My makeup was heavier than a doctor's wallet on payday.I looked up at the sign hanging over the sleazy bar: 'The Tented Skirt'. It was not the sort of...place that you would ever find me in."Hi Michele," the bartender and the dozen or so sailors sitting at the bar sang out as I entered.I sauntered up to the bar and looked around."You got time for a stiff one?" the bartender asked."No thanks, I'll just have a drink," I replied.At the end of the bar a cheap transvestite hooker held a cocktail in. My cry followed as he hammered my distended ring. His fingers traced the curvature of my rear and one hand snaked to the front, zeroing on my pussy, swiping through soaked folds to my needy clit. My own hand'd be there if I wasn't clinging to the tap.Ragged breaths tickled my ear. "I turn up to fix your leak, and create another drip instead."He rolled firm fingertips over my jewel and I rocked my hips, spitting, "Fuck. Gonna come."With a flourish, he circled me just right, skimming the exposed. More

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