He watched me as I approached him and pulled my shirt over my head. I threw it on the stool and turned to him. I tugged at his shirt and he lifted it off, dropping it on top of mine.
He stood in front of me, not touching me, his chest moving at the same rapid pace mine was.
“Are you asking me to fuck you on this bar?” he asked in a deep, ragged tone.
I stepped forward and hooked my fingers over his belt. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
Without replying, he pulled me over to one of the booths, the one closest to the door.
I watched as he pulled down his jeans and pants, letting his cock spring free, and sat back on one of the leather chairs.
“Come here,” he said, holding his hand out. I took it and he pulled me to him, rolling my jeans down my legs until I stepped out of them and my shoes. He pulled me on top of him and his cock rub
