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“What can I get y…. Oh, you, err, you just threw up a bit.”
The blonde girl on the other side of the bar wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tottered on her heels as if she was going to fall into the mess she had made on the floor. She didn’t though. She rallied and brought her wide-swinging attention back to me.
“Oops!” She said cheerfully. “Can I have five vodka, lemonade and lime and…” I cut her short.
“Sorry my dear, I think you’ve probably had a bit much already.” I waved my arm to get the attention of one of the door staff. “You should head home now. Is there someone to take you?”
The skinny blonde, still swaying on her heels but totally unperturbed by events, curtsied in mock deference.
“As you wish, Master.” And off she stumbled to her friends, shadowed by Fay and Ronnie, the two door staff that would make sure the group left in good order. I turned my attention to the vomit on the floor, grabbing a mop and bucket from a cupboard behind the bar.
I was nearly done when Wednesday Adams appeared at my side, holding a tray cluttered with dirty glasses. She bumped me with her hip, putting me off balance as I leant over the mop; though the impact didn’t even cause a single glass to wobble, such was her bar keeping prowess.
“Nice.” She said with a grimace, looking down at the hardwood floor I was in the process of cleaning. “Bulimia-Barbie made a real mess for you there, Ken.” She laughed. “We should start charging people a deposit on entry to cover damages to the Dream House”.
I leant on my mop and levelled a blank stare at her. Wednesday Adams wasn’t actually called ‘Wednesday Adams’. She had, for some godforsaken reason been christened ‘Winnifred Allan’, but her gothy style and sardonic humour had guaranteed that from the moment she was able to pick her own wardrobe, she had been nicknamed after the daughter in the Adams Family. It was a name she revelled in.
For that matter, I wasn’t called Ken. Everyone knew me by my actual name of Matt but, since I once turned up for work in a slightly flamboyant shirt (and had a very ‘Barbie-esque’ girlfriend at the time, Wednesday had called me Ken. It was not a name I enjoyed.
“Are you going to help, Dita von Dick-Tease? Or are you just going to wave your butt at me?” I shot back to her. Wednesday always wore the same outfit to work; black converse low-tops, black leggings or skinny jeans and a black, scoop-neck top that showed her cleavage whenever she bent over to get ice from the machine. It would be fair to say that I had a bit of a crush on her.
Wednesday answered by twisting herself so she could stick her ass out at me while also sticking out her tongue.
“Fuck off, Ken. I’ve got my own things to do. If you want to get skinny blonde bitches drunk enough that they might sleep with you, don’t expect me to help clear up the mess when they inevitably poison themselves instead.”
With that, she disappeared round the other end of the bar to continue an unremarkable Tuesday night, working in a bar in the centre of Newcastle. I got back to mopping up Barbie’s last meal.
_______________________
At closing time that night, the bar manager disappeared and left me and Wednesday to shut up shop for the night. This was not an unusual event – I had lost count of the number of times I had been the last one out of the trendy bar.
Wednesday and I had kept up our banter for the entire shift, giving no quarter and expecting none in return. The staff were a good bunch and we all got on well, with jokes and banter flying in all directions, but I most enjoyed my time sparring with Wednesday.
Once it was just the two of us, however, she seemed to be really quiet, like she was about to say something but couldn’t make an opening.
“Ken, I want to tell you something.” She eventually said, once all the jobs were done. I grabbed two bottles of lager from the fridge, pulled out a chair and sat at a small table, offering the other chair and the other beer to my tongue-tied colleague.
“I’m Kızılay Escort all ears, my Queen of the Damned”, I said taking a swig of my drink.
Wednesday slumped into the chair like her bones were made of rubber, then immediately sat forward like her muscles were all tensed simultaneously, then flopped her elbows onto the table in a despairing motion. Each movement, powered by a different emotion.
“Oh spit it out Winnie.” I demanded. “I can see it’s killing you.”
“I…” She stopped again. “I… I have an OnlyFans.” She finally, regretfully, agonisingly said. I didn’t have to ask what OnlyFans was.
Well this was some interesting news. My mind immediately raced to the Always Sunny meme; ‘Oh, my God, that’s disgusting! Naked pics online? Where? Where did he post those?’ But I kept my interest veiled and responded with the coolest “Ok…” I have ever pulled off in my life.
“It’s not a big thing” she continued “and I have only been doing it for about a month, but I have started getting some subscribers and the extra money is really nice.”
So… was she trying to get me to subscribe? I tried another ‘Ok…” and she carried on talking.
“So I normally do content on my own.”
Content meant getting naked and stuff, didn’t it? I wondered.
“And I make it with Guy.”
Dickhead Guy, her kind-of-boyfriend. Their relationship had never been clear to me.
“And I call myself Wednesday Adams, so I have a gimmick where I do content every Tuesday night, so it is ready for my subs to watch on Wednesday.”
“Ok…” I offered again.
“And Guy and I had a fight today and I’m not sure if we’re still together and I have just started to get some really loyal people that always tip well on a Wednesday…”
“Ok…” I said, proving my conversational mastery.
“And I wanted to ask a massive, massive, totally weird favour. And… Oh, my God…” she trailed off, putting her head in her hands.
She rallied herself. “I want you to do something with me on cam tonight. Like make some content.”
“Ok… wait, no. Not ok. What do you mean, make some content? You want me to do a sex show on the internet?!?!”
“No! Well, yes! But it’s kinda… uurgh.” She slumped further into her despair.
After a very long pause in which neither of us spoke, she finally said in a small and timid voice “I just need you to cum on me. Yo-you don’t need to really be on camera at all. Just get yourself off and… when you’re ready…. Cum on me. It’s a whole, thing… boys love it.”
She said nearly all of this while hiding her face behind her hands and blushing furiously. Her pale complexion had a vibrant pink showing through it.
Did I want to jerk myself off onto Wednesday? Of course, I’d done it a million times in my mind. Did I want to do it online, and have the evidence preserved forever for anyone to find? No, not even a little bit. But I knew Wednesday had summoned a lot of courage to ask me, so I had to be gentle with how I let her down.
“No fucking way!” I blurted out, angrily. “Are you kidding me? I’m not a porn-star?”
“And neither am I!” she half-shouted, half cried. There were tears in her eyes now. “I’m not a fucking porn-star. I just cant pay rent on what I make here while also paying for my degree and… and… I’ve been trying so hard to find other ways, but this month is the closest I have been to making ends meet in two years and, I know, it must make me a whore,” she spat, “but this can save my life.”
The bar was very quiet.
I felt like a dick. I hadn’t even known she was studying. I did not want my dick on the internet; I did not want her to feel worse. What the hell was I meant to do?
“Ok.” I said with the smallest amount of conviction.
“Ok?”
“Ok.” I said, more firmly. I’ll do it. I don’t want to be the next Ron Jeremy, so if you can minimise my screen time, that would be great.”
Wednesday sniffed and wiped the corner of her eyes with Kolej Escort a bar napkin. She was smiling beautifully and an alarm bell at the back of my brain did warn me that my inability to say no to crying girls was going to eventually get me in trouble, if it hadn’t just done so.
“Thanks Matt. I really, really appreciate it.” I waited a second, trying to word the question my dick wanted me to ask.
“Where, um, where do you want me to cum? I asked, sounding about as confident as a mouse.
“Oh,” Wednesday said, with a sheepish smile, “In my knickers.”
Ahh fuck, I knew this was going to be get weird.
“I have to wear your pants?!” I blurted out. This got a proper, nose-snorting laugh out of Wednesday (a pretty rare thing).
“No, dickhead. I will be wearing my pants. You just need to jizz in them.”
Ahh, that probably made more sense and, for the first time, part of me (a very specific part) was excited to be doing this.
“So, shall we lock up here and head to your place?” I asked, draining my beer.
“Errr, I actually was going to ask if we could film it here?” She said, shy again. “I want to get the Q flawless pale skin; firm, small, round breasts with pretty pink nipples; black lipstick; raven black hair (on her head); a totally shaven mons; and a sweet looking pussy that she started to stroke and tease.
I pulled my cock out into the open air of the bar and started stroking it reflexively. I knew the real-life Wednesday was watching me but I kept focussed on her ‘on screen’ self.
As the virtual Wednesday got more turned on and graphic, I pumped my stick harder, keen not to linger on this event.
I heard the real Wednesday signing off to her live viewers, reminding them to catch her ‘Wednesday upload’ in a few hours. Then she reached out and did something to her phone.
She walked to her handbag and I was intensely aware of her eyes on my cock. Considering how dispassionate this was, her attention was 50% intimidating and 50% exhilarating. After a few seconds of searching, she came back with a small bottle of lube. She walked right up to me, well inside my personal space then, indicating I should stop for a moment, squeezed a line of the shockingly cold jelly onto the top of my shaft.
“Ok, off you go!” She said cheerfully.
I resumed my stroking and immediately felt the benefit of the lube, especially as a girl had applied it to my poor, confused dick.
She took her place in front of her phone and touched the screen again. After a few seconds, she started talking again.
“I just finished work and I am sooo horny. I was working with this absolutely gorgeous guy.”
Wait, was she talking about me? Who was she talking to?
“He’s got a really nice body and I love his tattoo.”
I looked down at my sleeve tattoo, then back at her.
“I think he must have a really nice, thick cock. I’d love to taste him.” She was starting to squirm in her chair now and her hands came up and started massaging her boobs through her top.
I’d never heard any girl talk about me like this, let alone one I hadn’t even kissed!
“He’s got me so worked up, I’m going to have to give myself some relief.”
I hardly recognised her voice. She was really vamping it up; talking in a slow breathy way. I did, now, recognise who she was talking to. She was making a video, and this was the preamble prior to me making my entrance.
My hand sped up on my cock a little as she produced the bottle of lube in view of the camera.
“I better put some lube on my little kitty.” She simpered. But when she went to squeeze some onto her fingers, none came out. I knew this was a trick because the bottle had looked pretty full when she’d used it on me.
“Oh dear, there’s none left. What can I do?” She wailed like a drama student auditioning as Juliette. “Oh, wait. Here’s someone that can help me!”
Wednesday stood up and picked up the phone, angling it down so it could not see higher than Maltepe Escort her waist. She walked over to where I was and I quickly pocketed my phone, still with the digital Wednesday masturbating to orgasm on it. She looked me in the eyes and mouthed ‘Ready?’ To which I gave an affirmative nod that I hoped was true.
Wednesday used one hand to tug her black leggings half-way down her thighs, suddenly exposing her light pink cotton thong. My dick gave a throb in my hand.
Her smooth tummy above the elastic of the thong was a sea of perfection in itself and the firm flesh of her thighs was calling put for me to run my hand over it. Most of my attention mm however, was on the lines of her pussy, slightly visible through the thin pink material.
My attention intensified as Wednesday angled the phone to give it the best view and then pulled her waistband forward. I could now see the pink folds of her bare pussy, the tiny pink bud of her clit peeking out between them. My dick gave another warning throb.
“Please, give it to me.” Wednesday panted.
Having been unsure I could perform on cue a moment before, I was now straining for my release. I stepped closer to her and angled my cock downwards to compensate for our difference in height.
“Please… Please… Please…” she continued to breathe as I furiously thrashed my dick, centimetres from her skin.
Wednesday pushed her hips further forward and her pussy lips just kissed the head of my cock. That was all it took.
Biting my tongue to avoid making a sound, I sprayed a jet of cum out the end of my cock, splashing onto her clit and ricocheting onto the inside of her thong. The next throb, less powerful than the last, shot another rope of jizz onto her lips where the sticky semen clung to her soft skin. The final spurt landed straight into the gusset of her knickers. After that, heavy drips of my cream came from me, to be caught on the material as she dragged the elastic waistband up the underside of my cock.
Wednesday coo’d all the right noises about my gift to her while she stepped back, keeping the phone focussed on her groin. She then let her thong snap back into position, smooshing my sticky cum all over her pussy. The pink cotton immediately went darker, as my semen soaked into it. I was transfixed.
Wednesday replaced the phone on the table and returned to her chair. Rather than sitting down, she knelt on it, facing the back, with her ass pointed at the camera. The mess I had left on her was clearly visible as her leggings were still rolled down her thighs.
Moaning in an exaggerated way, Wednesday slid her fingers back between her legs, rubbing the saturated material against her slippery lips. Although I had just had an orgasm, my attention was riveted to that spot. The building could have caught fire and I would not have looked away.
Next, she pushed the sodden thong to the side, exposing her pussy (and cute little butthole, I noticed) to the camera. With increasing intensity, she started rubbing her pussy and groaning theatrically. It wasn’t long before she slipped one, then two fingers inside herself, masturbating with my cum as her lube. My semi-hard cock watched on in jealousy.
She alternated penetrating and rubbing for another minute or two before announcing, loudly, that she was going to cum. Moments later, her body was wracked by a long, shaking orgasm that was accompanied by a soundtrack of wailing and moaning. It was brilliant to watch.
As she came down from her orgasm, Wednesday turned around and sat heavily in the chair. She looked dead in the camera and licked her fingers clean while thanking everyone for subscribing and telling them what else they could expect as members. With a blown kiss, she turned off the phone and then looked up at me.
“Matt, that was so great. Thank you. Thank you.”
“I, er, no problem.” I stammered. “Are you ok? Was that, erm, was that ok?”
“Oh, yeah, I had a really nice orgasm, thanks.” (I was not sure that was what I had meant to ask). “Obviously I have to ham it up for the camera, but it was a really nice one all the same.
Having caught her breath, she stood up and rearranged her underwear and leggings.
“Thank you again. I mean it.” She went on tip-toes and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “If you don’t mind, I am going to go get cleaned up.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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