Crowded bars are incredible. I’d say they’re like a buffet, but buffets don’t just walk up and present themselves. I can just sit quietly at the bar and wait for the right option to come up and present himself. It really is just that easy. Other times, it’s even easier.

On the night in question, I was at the bar, sipping on my drink, wearing my trademark little black dress, which contrasted well with my pale skin and my auburn hair, with a neckline that dipped low enough to show off my 36C tits, and a hemline enough to show off enough of my legs to get plenty of attention.

I’d fielded plenty of potentials already, some of which I’d considered, some I hadn’t, some I went as far as dancing with before returning to my seat. As the evening wore on, I was starting to look for someone to end up with, whether it was someone who had already shot their shot or someone looking like they could use someone, when a hand grabbed mine. I looked up quickly, trying to figure out if I was flattered or offended, and I recognized a friend of mine, John, who I hadn’t been aware was even there that night. Wordlessly, he pulled me from my seat as I quickly finished my drink before allowing myself to be led away.

Over the sound of the pounding, thumping modern country music, no conversation was really possible, not that John tried. He led me towards the dance floor, but then veered off, taking me around the edge of it and towards the bathrooms. In the relative quiet and privacy of the dingy, graffiti covered hallway that led to the bathrooms, John turned and kissed me, a sentiment that I returned. John and I had hooked up a few times before, but this was surprisingly forward for him, owing largely to the sweet taste of liquid courage on his lips. He was no more than tipsy, though, considering his unslurred speech when he whispered that he missed me into my ear before nibbling on it. I giggled and sighed and asked him how much he missed me. He responded by moving his hand from my tits to my hand and dragging me into the men’s room.

I know the men’s room at this particular bar very well, having had all manner of hookups in it over the years. In fact, my name is on the wall at least twice, once where I signed it after blowing the owner after closing one night to settle a friend’s tab, and once where a friend jokingly put it under “For a good time call” with the phone number of the local Pizza Hut, a joke that I know for a fact the good folks over at the Hut do not appreciate. We breezed past someone at the urinal without a word of acknowledgment as John steered me into the far stall, labeled handicapped but not really any larger than any of the other stalls, I flailed my hand out behind me, managing to knock the seat down before I landed with a thud. John quickly undid his pants and shoved them down, revealing his stiff, respectable prick already hard and bobbing in the air. I leaned forward, my mouth open and ready to suck him off, but he shook his head urgently. I gave him a look, not particularly crazy about the lack of foreplay, but I know a man in need when I see one. I leaned back, lifting my ass off the seat and hiking my dress up, then rubbed my pussy over my lacy thong, preparing myself for his thick member.

As I let out my first moan, he lost what cool he still had and moved, in one quick motion, from standing there, stroking his condomed cock in the still-opened stall door to kneeling between my legs and pulling my panties to the side, revealing my cleanly shaved pussy. I quickly put my right leg up on the toilet paper holder as he scooped his arms under my back and pulled me into a more convenient position before roughly pushing inside my barely ready snatch. I let out a sound, more of a gasp than a moan as he pushed his full length inside me. He groaned out a steady stream of curse words as he twitched and throbbed inside me. We sat there for what felt like a long time, but any amount of time feels like a long time when you have your leg propped up on bathroom hardware. Sensing that he wasn’t about to make a move, I gently untangled my leg and pushed him gently backward, for lack of a better option. He didn’t resist and, without removing him from me, we softly fell backward onto the dirty bathroom floor. He didn’t seem to mind the grime, and Lord knows I’ve spent enough time on my knees on that floor, so there was no issue there.

I started moving my hips, drawing a gasp from him immediately. It was clear that this wasn’t going to be a long session. I reached up and removed the straps on my dress from my shoulders, shrugging them off and letting him see my tits. He grabbed them roughly, and I grabbed onto the toilet paper holder and planted my other hand on the opposite wall for leverage as I started fucking him. It wasn’t elegant or romantic, even by the standards of sex on a dirty bar bathroom floor. It was fucking with a goal, quick and urgent. I didn’t even break my stride as the door swung open and two other guys walked in. They made their comments, one even jokingly calling next. I just laughed and flipped him off and they went about their business, and I went about mine.

John didn’t last long. That’s not to say that it wasn’t fun. The surroundings and the slightly exposed nature of it, paired with the fact that John has a really nice cock, meant that every moan from me was genuine, he really was getting the work done, but he wasn’t there to go the distance. He got the unmistakable look on his face that said that time was nearly up, and I buried him deep with a groan from both of us, and I begged him to cum in my pussy. That was all it took, and that was probably more than was needed. I could feel the bucking of his cock firing off shots into the condom over and over again inside me.

I patiently waited until he was done before getting up, shakily, glad for the close walls to help me steady myself. He laid flat on his back for a moment, looking like he was about to fall asleep. He didn’t even move when I bent over and pulled the condom off his shrinking dick, tossing it back into the toilet with a plop. I kicked him softly as I stepped over him, and something between the kick and the view of me in a dress passing overhead brought him back to reality. I checked myself in the mirror, though my makeup hadn’t been bothered much by the encounter and my hair only needed a bit of touching up, as he stood and put his dick away. I asked him if he wanted to explain the urgency, and he shook his head. I shrugged and left the bathroom. If he didn’t want to talk, I was done with him.

I got my answer a few minutes later, anyway. I’d gotten back to my table quietly and ordered another drink before John came back out and, without looking at me, went back to his date at the bar as if nothing had happened. I couldn’t blame him too much. He wasn’t the only one I fucked that night, either.