about little ol' me. You boys can still have fun playing your game," the colorful man eloquently replies. His smoothness cannot be overstated. "Yea? We were doing fine until you came along," Henry spits. "So, tell me. What game am I interrupting?" the guy asks almost innocently. "We were playing a game of 'I bet'," I blurt out before I can stop myself. Why would I volunteer that information? We want to be left alone, guy! "Ho, ho! I love that game. You guys say 'I bet...' then the other person has to do it, right? Oh, this is gonna be a hoot!" he cheers as if my friend has no effect on him. "Oh, let me start...I bet you'll let me play your fun game, Mr. Attitude." His voice never loses its shine as he looks at Henry. "Fine!" Henry snaps annoyed that the guy won't leave. He's not really being a problem yet. Let's just wait and see how this evening goes along. "Yea, I guess you can stay," I agree through a tight-lipped grin trying to play nice. "So, who's turn is it?" the visitor asks with enthusiasm as Henry breaks the balls on the table with a loud crack. "Um, either mine or yours," I reply giving him the hint to see how well he catches on as my eyes follow the litany of bouncing balls reflecting off of each other on the green felt table. One eye is locked onto his presence just in case. "You can go ahead, good sir," he offers with a tip of his hat. I look at him incredulously and think that we need to know who we're dealing with before being too comfortable. "I bet you don't always wear that get up, do you? Are you on your way to a show or something?" I mention. "I'm shocked!... I'm shocked that you don't understand good fashion when you see it. Look at how boring your clothes are with those pedantic jeans and t-shirt. If you have an open mind, then maybe I can help you with your lack of style," the guys critiques with a knowing smile. Henry's bent over the table aiming a shot as we both look on. "Tell me," he almost whispers, "you have a little more...um, class - no culture than your friend there, don't you?" I don't answer. "I think you do have potential to be a sexy fucker like me. Hell, I bet your underwear is matching underneath your clothes like a true sexual animal. You look like a...cheetah print is it? It's okay, I won't tell anyone," the visitor suggests. "You'll do that on your own when you get ready," he snickers. I turn away to walk to the other side of the table to put some distance from him. As I do, I pull my neckline out and peer down to see an animal print bra strapped across my chest underneath my casual, oversized t-shirt. Why did I just do that? He mentioned underwear, and I instantly think about my bra? How in the hell did he know about my bra unless it's showing? Looking in a mirror on the wall I don't see anything amiss. Then, I make a mental check of the strap of lace fabric splitting my butt cheeks allowing them to feel the denim fabric of my pants. How, then, could he know? "Hey, how did you know how to play this game?" Henry barks at the guy not aware that I'm trying to keep from flashing my underwear to the new guy. "Oh, this game? It's been around forever," he scoffs. "I like these kinds of games. It allows people to really get to know each other in a fun way. I seem to be able to gather a bigger crowd when people are more familiar with each other." "Yea, well, don't push your luck. I'm just trying to de-stress from the week, so as long as you don't screw that up we'll be okay," Henry almost growls. "Who's turn is it?" he mumbles as he aims for another shot. "It's his turn," I point to the stranger. "So do you just walk into bars and start playing 'I bet' with them, or are you here for a reason?" Henry asks. "It's a social thing. I just love to meet new people and learn their story," he answers brightly. "There's so many people out there, and it's worth taking the time to meet them." "Well, I guess I have to give it to ya. I bet you have a lot of balls just walking into our personal game and expect us to just welcome you," Henry rudely states not caring if he insults the guy. "Ha, not yet, at least," the sharply dressed guy giggles. "The night is still young!" We both glance at each other not knowing if that was a joke or not. "It's your turn, little one," he barks pointing to me. "Give us your challenge." His 'little one' comment burns a little. I look at the three mugs of beer in his hands. "I bet you were gonna give those to us," I suggest hoping for a free beer. Henry is still making his shots by the continuing sound of the balls cracking against each other behind us. "Fair enough," he loudly agrees and hands each of us one of the still- frosty mugs of beer. Henry snatches his without really taking his eyes off of the game that he's winning. I take mine and say, "Thank you." "Hey mister, I didn't get your name," I call out trying to get him talking so I can think of a way to make his presence more palatable. "Sure, there buddy. How rude of me! The name's Mr. Pleisier, and I have a special penchant for spending evenings with new good friends," he announces proudly while grabbing me by the side and pulling me into a surprisingly strong side hug. I wince at being manhandled so easily. It causes my panties and bra to move around, so spend a second trying to adjust both of them while being as sly as possible. Unfortunately, my junk has fallen out of favor within my thin panties and are now very uncomfortable. "Don't you have a first name?" Henry scoffs. "That's MISTER to you two. Show some respect for your elders young man. I don't care if you're a big guy, if we're gonna spend a lot of time together it's best we start on a good note. Hell, I bet we're gonna see a lot more of each other than you ever thought you would. In the spirit of this game, I bet our little game here is gonna open you two up to a whole different world that you didn't think you'd be a part of - and you're gonna thank me for it. Tonight is gonna rock! Isn't that right?" he professes. I look over at Henry with a growing grin on his face. Well, he's on board, so I might as well just try to keep a low key. "Hey, there! You never said your 'I bet'. Do you have one?" Mr. Pleisier asks pleasantly to Henry. He stops his run of the game to concentrate hard on his next move while enjoying his beer. "I bet you're gonna take care of the beer tab tonight, aren't cha?" he says with a grin. I have the feeling that if this guy is gonna butt into our fun Henry would at least make him carry his weight. Henry's a smart guy underneath that tough guy exterior. "Ha! Next thing you'll just ask me to take care of everything for you two, huh?" Mr. Pleisier sharply replies. "How about I just be your sugar daddy from now on? Would you like that?" "Yea, I bet," Henry counters sarcastically. "Okay, I will. So, how's that game coming along?" he asks us. Honestly, I haven't hit a ball in a good five minutes. "It seems to me that your friend here is missing in on the action," the pimp smiles at my friend who is chugging his beer. "With those skills, I bet you like to play with yourself all the time," he chuckles. Our visitor is spot on. Henry has always been a monster at playing pool. I usually just hang out and enjoy the conversation when we come here. "Kelly doesn't need any help playing pool. He needs to just get better at finding his balls," my friend barks a jab me with one hand in his pants not really caring that we have a new member of our game. Henry's always had a thing for wanking himself off out in public - well, really everywhere. I've never really understood it, but he has no qualms jerking himself off at the most unfortunate times. He seems to get a kick out of it joking that he's jerked off at every place we've been to. Hell, we were kicked out of two different theaters just last month because of it. "I never get a chance to play because you're always hogging the balls!" I shout back chuckling at the double-entendre. "Well, at least I have some!" he responds grinning with another jab while pointing at the table. "See? There's only three left before I win." Henry stops playing again for another chug of his quickly disappearing beer. "Wow, you two are vicious to each other. Go easy on the little one, Henry. I bet he'll get to enjoy playing with balls as much as you once you're done with this game. Say, why are you so mean towards him anyway?" Mr. Pleisier gasps. "Because we've known each other forever," I say. "As much of a pain in the ass as he is, Henry has been my best friend since we were children." "And we trust each other, which is more than we can say about you." Henry replies sharply to our visitor. "Trust?" he answers. "Well, you're right. I really haven't given you a chance to trust me, yet. Huh? Let me show you that I'm to be trusted." Mr. Pleisier, in all of his brightly colored glory, calls out to the bartender. "Hey, barkeep. How about you pour up three more beers for my new friends and me." He then looks over to Henry incredulously. "Is that how you treat a guy who's bought you two beers so far?" Henry mumbles some choice words and turns around to examine his next play. "Hold on before you grab those beers. I want you to trust me, so I'm gonna give you a special treat to show that you can trust me, okay? I bet if you go to the bartender over there and ask for his special ingredient, then it'll be the best thing you'll drink tonight. In fact, I bet you'll even get a little addicted to it. Go! Go ask him," he pushes. Cautiously, I walk over to the bartender. He looks a little bored with no one in the bar except us. "Hey Kelly, here's your beer. What's going on with that new guy? Do you know him?" he grumbles while leaning against the back floor refrigerator with his arms crossed. "No, he's new. He told me that you have a secret ingredient to make this beer better, though. Can I have it?" I nervously reply not really knowing what Mr. Pleisier meant. I just hope he wasn't referring to any drugs. I've been strong enough to avoid them for this long, so it'll suck if this guy's plan is to get me high. "Um, yea, I do. I didn't think you were into that, though," he answers. "Well, I guess I'm open to try new stuff tonight," I say not really believing it. "Okay, then," he huffs while unbuckling his pants. "Come around here, and bring your beer." I do wondering why he's opening his pants. As I round the corner of the bar, I can see his hand holding his dick and stroking it. Geez, this guy is as bad as Henry! "Come here, Kelly, if you want the secret ingredient." I nervously approach him with the beer held out in front of me. "Hey, Kelly! I just sunk the eight ball," Henry screams across the bar. As he does, a new desire erupts in me - an awakening. I know what the secret ingredient is, and somehow I'm excited to be able to try it. So much so, that I lay the glass on the bar and reach down to help him jerk himself off. We stand facing each other with my hands stroking his thick, hard cock. I've never touched a man down there before, and the angle is making it a little more difficult than when I do it myself. In an attempt to hurry him up, I reach down to caress his balls. My hands tug and pull on this fleshy pole. I'm actually getting impatient for him to give me the secret sauce. It's both strange and exhilarating like I just crossed a taboo. The bartender's eyes are closed with his head tilted upward concentrating on the pleasure that I'm giving him. Suddenly, his hands reach up to my chest and begin to squeeze and press. I let out an involuntary gasp as the stimulation is more intense than I anticipated. I know that he's enjoying my ministrations, but it'd also be nice if he could hold more in his hands. Men like to hold large breasts, so I'm a little flummoxed at my lack of boob. Sorry, Mr. barkeep, you're just gonna have to make do with my hand job. His cock is starting to pulse and get warm, so he's probably getting close. I reach up and grab the beer just seconds before he lets loose a string of white, creamy jizz with a plop and a splash inside the stein. He moans loudly and almost collapses into the barstool he uses behind the counter with his softening dick still hanging out. Gleefully, I turn around and begin to chug the newly infused beer as I walk back to my friends two more gripped by my left hand. Mr. Pleisier was right. This IS delicious. I'm gonna have to get some more when I finish this one. Golly, I might even have to find a steady supply. Cum and beer - the perfect drink. Who'd a thunk it? "I see you like your drink now. Was I correct to assume that you like the secret ingredient?" my new friend asks. "You were right. I'm sorry I doubted you. This is amazing!" I apologize. Maybe this guy isn't so bad. "That's great. Say, be careful! I bet a person of your size could get drunk in just a drink or two. How tall are you, anyway? Five-one? Five-two? Say, are you even old enough to drink here? You don't look old enough to even be here," he replies seeming concerned about my health. "That's about right, I guess. I have a special deal with the bartender, so he lets me stay if Henry is around. Why are you so concerned, anyway? Don't party guys like you want drunk people around?" I counter just now noticing how tall the bar stools and tables are. "Not at all! Drunk people are just more of a headache, especially those that are underage like yourself. On top of that, I bet as tiny and cute as you are you'd have to fight off all of the drunk guys." Mr. Pleisier's tone is so supportive. It's like he's just become a big brother-type. I smile his way thankful that I have big, tough guys to look after me if anyone gets rowdy. A pull of my shirt reminds me that I haven't changed clothes, yet. They're so big and ugly. However, strangely, I can't remember if I brought anything to change into. "Are you okay?" Henry asks seeing my confusion. Geez, was I that obvious? "Um, do you remember if I brought anything else to wear? These clothes are so... ew," I ask. "Oh! Didn't you bring a bag with a change of clothes? There are some clothes that may be better looking on you behind the counter. Maybe you left them!" Taking his suggestion into consideration I walk over to the counter and spy a set of clothes folded close enough for me to grab. Lifting them up, I see a white (just about transparent), shirt with the bar's logo on it and what looks like a plaid, pleated skirt. The bottom of the shirt probably won't cover my belly, but anything is better than what I have on. "Isn't that your school uniform?" he suggests. I'm so silly! It IS my school uniform, well, at least the skirt. For the life of me I can't remember when I would have changed into this mess, but I guess I can wear this combination. Wearing school clothes and a bar shirt is kinda funny! "Those look a lot better. I bet you'll be able to show off those sexy feminine curves better with that number on." "Oh, yea. Thanks, mister." I don't mean to gush a little, but when a guy has all the right moves it's hard not to get gooey inside. "I'll go change," I say while walking to the restroom for privacy. For a second, though, I'm confused about which door to go into. It's not that I don't know...right? Funny, this is such a queer experience. Men! Men's room, you dumbnut! I turn right into the men's restroom and find myself alone with a pile of clothes. Placing the clothes on the almost chest- high counter, I quickly lose the oversized clothes, socks, and shoes and stand in the mirror inspecting my body wearing only the animal print underwear that I put on this morning. On a whim, I lose the bra as well now only wearing the thin string panties. My hips and belly seem a little fleshier than I remember, but it doesn't hurt how my ass looks with its heart shape. Tucked in tightly in the front is my bulge. Yes, I may like wearing cute clothes, but I'm still a guy even though I don't really look like one. To be honest, I'm confused with being a girl so often that I've stopped correcting people. Mr. Pleisier called me cute. What makes a guy cute, anyway? It's not like I'm gay or anything, but I gotta admit that the person looking at me in the mirror wouldn't pass for a boy much. Looking inside the shirt I see that it's a size three which is perfect for me. Well, not really. I'm more of a four or five, but with a curvy body like this who wouldn't want to show it off? It takes a little effort to unroll it over my head, but it forms tightly around my torso highlighting every curve and bump. It's thin enough that even my skin can be seen. Goodness, I might as well not wear anything as low as it dips and how much of my belly it reveals. The plaid skirt goes on next by stepping into it. It's really thin, though. Seeing how big my shoes are, I don't bother and instead just walk out of the restroom barefoot. As the door opens I turn to my right to the barroom. Wait a tick, didn't I enter through the men's room? Why am I leaving the girl's, then? "Hey, Mr. Pleisier!" Henry calls out beginning to grin a little showing that some of the ice may have cooled while I was busy getting more comfortable. "I have a special one for you. I bet you'll find the porn station on the big tv over there if you can find the remote." "There's a porn station?" he replies with a grin. "Yea, the bar owner watches it in the back room. That's why they never give us the remote. He's afraid of people finding out." His speech is starting to stutter from the beer. "Well, then, I guess I need to find that station, huh?" Mr. Pleisier suggests with what I thought was sarcasm. However, Henry agrees openly with his hand pulling on the outside of his pants. Insightfully, I wonder if there was a way for him to provide my special ingredient in the future. If he's gonna do that all the time, I might as well get something out of it. As we watch drinking out beers, our new friend walks over to the television, pushes a few buttons, and to our surprised eyes a guy and a girl are going at it on the screen. "Holy crap! You did it," Henry guffaws. Unlike my more morally loose friend, I'm not too impressed. Sure, it's a fun thing to have as a laugh, but it's just weird to have something that I'd normally watch alone out in the open. Oh well, I guess that's what the night's gonna turn into. "Eh, what do ya think, Kelly?" Mr. Pleisier nudges my arm. I smile closed-mouthed and nod a little embarrassed at what's transpiring on the screen. The darker skinned teen girl, probably from an equatorial country with dark brown features and hair and slightly angular eyes, bounces up and down on some dumb, muscled blonde guy. The skin contrast between the two was quite dramatic. Her puffy, cocoa-colored areola covers the majority of each of her bouncing breasts as their perkiness allows them to stay full while being flopped up and down. Both of them were moaning and grunting as her body springs up and down. "Wow, look at those tits! They're spectacular!" he cheers and looks at me. I'm not as animated in my excitement, and he notices. "You're not enjoying this?" "Meh," I shrug, "they're nice." "Oh, I get it. It's not like you don't see areola like that everyday, huh? That must be why you wore that bra, I bet. You made a good decision with forgoing it this time. You can't get the boy's attention without showing what you're packing, huh?" Mr. Pleisier calmly suggests making me take a double look in the bar's mirrors. He's right. My dark brown areola is plainly visible through the white, stretchy shirt. I reach up and run a finger along the outline of my chest. As I do, my forearm brushes up against one of the two puffy cones pointing out from my chest sending a jolt of electricity through my body causing a firm knob of flesh to poke out from the tip of each. Suddenly, I'm very intimate with the texture of the inside of this blouse as my nipples tent out. They've gotten really sensitive these last few months now that my breasts are starting to push out to the point to where they're noticeable. I mean, they're not mountains or anything, but they're mine. To be honest, I'm a little jealous of the girl on the screen and would kill to have perky boobies like hers. They make her so pretty. "Hey, Kelly! Looks like your headlights are on!" Henry teases before I stick my tongue out giving him a raspberry response. "So, what do you think, buddy? Do those types of girls turn you on?" Mr. Pleisier shouts at Henry who's not caring that we can see his hand stroking his hard-on through his pants. His pool stick is laying abandoned on the green, felt tabletop. "Yea, sure. I'm actually kind of tired of the usual fare around here. All these girls in this town are either blonde or brunette with nothing different to offer than the usual small town tease," he replies with a bit of frustration in his voice. "So, you're telling me that you'd like to see some diversity around here?" the pimp implies. It's funny. He almost sounds like he's taking notes. Maybe he IS a pimp and is just getting a flavor of the local demands. "Yea, dude. I think that'd be nice. There was this one chick back in school that was so hot. I think she was from somewhere like India or Thailand or someplace in Asia. Oh, man did she make my cock stand up. Absolutely beautiful," Henry calls out. "India and Thailand ARE in Asia, you dork!" I call out. "Yea? Whatever. What was her name...yea, Kalinda or something like that," his voice is now definitely being affected by the beers. "She was very pretty. I'd kill for a set of tits like hers," I blurt out imagining her firm breasts pushing out my own front. Too bad my little, pointy boobies don't hang proudly like hers did. I pull out the collar of my shirt to take a peek down from above. The mounds push out from my skinny chest with what looks like a brown strawberries as a cone pressing through the shirt. Sometimes we believe that she'd go bra less just to show off her dark brown areola. Maybe I'm subconsciously copying her. "What do you say we take a quick selfie? As a group," Mr. Pleisier offers which sounds like a good idea. Why not have a token of our night out? Henry looks at me oddly, then takes his drink and begins to finish it lifting it over his head triumphantly. "Sure why not?" he slurs. "Say, I saw you getting felt up by the bartender over there. I'm sure you'd like something for a guy to grab and play with, huh?" he whispers to me knowingly. "Maybe quite a bit more?" he winks while holding out his hands like he's holding a large pair of breasts on his own chest. I blush, embarrassed at being caught by his spying eyes and his understanding of my wants. Am I that transparent? First, he knew about my animal print panties, and now he knows how much I want large breasts. "I bet you're just as much as a tease with your tits as that girl. Did I mention that you have amazing tits?" Mr. Pleisier asks. I blush a little at the compliment. I know I shouldn't be so flippant with them around close friends (I don't want to be too much of a tease), but it's almost second nature to put them on display. We all smile as Mr. Pleisier brings his phone up to take our picture. As he does, I quickly lift up my top and jiggle my boobies just as the flash lights up the room and just as quickly bring it back down. We all laugh after as he checks the picture and glances at me knowingly. Henry doesn't bother looking at the picture, because he's too busy staring at my chest. My heart's beat is so strong that it should be visible. Wow, what a rush! "He's right, you know," Henry calls out. "You do have great boobs." "Thanks, but it'd be nice if they were bigger like that girl in the porno," I blush while trying to fluff them with my hands. They're too small and pressed in by the blouse to really move, though, but it gives the guys something to look at. "I have an 'I bet' for ya," Henry slurs, "I bet you'll let me play with your boobs." "Henry!" I gasp shocked that he would be so forward. "Ho, ho! That's a great one! So, Kalli, Kelli... which is it? Are you gonna just tease us all night, or are you gonna let him actually play with them?" Mr. Pleisier urges. "I bet if you were Kalinda it wouldn't be a problem letting him suck on her big titties." As much as I've walked around his place without a bra or teased him while we're out, he's never actually touched by breasts. "Um, sure. I guess. Henry, I think you've had enough to drink," I argue. "Nope, still chugging. Now, show us your tits!" He's starting to become a bit obnoxious. He does this from time-to-time, so I'm used to dealing with it. However, he's never openly ogled or asked to touch me. Putting my worries aside, I reach down to the bottom of the stretchy fabric and pull it up to my neck mirroring the classic image from many spring break videos. Both of their eyes are glued to my chest. While it does excite me a little, I'm still a little unnerved by the sudden demand to touch them. Gathering up my courage I stand straight arching my back to push the two pointed pyramids of flesh as far out as possible. The darkened areola contracts in the bar's atmosphere and small bumps rise up around the central nipple that's also hardening. Pointing out from my field of vision are two dark brown coned areola adorning my pubescent tanned mounds. As I continue to appreciate them I see that Henry has pulled his cock out and is openly masturbating as his other hand awkwardly reaches out to me. Gathering my wits I motion to Mr. Pleisier to my beer anticipating that Henry is gonna finish soon, and I could get another dip of that special sauce for my beer. With both of them so close I'm reminded of how much bigger both of them are to me. My skin instantly reacts to his touch as a shiver runs up my spine and goosebumps spread all over. Without any regard to how I feel about it his hand grips and squeezes my left breast slightly hurting it. "Ow! Careful, you oaf. Be gentle with them. They're sensitive," I plead. His groping turns to a rough petting, but it's an improvement so I don't push it anymore. After a moment or two of oddness, his attention begins to feel warmer and more pleasant. Hell, it's starting to turn me on. However, my own hardness is making the tight-fitting, animal print thong feel a little better as it releases my two little buddies from their confinement. A moan escapes my mouth as his attention increases. His other hand joins the other as it kneads and presses into my other breast. My eyes roll back as the pleasure intensifies making my legs weak enough to almost lose their ability to hold me upright. For the first time I'm being molested by Henry, in public, and I love it. Remembering his released manhood and my desire for a delicious beer, my hands reach down and grab his shaft tightly. As I stroke his warm erection, his hands seem to be able to lift my breasts up some as they buzz with all of his attention. They're feeling heavier and more substantial as they are bounced and pushed around. Henry's hands sink deeper now into the flesh as he drunkenly squeezes my chest. I let out a loud high-pitched moan as I reel in the pleasures of his manipulations. My hands tug and jerk at the root between his legs seemingly unable to harm it in my exertions. Then, his head leans down. I almost bring my head up to kiss him, but hold back as I see where he's going. Like a bullet through my chest, his warm, wet breath encloses my left nipple, and I wail out in passion in my feminine voice. It sounds like a girl's getting her some. My left hand leaves his manhood to trap his head at my bosom while I can feel his mouth applying a knee-breaking suction to it. "Oh, I bet those big Indian titties taste wonderful, don't they? Like curry perhaps, Ha! I'm sure Kalli is enjoying it, aren't cha?" Mr. Pleisier teases, and I shake my head in agreement between gasps. As he does, Henry's hand sinks deeply into the softness of my breast pushing it back into my chest forming a deep cleavage between the two. It then slides downward lifting it up from underneath to point it up to his mouth. While it may not be close enough for me to lick, it surely is close. God, I love when boys suck on my tits! "Hold on!" I interrupt our petting to scoot back to sit a bar stool because I don't think that I'll be able to continue standing if he continues. However, it seems really tall all of a sudden. I grunt as I push myself up sending my wobbly breasts into a fit bouncing this way and that sitting on the high chair. Henry loses his patience and grabs my waist before lifting me up. "Okay, Henry, you can continue," I invite with my hands pushing my chest out and wiggling them a little for effect. Their size is evident as my hands can't quite hold the entire fleshy globe. My two pointed mounds cover the view of my legs as I straddle the chair bracing for him to get aggressive. Once again he attacks them to the pleasure of our new friend standing to the side laughing. Hmph, that girl on the tv is cute, but she needs bigger tits like mine to really get the boys going. That's why I wear super tight blouses. With tits like these, I can command an entire room of men and women. Off to the side I can see us in one of the mirrors showing the stark contrast of my darker skin tone to his pale white. His head is deeply engaged into my chest as my arms return to his erection below. We both begin to moan loud enough for everyone to hear...if there were anyone. "Ok, buddy. I need you to go ahead and finish in my beer. I'll go get some more after you give me your special sauce," I stutter as my hands furiously tug on his member. He looks at me with that weird confused face before it slacks and his eyes roll back. A warm jet of something shoots across my wrist before I guide my half-empty beer to the tip to catch my prize. "Wow! I didn't know you two were a couple," Mr. Pleisier teases. A final pulse glops a thick, white blob of delicious goodness onto the side of the mug. Henry has the oddest expression right now. It's almost cartoony. I take a quick swig of the beer and relish the warmth of his cum with the lukewarm hoppiness that it's floating around in. "We're...not. I just...huff...like having my... titties sucked on," I try to explain but the sensations are jostling any coherent thought within my brain. "Okay, buddy. That's enough for now," my shaky voice tries to be firm enough to stop my friend's groping. He continues hungrily attacking my breasts. My brain is addled with the arousal, but everything in me is screaming for him to stop. He's my friend. We shouldn't be doing this, but... "Seriously, Henry! Stop, dude," I scream when I realize that I'm getting aroused to the point that I may make a mess in my panties. Plus, it would be embarrassing to spill my beer on him. In all of our years, we've never done that before. Yea, it's exciting, but now I'm looking at my best friend a little differently, and it's uncomfortable. His mouth leaves my left areola with a plop leaving a string of saliva still attached between us. "Henry, get ahold of yourself. I'm not like that, okay?" "Yea, maybe you're right, but you have the most magnificent tits I've ever seen...and you just got me off!" his voice is slurring to the point where we may need to hold off of giving him any more drinks for a while. "Yea, I know, but you gotta go easy of the goods. They're connected to a person, dude. They're not just some sex toy that you can play with anytime you want," I explain while pulling the shirt back over my head. My large bust makes the shirt stretch enough to pull the bar's logo out of shape. Below the logo, the top part of the phrase 'Try our special ingredient' is pulled out along the bottom of my breasts making the letters look like little balloons. My hands reach up to pull them both into place while I wonder why didn't wear the bra to hold them. "If I didn't know any better, I'd believe that your tits aren't real. Did you have surgery?" Mr. Pleisier asks. "Nope, they're all natural," I beam. "I bet you wouldn't believe it, but I'm not a girl," I admit to a dramatically shocked Mr. Pleisier. "Nope, just one day my body decided that it wanted to look like a girl. I know, weird huh?" "Well, I think you look sexy as hell. Have you ever thought about using them to make money, um...I'm sorry. What's your name again?" he asks flustered. "Kalinda, but everyone just calls me Kalli, and thank you for the compliment. No, I haven't. All the boys just look at me as if all I am is a pair of tits, but I have a brain, ya know. Wouldn't it be degrading to use my body like that?" I scoff. Henry is having a tough time staying upright, so I guide him over to the row of black, leather couches along the wall where he collapses with an 'oof'. "You're a good friend," he says drunkenly. "I know, buddy. Just rest for a little. I'll drive us home in a little while," I comfort. As I stand, I survey the darkly lit pool hall. Besides us, the place is empty save for the bartender. We can't just get up and leave, yet. Henry's gonna need a bit to get his bearings. "So...um...are you up for a game of pool?" I ask Mr. Pleisier realizing that I really haven't played much tonight. "Sure, in a second. I wanna talk while your buddy is out," he offers looking at Henry half-passed out. "You like showing off your body, don't cha?" "Oh, you mean with Henry? No, I haven't done any of that with him ever. I'd say that this is my first time with him, but you'd probably not believe it," I chuckle "Why do you show off your body, then?" Mr. Pleisier asks with what looks like a great deal of concern. He seems truly interested, so I feel more open about my thoughts. "Because guys like to see bouncing boobs and butts. Think about it. I'm providing a service for them," I explain very logically. Wait a tick, why did I just think of boys as 'them'? 'Us', Kalinda, 'us'. I'm a boy, too...I think. "You should see a guy's eyes light up when they realize that my, ahem, headlights are on. It totally makes their day." "If you're providing a service, then what do you charge?" he grins. "Charge?" I reply flummoxed at the insinuation that I could charge for such a thing. My hands reach down below my thick breasts and slide into the cleavage formed underneath taking the shirt material with it emphasizing their shape. Their size almost completely covers my hands. "Yea, charge. Why would you let guys play with your tits for free when you can get something out of it?" he explains. "Guys will pay to do it, I promise. All of my working girls are worth a lot of money, and none of them accept anything less than the highest fees in town. I'll tell you what, I bet if you listen to me you'd learn the business really good. My girls have more money than they'll ever spend, and I bet you'd be one of the best." The idea of actually charging guys to see my boobs has really never crossed my mind. Sure, I'd get a boy to pay for a tank of gas for a handjob, but it's altogether something else to make a living off of it. It sounds too good to be true. "I'll give you a free lesson. Your beer is almost empty, right? Go over there to the bar, walk behind the counter and fill it up with the beer of your choice. When he approaches you, turn around and get your special ingredient without asking. It's a win-win. You get your favorite drink and he gets his blowjob." Is this really gonna be that easy? He's making it sound so simple. Yea, putting cum in beer is amazingly delicious, but am I ready to just get it from the source? Well, if I'm gonna do it, I'd better get crackin'. No use wasting time thinking about it. "Okay, I'll do it," I agree before turning around and eyeing my target. He's a taller guy, dressed somewhat casual with a buttoned, solid colored, red shirt and denim blue jeans. The bartender looks like he could be in his upper twenties or thirties, but the stress of keeping this bar afloat seems to be taking its toll on his visage. I wouldn't call him attractive, but he's not ugly either. It won't take much to get him pliable, so I check my appearance in a mirror. The shirt has perfectly encased my braless, bouncing boobs so tightly that you can even see some of the bumps surrounding my areola. On such a small frame as mine they almost dominate the image. Guys like that. I tie up the shirt underneath my personal mountains to show off my waist and hips. They've gotten quite fleshy lately. The only thing in the mirror that doesn't scream sex is the face on top. It's just plain ole' me framed by my shoulder-length black hair. I strut around the bar end and begin pouring from the chrome tap into my beer mug. "Hey, what the hell?" the bartender barks out when we realizes I'm behind the counter taking the beer. His footsteps seem awfully loud as his body bumps into mine as he tries to stop the flow of beer by pushing the tap back. I let him grab my mug, and seeing that his arms have wrapped around me to fidget with the beer I slide around and drop to a crouching position with my back against the beer cooler and my head eye- level with his belt buckle. My now-free hands quickly make short work of his belt and fasteners, and before he can set the beer down and stop me my hands reach into his open pants pull his manhood out with a jerk and a stroke. "What are doing?" he valiantly tries to appear professional and above his body's sudden awareness that his personal business is being pleasured. No man could ever stop this after it starts. Their bodies are hardwired to accept this serendipitous pleasure as reward for being a man, and no man will ever turn it down for fear of it never returning. I stroke it a couple of times to get it hard and look up while still gripping it tightly and bringing it to my cheek. "Let's make a deal, okay?" I offer rubbing the head of his cock along the softness of my face. His eyes have already dilated. Cute. "Let me and my boys have the rest of the night's drinks on the house, and I'll take care of this guy here. Hell, I may even come back a few more times tonight if I like it enough. Whaddaya say, cutie?" His head bounces up and down violently agreeing to the deal and signaling his receptiveness to receive my services. Good boy. I look at the large, steel-hard, stick of flesh pointing to my eye and admire the curvature. With another rough stroke it hardens some more pulsing in my tight grip separating my fingers just a little. The pace of this evening has become a blur since Mr.Pleisier arrived. One time I'm playing pool with my buddy, and now I'm on my knees behind a bar earning my keep. For a second or so my mind reels in the sudden turn of events, but as I enclose the throbbing, pink head of his cock into my mouth a new idea pops into my head - opportunity. This may be the right move for me now. I could charge for this. This could be a livelihood. If I play my cards right, maybe Mr. Pleisier could teach me how to do this professionally. Just think, I wouldn't have to work anymore. I lick the tip to prime the pump but it tastes a little sweeter than any that has come before. This one is my first. This little fella is the start of a new me. With this cock, I'm now a professional. Tee hee! I'm a professional cocksucker. The bartender's hands roughly grip the sides of my head, and my focus returns to the task at hand. Oh, I gotta get this guy off quickly to get back to Mr. Pleisier. Time's money! I open up and swallow his manhood almost to the base. As I pull back, I wrap my lips tightly around the shaft and suck in to create a pulling sensation. The texture of his skin and the pulsing of the muscles underneath bring me back to a place where I feel the most productive and welcome. My head pushes forward overtaking the previous attempt until the base of his pelvis squishes my nose. I have to loosen my throat and swallow as the head forces its way to the back of my mouth allowing it to point downward and farther down. The bartender's groans come from somewhere up there, but I can feel the vibrations as they travel through my mouth to the tip in my throat. I pull back again noticing a trail of my saliva marking my progress along the length and savoring a drop of sticky precum that drips out the tip. His large hands pull my hair back to his hips forcing me to accept his cock a little faster than expected eliciting a groan from above and a slight cough from me. Those hips which cover my entire field of vision begin to pump forward as my hair is being pulled down. I know it sounds terrible, but it really isn't. In fact, it's a nice reprieve for my neck and back as he does all the work. My throat completely loosens and I go slack a little to avoid any pulled muscles. He's now in charge as he furiously fucks my mouth. His hard penis pistons in and out as he grunts in effort. Now that my hands are empty, I reach down to pull my shirt up so that I can caress my breasts. He's almost finished by the erratic nature of a man's thrusts right before they get super smooth and concentrated. I've always found that weird. A guy will get close to climax, and his thrusts go all herky- jerky, then they suddenly smooth out just seconds before he shoots. Beer! I need to get my beer if I want the secret ingredient. My hand frantically grabs the cold mug from the bar above me, and I quickly place it between my titties below my mouth shooting cold tendrils in all directions forcing goosebumps to erupt in a wave of chill. Feeling his cock begin to convulse I yank my head back and off of him and try to aim him downward into the beer. My entire bottom field of vision is of a large, amber liquid surrounded by two swells of flesh. He screams above me as lasers of creamy white globs of semen shoot downward onto the front of my throat bouncing then running into the beer mug below. Another blasts out followed by a forward push of his pelvis into my face spilling a little beer down my front. Not wanting to spill anymore, I bring my mouth down onto the tip of the spigot to collect any more spent essence directly from the tap. It's warmer and a little thicker, but always enjoyable. Not wasting any time, I jump up and give him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, cutie!" I say while gathering myself to return to the bossman, I mean, Mr. Pleisier. The poor guy sits back onto his stool completely spent. His shrinking dicky just barely pokes out of his opened jeans. "I'm back, boss!" I announce realizing that I'm getting a chill from the spilt beer on my shirt. "Geez, he spilt my beer," I whine. The liquid has turned much of my front transparent. "It's no problem, Kalli. You need to show off your assets anyway. So, I bet that you've changed your tune about working for me?" Mr. Pleisier assumes. "Yea, boss," I agree feeling a distinct tickle in my throat. Oh, I hope he didn't hurt anything in there, "Could you show me how to make a lot of money as one of your girls?" My smooth, feminine voice pours out of my voicebox like a teenage 900- phone sex operator. "Well, did you get anything for your efforts just now?" he interrogates sternly. "Yea, we don't need to worry about paying for beer for the rest of the night. Was that a good deal?" I ask running my finger across some of the embroidery on his jacket sleeve. The pattern reminds me of my grandma's fine dinner napkins we'd use during Thanksgiving, but it makes his jacket look unique. I look around the room to see if there's any more 'business opportunities', but an empty wooden-walled dive bar is all I can see. It's kinda sad, really. You'd think that we'd be in a better place to make some money. "Well, now that you're back, we can play that game you asked for earlier," he smiles. I smile back wondering if he could let me practice some more with him. Giving that guy a blowjob was fun, and now I want to do it again. Plus, I get a creamy surprise at the end. What is there not to love about being a cocksucker? "Is it okay if I break?" "Um, sure," I reply while taking another gulp of beer. "Let's make a wager, okay? For every ball I knock in I will tell you a trick to make the most money being one of my girls. For every one you knock in, I'll give you a chance to show the skills that I'm teaching you. What do ya say?" he offers. Wow, it's a win-win even if I lose. "Sure thing, boss," I giggle. He grins from ear to ear, "Good, then we'll start with me breaking. Is that okay, sweetie?" His voice is dripping with... bad vibes. It's like he's setting a trap for me, or something. With a closed mouth grin, turn away and take another gulp of my beer. For a second I just ignore the lesson and the game and luxuriate in the taste and texture of the semen. I'm hooked on it. Maybe I don't really need the beer anymore. I'll just start getting it from the source from now on. The crack of the balls jerks me out of my reverie, and I see two solids fall into the corner pockets. "Oh, there goes your balls. It's not like you need them to work for me anyway, amirite?" A sudden ache followed by a sharp tingling shoots up from between my legs. It's pretty strong but quickly dissipates leaving me feeling... less... down there. "Say, how can you fit all of your tackle in panties so small, anyway?" he asks. "You look so good in that skirt, I was wondering what you look like underneath." "Is this for the job?" I ask. I know that being a working girl will require me to be more open about my body, so I trust that he's asking for a reason. "Well, yea, I guess. Can I see your panties?" he repeats with a little more authority. "Sure," I acquiesce and lift up the skirt with my two hands. It feels weird to do this out here in the open. "Now hold on as I sink this next ball," he confidently commands lining up his shot. I continue to stand at attention with my skirt raised up in my hands awkwardly looking around. I hear the bump of the ball off of the side and the tell-tale rattle of a pool ball falling down a hole while glancing around. Wondering if I'm fitting right, I reach down with my right hand into the side of my panties and pull my clitty downward making sure that the front is nice and flat like a real girl. Its small size makes it almost imperceptible with the animal print. Mr. Pleisier looks my way and I quickly yank my hand back to the skirt. His leering, or are they just appreciative, eyes stay on my exposed crotch and he chuckles to himself. Does he not like what I look like down there? "Is something wrong?" I ask concerned that I'm not pleasing to him. He sinks another ball and looks at me. "Since you're from India, do you belly dance?" he inquires possibly to gauge my talents so he can market me better. However, I've never been in India. "I'm not sure. I'm adopted," I answer. "Oh, it's just you have such a luscious midsection and your movements are so smooth and flowing. Surely, you're trained to belly dance," I beam at his compliment. "Yes, I did as a kid, but these curves and how I walk are all natural," I look down to appreciate my little belly and wide hips with him. "Playing sports or running, or being active really don't appeal to me," I cock my hips to the side. "It's a talent that I seem to have been born with," I boast. Ever since I hit puberty, my hips seem to move completely separated from the rest of my body. "Say, are you gonna let me play?" I tease. "I'm not sure," he replies walking up to me. His hand reaches down between my legs and traces a finger up from between my legs to the top of the panties. I shudder visibly. "You seem to be having too much fun watching me take your balls away. I wonder... does your little thingee ever get hard when you get horny, little one?" My breath catches in my throat halting any voice I may have, so I answer with an emphatic shaking of my head. It's never really ever gotten hard. His aroma is unique and very masculine and is short-circuiting my senses. My breath is shallow and halting and my hands are trembling as they hold up the skirt. He leans away and pushes a ball into a corner pocket in a bold cheat. "Oh, there goes another ball. Well, then. You need another trick. I'm sure that if I press...right...here and curl my finger you can get it wet," his finger presses up just below the tip of my clitty in the flat space where most girls have their pussy. My body, already close to overloading, tenses up knowing that his finger is touching the tip and a very sensitive spot on the underside of my body. I know that I'll squirt if he pushes me any further over the edge, and it would be so embarrassing. I drop the skirt and reach up to grab him on his wide, padded shoulders to hold myself upright. My legs are quaking and an intense bubble of arousal is welling up within me. "I need my girls to always be ready for action and have no problem showing their men. Tell me, can you get my finger wet?" Losing control I grimace as my body instinctively presses and rubs downward on his finger begging for more sensation. My eyes look up pleading and I whimper begging for climax. "Go ahead, little one. Show me what a good whore you are." With that the bubble inside bursts flooding my entirety with the ecstasy of a climax and I wail loudly feeling my body eject squirt after squirt into my panties and onto the intruder pressing so wonderfully into my groin. How did he know where to press? It took me years of self-discovery to find my special spot, and he just walks over and commands it from me. His finger leaves my sticky panties, and he brings it up between us with a clear drip holding onto the tip. I smile exhaustedly proud that I could share such an intimate moment with my new boss. "Good girl," he states encouragingly. "Now, where were we?" "You were showing me how to be a good whore for you, boss," I answer still catching my breath. "Are you following along? I've given you quite a bit of information," he states. "It's all in here," I answer pointing to my head. "Alright, then. Let's line up another shot for you," he leans over concentrating with the pool stick sliding back and forth. He's so good at playing games. He's so good at anything. "You know, Kalinda. My girls need to be able to appreciate of their clients. They need to like them, to love them. That's the best thing about being a working girl. You're just a loving, fun little toy for the men to play with. How do you feel about that?" he asks looking at me while sinking the next ball. "That sounds great," I blurt out enthusiastically. Mr. Pleisier keeps adding more amazing reasons why I need to work for him with every tip. God! I can't wait to be one of his girls. Wow, this evening is getting better and better. "Awesome! That's good to hear," he chuckles. "I looks like there's only a couple left and it's a game." His announcement sounded like a tease. Golly, I want him to hurry up so I can start. "How about you go get freshened up, because we're about to get you started. Your evening purse is over on the bar table." My eyes light up and my heart skips a beat. Yes! Finally. "Let me just knock this last one in before the eight ball... and, there. Remember as you get ready, a pretty girl like yourself needs to look presentable and sexy, but sometimes your fashion choices are practical as well. Now, go get ready, beautiful." I almost squeal at the compliment. "But you haven't finished the game, sir. Don't you want to finish before I go?" "It can wait. Besides, you don't have any balls left anyway. There's nothing here for you anymore," he consoles. Indeed, the table has been swiped clean of every ball except the cue and the eight. Is this how pool is played? I never had a chance to play my own turn. "B-b-but I didn't get to play," I whine. "Sure you did, sexy. You've been hard at work learning how to make me money like a good whore should. You only have one more lesson left. Are you positive that you want to learn it? After all, you can turn back and leave here the way you came in," he offers pointing to my friend, Henry, passed out on the couch. "You can go back to school and learn to work hard hours for very little money. However, by the time you finally learn what you're best at you'll be too old to properly sell it. It'd be a shame really, toeing the company line, dealing with deadlines, and the constant demand for you to study, study, study." Wow, he really knows how to sell it. I'm so tired of studying, and all I can think about is how many ways I can make a boy cum. Will it really be too late if I wait? "Tell you what, I'll give you a little time to think it over," he says while sinking the eight ball with a loud thwack. "Go get ready in your power room, and let me know what you want to do when you come back. If you really want to be one of my girls, you need to give me something of yours. Bring me back that little thing that's in your panties, and I'll make you my newest slut. Go one, little one. Go get yourself ready for a lifetime of fucking and loving," he shoos me away with a flick of his wrists. I take a moment to turn around fully, in instead taking a few steps towards the restroom backwards. I spin around, grab my purse, and take a sharp left into the girls' room where the inside is lined with accent lights and black and white tile. My bare feet slap along the surface as I approach the counter. Because the counter is so high, I drag the little step stool over to the sinks and climb up. Doing so allows me to take in my reflection. He's right, I really am very pretty. My genes have taken care of that. Although, my largish, sharp nose is so telling about where I'm from. Maybe he'll have clients who want a girl like me. Henry's right, I don't fit in around here, so that should be a plus, right? Oh, what if he has a girl client? Mm, I'm not sure if I could be so intimate with another girl. I mean, I'm not gay, but he said that I need to love and appreciate my clients. It's just good business. First order of business, though, is to fix this unmanageable hair. Geez, it's so long and hard to keep under control. Hey, I have a great idea! How about it just braid it into twin ponytails? Perfect answer, right? It'll keep the mess tamed, and it'll give the boys something to hold onto while I conduct business (giggle!). Oh, conduct business, that sounds so official and important. Seriously, though, what did he say about 'one last thing'? Oh, yea...I have to give him my little buddy. Oh... That's a big one. I'd have to give him the last thing that I came in here with. My hands reach down to confirm its presence as if I'm saying goodbye. Tucked inside my panties is a little plug that I put in me. It's not really anything special anymore, but, darn, it's so hard to let go of something that I've gotten so accustomed to having. There such a finality of letting it go. I know that if I give him my last vestige of who I am, then I won't have anything to my name except what he can give me. I'll be completely his. But it'll be for the best, right? Sure having him know that I wear animal print panties is one thing, but I'll be giving him something that has been inside of me. Being a working girl is gonna be a great time - it has to be. All I have to do is let the cute boys play with me. It'll be so much fun to be handled around and caressed...and fucked. But I can't do that if I still have this thing in me. I again reach down and pull on it a little. I can feel a similar pulling sensation from inside. C'mon girl. Just yank it out and you'll be living the great life of a full-time slut. I look at myself bent over in the mirror and stand up straight. At my waist is the counter where my wide hips flare out to my cute, heart butt. Billowing out from my chest above a soft, sensitive belly is my bar shirt stretched thin by my bouncing titties. Peek through the fabric are two caps of darker, bumpy nubs that scream out for attention. Without a bra, they hang a little covering some of my belly but they still stand up and point straight ahead. Looking back at me are my two wide eyes, sharp nose, and my hands gently folding the hair into twin ponytails now that they aren't between my legs. I'm beautiful. Why would I want to keep it hidden in some cubicle in an office building. I'd probably not last very long anyway as I have a habit of teasing the boys. One of them would probably complain to HR. So, there it is... I guess I've made my decision. No, I'm sure of it. My hands reach down, pull the panties down to my legs, and grip the obstacle holding me back with an iron fist and tug with as much strength as I can without hurting myself. I want it out. I want to move on. It slides out with a piercing, sharp lightning bolt of burning pain. Determined, I again pull downward and now I can feel it slide from deep inside of me. The burning crescendos, and my hands pull my dildo free leaving me gaping widely and dripping. "Oh fuck!" I scream and take a moment to come down. I glance downward and am surprised at how small it is. How did such a small thing hurt so much pulling out? Oh well, I gotta get back to work. Boss man won't be happy if I spend too much time in the ladies room. Grabbing my purse, gripping the rubber plug, and with a hop I descend the step stool and head for the door barefoot. As I near the door, a rapid, pulsing beat vibrates the air. The DJ is feeling especially good tonight I bet. He'd better be. Momma's gonna need some more special sauce in a little while. The door opens and the bustling club that I now work at is teeming with horny guys and laser lights cutting green and blue streaks through the stage fog and cigar smoke. Gleefully, I skip over to Mr. Pleisier and hold out the silly, little plug/dildo. "Sorry, I forgot I had this in me," I apologize. "Don't let it happen again," he sternly replies. "I have a client for you. His name is Henry. I need you to show him how exotic you can be. He says he's bored with the local fare, so I thought you would be perfect for him." I look over to him and smile. Geez, he's a big boy... and cute. "See? I told you I'd find you a girl for the night." "Sure thing, boss," I sing while walking over to him and taking him by his muscled, tight arm. "Oh, boy, we're gonna have a fun time tonight. Has Mr. Pleisier discussed prices for our services?" I ask guiding him back to my private suite. God, I love being one of his call girls.