SLIPPING INTO DEPRAVITY - Ch. 01, The Question of Panties

KAYLEY'S FIRST MEN'S ROOM ENCOUNTER, PART ONE OF TWO

SAM POV

We continued to fuck like bunnies.  We’d call each other from work and talk dirty, and then race home. One day I took a long lunch hour; to sneak over to her workplace and I ate her out in the copy room. Another time, she jerked me off at the back of a crowded Starbucks with a newspaper on my lap.

There was something though, about the encounter with Roger. It liberated her, it freed her from any subliminal concern about jealousy. One day, I caught her checking out a hot guy, and then she noticed me watching her. I just smiled and nodded, and she beamed happily. Without ever speaking, we gave each other guy to appreciate hot guys and girls. Suddenly, we were pointing out abs, breasts and ass, long hair, or luscious features.

One day at a park, we were sprawled out on a blanket, and a frisbee player ran past in a tank top.

“I’d hit that!” she whispered, and we both broke into laughter.

Roger slipped back into conversation. One night, as I fucked her, my cock ramming in and out of her drenched, tight pussy, I whispered in her ear.

“Aren’t you sorry you didn’t go home with Roger?”

Her gale of laughter tightened her body so much her pussy clamped like a vise and she squirted me out like toothpaste. I rammed back in, we wrestled and rolled around, giggling and laughing.

Another evening after finishing making love, she turned and whispered lovingly in my ear, “I’m not finished yet, do you think Roger is available.”

We both howled.

We had a private joke, sometimes, walking into a bar or a venue or any new place, one of us would say “Do you think Roger’s here?”

But also, in my mind, sometimes I imagined him fucking her, his cock in place of mine, her legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust deep.  I imagined her kneeling in front of him, taking his cock in her mouth. His semen dripping from her pussy. It wasn’t an obsession by any means, just a daydream, a might have been from some other silly universe.

%%%

“Do you think Roger’s here,” Kayley asked me, as we head into this neighborhood tavern. There was a bar band playing covers we liked, so we decided to try it out.

“Probably not,” I replied. “But you know, there’s other fish in the sea. Maybe there’s another hot guy I could watch you flirt with.”

“You’d watch me flirt?”

“Fuck yes! You’re so hot when you flirt!”

“When I flirt with you, you mean?”

“When you flirt with anyone, you are a goddess!”

“You’d watch that?”

“I’d love it.”

She slowed and stopped in front of the bar; her expression mischievous.

“You’d be able to handle it?”

“I’d have a raging boner,” I said. “You flirt with anyone you want, as long as you come home with me.”

“I like the sound of that,” she mused. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I said, I was intrigued.

“Tell you what,” she said. “Let me go in first. You come in after, find a spot to watch me. We’ll see if someone hits on me. I’ll flirt. When you’re ready, just come over, and I go home with you.”

I smiled.

“I’ll warn you though,” I said. “I might be so fucking hard.”

She laughed.

“I guarantee I’ll be so fucking wet.”

Just like that, I was  rigid.

&&&

Kayley was already sitting at the bar on a  stool when I  walked in.  The bar was less than half full. Kayley was still sitting alone.  Her gaze passed over me as I wandered in, we exchanged the barest nods.  I took a seat at the table where I could have a good view.

God, she was gorgeous. She was wearing a short dress that showed off her legs, white boots and a push-up bra really accentuated her bosom.

A moment later, a blowsy blonde sat next to me, cleavage spilling out of her tight top.

“Anyone sitting here?”  She asked, not waiting for an answer. Her hand slid onto my knee. “I’m Amy,” she announced, “come here often.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Kayley giggling.

Eventually, about ten minutes later, an older bearded guy, Colin, approached Kayley to offer to buy her a drink. Kayley smiled and accepted, inviting him to join her. She shifted in her seat, her long legs scissoring.

Amy turned out to be far more handsy than Colin, which Kayley thoroughly enjoyed. The only downside was our companions made it a little difficult to watch the show. At one point, Colin spotted Kayley watching Amy thrust her breasts in my face.

After an hour, we both excused ourselves, our companions too sweet to let down harshly. We made our way home, and spent the night laughing and having wild sex.

&&&

This was our new game. We’d pick a bar and Kayley would troll for admirers.  We’d go in separately, I’d find someplace with a good vantage point, Kayley would dress up sexy – tight jeans, short skirts, tank tops, dresses, she was always magnetic, with red hair, red lips and high heels completing the ensemble.

She was never alone for long. Before too long, a suitor would appear, offering a drink, asking to sit, or just moving in.

She’d sparkle.

It was always someone different. Someone old, or young, tall or short. Some heavy, morbidly overweight businessman, or some sleazy hustler. She always smiled, radiant, engaging. Unfailingly polite. Some moved on, dismissed. Others hung in.

I loved watching her, and the thing I loved most was her enjoying herself. When she seemed bored or annoyed, I’d move in, without waiting for a signal.

Other times, she’d seem charmed, and I’d hang back, enjoying her glow. Watching her flashing smile, or her laugh. The way she’d lean forward to give a view of cleavage, or blush at some compliment or proposition, or touch a hand or arm if she was particularly into it.

I liked watching the men as well, some of them careful and polite, others eager and bold, stealing glimpses of her cleavage or legs when they thought she wasn’t looking, pretending to laugh when she did.

I learned to spot the ones who genuinely enjoyed her company when she was on, and the ones who were merely desperate to get laid.

In the end, I’d always collect her, and we’d usually head home, for hot sex, tearing clothes off, climbing each other. Sometimes we wouldn’t make it home, pulling into some alley or quiet spot where we’d climb into the back seats for some wild consummation.

We’d talk about them, sometimes on the ride back, sometimes after sex. Kayley was always wonderful, discussing almost every man who flirted with her with warmth and compassion, enjoying their company, and seeing something worthwhile in most of them. Even the ones that hadn’t been sexually interesting.

As to the ones that did, she often surprised me.

“Maybe I should have gone home with him,” she mused, talking about a tall skinny artist type, who’d turned out to be a comic book collector.

“Him?” I teased. “Should I have let you?”

“Maybe,” she said. “He was passionate, you know. Just loved his thing, I think he was over the moon that a woman was interested. And he was kind, you could see it in him, and gentle. Like a poet.”

Another time.

“Oh just raw muscle,” she said. “Not a brain in his head. You look at him and wonder what it would be like to ride that pony.”

Some were suave, some were sleazy, I guess they pressed different buttons in different ways.

“I really enjoyed talking to him,” she said, “because he was enjoying it so much. I mean, a fat, lonely old salesman, puffing his way through life, stuck overnight in a strange city. And suddenly, he’s having this really great conversation with this hottie.”

“He was just happy,” she finished. “And happy is infectious.”

“You should have gone back to his hotel with him,” I said. “I would have waited.”

She laughed and hit me with a pillow, and we rolled around the bed.

One of the things I loved about it, is that it made her sexier. It made her feel sexier. Two people can be in love and have crazy sex all the time, but you’re seeing each other constantly, you’re seeing each other at breakfast and tired from work. Sometimes it takes the edge off your special sexiness together.

But when we played with this, she’d blossom. She just let her sexiness out, and she let herself feel it. She indulged it. She wore lingerie and jewelry, make up and bright lipstick, heels. We bought her fishnet, stockings and tops. Tight skirts, push up bras, demi-cups, see through tops, transparent panels in fabric, or strategically placed cuts. She’d model for me, as we experimented with looks, sometimes classy, sometimes goth or punk, sometimes sleazy and sometimes so cheap that men made offers.

I loved seeing her like this, sometimes I’d go in first, and wait and watch as she made her entrance and half the men in the room would check her out. She’d take her seat, pretending not to notice, but I could feel her pleasure, I could literally feel her sparkle.

We tried different places, enjoying the effect.

But in the end, no matter who she flirted with or smiled at, I’d always appear, and she’d always gracefully excuse herself and come home with me.

I suppose we should have known it wouldn’t stop there, and that sooner or later, she’d be claimed.

%%%

This bar was nothing special. I wouldn’t call it a dive bar, but if it wasn’t it just barely missed that mark. It hovered on the edges of the seedy side of town, its exterior nondescript.

We really only decided to try it because we’d driven past it a dozen times of the preceding months.

‘Have we been in there?” Kayley asked, as we passed by. The sign said ‘Paddy’s” in old fashioned neon.

She was wearing a satin dress with neck line plunging to her navel, opera gloves and costume jewelry. We’d just come from this retro place, all red velvet, leather and brass, where an older gentleman had spent half an hour talking about Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr, who it had turned out, were both bisexual, all the while staring at her hard nipples and managing to cop a feel.

Oh yes, we’d progressed to the part where she enjoyed being felt up. The right men, sufficiently charming or arousing, if they were bold enough, might be rewarded with an intimate kiss, perhaps fingertips along an erection, a furtive hand beneath folds of fabric to cup bare breast or tease a nipple, even a hand along the inside of her thigh, never quite reaching, but exciting.

I watched it all, and together after, we’d tease and laugh and relive it, recreating certain moments, pressing to completion.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “It doesn’t look like anything much. Seems like a neighborhood bar, probably regular patrons, local.”

She shrugged.

“Might be fun,” she said. “Let’s check it out.”

I nodded.

That night, she straddled me, riding slowly, while telling me insane stories about Sammy Davis Jr. deep throating Marilyn Chamber’s boyfriend, while I pulled her nipples so hard they were distended. When she came, she squirted all over me.

###

“What do you think? Leather skirt?” She held it up.

She was wearing fishnet stockings, a favorite of mine, with a black garter belt, and red lace panties. An open cup bra, lifted her breasts and pushed her nipples forward.

“Or maybe the miniskirt?”

Fuck, I loved it when she dressed up. I was hard already.

“The leather skirt, definitely, it works with the stockings. The miniskirt is too short for them.”

She nodded, shimmying into them. Nonchalantly, she selected a lace tank top that didn’t show much cleavage but bared her midriff and clung like a second skin, and a mesh pullover that covered her but didn’t hide much of anything.

Kayley turned to sit at the mirror with her make-up.

“Dangly earrings or hoops?”

“Dangly,” said. “Hoops is a little too close to hooker with that look.”

She nodded, doing her make-up. Not too heavy, an eyeliner, shiny red lipstick. She snapped her lips.

“Showtime.”

I stepped up and nuzzled, her neck until she purred.

“We can just stay in tonight,” I said. “We could role play?”

She giggled.

“But I’m all dressed up,” Kayley said.  She kissed my cheek; I could feel the lipstick. “Wait until tonight.”

I grabbed a trench coat for her, so she wasn’t too provocative, and we drove over. I pulled into the parking lot. Judging by the lot, it was probably pretty empty. Maybe, I thought, we should try a busier night? But then again, strange place, maybe empty was better.

“How do you want to do this?”

She gazed at the neon.

“I think I’ll go in first,” she shivered. “These don’t look like safe streets.”

“It is kind of the scuzzy edge,” I agreed. “I’ll watch you go in, then follow.”

She nodded.

“Ten or fifteen minutes?”

“About right,” I said.

She flashed me a sparkling smile, red lips shining from the streetlight reflecting off the car windows.

“Showtime,” she said. “I do it for you, you know.”

“Liar,” I teased. “You get off on it.”

“We both do!”

She stepped out of the car and I watched her sashay across the street into the bar, putting a little extra wiggle into her hips just for me.

I took out my phone, contorting my hips to allow my erection to breath. Ten minutes should be time enough for it to subside a little and for me to get out and walk without everyone noticing how happy I am.

When I arrived at the bar, Kayley had already drawn her suitor. Her eyes didn’t so much as flicker towards me when I walked in. But as I passed, she gave the tiniest nod, smiling brilliantly and maintaining eye contact with the gentleman she was chatting with.

I got a fleeting impression of an older man, thirties, sallow skin, stubble, roughly groomed hair.

The bar was fairly empty, most of the patrons hung towards the back, or in booths. There were plenty of empty tables, I took one, ensuring a clear view. The server came up, and we made small talk while I ordered a beer. After she left, I took out my smart phone and pretended to study it.

I wasn’t close enough to listen in. That was disappointing. Sometimes, if it was crowded enough, I could be close enough to hear her laughter. Once, I sat right next to her companion at the bar, listening to every word they said, catching Kayley’s eye as she’d look past his shoulder, exchanging wicked grins. That was a hot night.

She was enjoying herself, smile flashing, occasionally giggling. She leaned forward as he spoke, and he didn’t hide the fact that he looked directly at her breasts. She took a sip of her drink, leaned back, squaring her shoulders and crossed and recrossed her legs. A very good sign, she was definitely sparkling and enjoying herself.

Her companion wasn’t that impressive. Thirties?  At least that, and with some hard living. He had a full head of hair, prematurely graying at the temples, swept back in a style that used to be fashionable. He’d probably considered himself pretty hot stuff back in his day. Tight jeans, a bit too tight, work boots, and a faded bomber jacket completed his look.

Cheap, a bit sleazy, he had the look of a hustler. The sort of guy that hung around bars, always a smile and a line of bull. Hot stuff in his twenties, but after a while, life would start to pass him by as everyone else grew up and moved on. I’d bet his pick-up lines were ten years old.

As I watched Kayley laugh, and lean forward again, her foot swung out casually, brushing against his leg. He pretended not to notice, but when he leaned forward to whisper, he touched her arm and when she turned her head to listen, he looked directly down her cleavage.

I put down my phone for a minute to drink my beer, looking directly at them. Oh yes, she was enjoying herself.

He must have been a charmer.

Kayley laughed at something he said, her smile flashing. The bartender came by. They spoke briefly. He poured another glass of wine. Her second?

He leaned forward, his hand sliding forward between her thighs, under her leather skirt. Kayley gave a squeak and clamped her legs together. Without breaking eye contact, without losing a watt from her smile, she reached down casually and guided his hand back, and they continued their conversation.

A moment later, Kayley shifted in her chair, taking a deep drink of wine. Her back arched, shoulders set, thrusting her breasts out. Even from where I was sitting, even through the mesh top, I could see the shape of her breasts and make out her hard nipples. She was putting on a show for him, definitely.

As Kayley lowered the glass and turned back to him, her legs swung and her knees touched his. He stroked her arm, and surreptitiously, his other hand slipped back down, dancing along her knee. She didn’t react, simply listening and smiling at whatever story he was telling.

His hand slid further, along the inside of her knee. His arm moved forward. Her legs didn’t clamp together this time. He leaned up, to whisper in her ear, and made his move, fingertips creeping up between her thighs, under her skirt. From the angle, I judged that it was only a few inches, not even near the tops of her stockings.

Kayley held up a finger, shook her head a little. He grinned at her. But her legs didn’t clamp and he didn’t withdraw right away.

She was definitely into him, there were very few men she’d allowed to slip their hand under her skirt.

A moment later, his palm was on her knee, painfully casual. She shifted position on her stool, her knee swinging outward gently guided by his palm, and then she’d swing back in, as they teased each other with the subtle parting of her thighs. But her knees never quite closed, she was enjoying the game.

I wondered if he was as hard as I was.

They leaned in towards each other, her lips pursed for a kiss. His hand slid up her skirt, this time all the way to her stocking’s band, and her thighs parted to allow it. Her lips brushed his, but instead of engaging, he whispered in her ear.

Her eye widened a little, not repulsed, but slightly surprised. Her head drew back. The hand between her thighs withdrew, the fingertips just under the edge of the skirt.

This was interesting. I’d expected a full kiss, or more kisses. A special that Kayley bestowed only on men she really enjoyed. She’d been willing, but it had gone differently. Kayley whispered something. He whispered back, hand moving slowly up under her skirt. She casually reached down to hold his wrist, but didn’t close her legs, as she looked towards the back of the bar past me.

They exchanged whispers. Kayley drew back, thoughtfully, swinging on the bar stool. His hand fell back, but came to rest on her knee. She took a drink of wine, this time not squaring her shoulders, clearly buying time. A moment later, he picked up his beer to drink. They put their glasses down at the same time.

I wished I could hear what they were saying, but I was too far away. Sometimes, we’d be connected with her phone on mute, so that I could hear the conversation if background was quiet enough. But mostly we’d found that with the phone in the purse, in a noisy bar, it was impossible.

He said something, whispering, but not in her ear. He grinned wildly, nodding. Kayley looked over his shoulder, expression thoughtful, her head moved, half nod, half shake. There was a soft exchange, again him smiling, cajoling, her uncertain, reflective.

Then she whispered something, kissed him directly on the lips, and slid off the chair, walking to the back of the room. Her hips swung slightly, it was impossible not to in those heels, but she didn’t show off like she had in the parking lot. I kept my eyes locked on my phone as she passed. But I could see him on his stool admiring the view.

Something had happened. I wasn’t sure what though. Kayley was beyond my frame of vision, and I couldn’t turn to see where she went. I’d only seen her pass from the corner of my eye. Was she upset? Angry? I didn’t have any sense of that. I risked a direct look back at the man. He was smiling, completely relaxed. He turned to finish his drink and ordered another beer, waiting patiently.

Very odd.

A moment or two later, Kayley’s name lit up my phone. I pressed connect, and held it to my ear.

“I’m calling from the women’s bathroom,” Kayley hissed, trying to muffle her voice. “I don’t know what to do!”

“What’s going on?”  I asked, suddenly alert, my heart was pounding. I glanced at the man; he was still sitting nonchalantly at the bar. Had something gone wrong? Was there danger? Had he threatened her? Did he have a concealed weapon? Was there danger? Did I need to go after him? After her?

“He wants to have sex with me,” she whispered.

I was momentarily confused.

“But...” I hesitated. That was the point, every man wanted to take her home, or go home with her. “They all do. Did he do something…”

“Right now,” she said. “He wants me to go into the men’s room with him and have sex.”

“In the bathroom,” I said, astonished.

“Yes,” she said. “Right here.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I needed to pee, and I’d think about it,” she said. “Now I’m sitting in here talking to you.”

My first instinct was to tell her to wait, and I’d go get her and we’d get the hell out of there. But I caught myself. She could have told him no, right out at the bar, right in public. He wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Or she could have given me a signal, and I’d have come over and end it. Unless…

“Is he dangerous?” I asked. “Armed. Unstable.”

“What?” she was genuinely surprised. “No.”

All right, no worries about that then.

“Okay,” I was thinking fast. She could have shut it down any of a half dozen ways. Instead, she’d called me.

“Kayley,” I said. “How do you feel?”

“I ...  I… don’t know,” she said. “It was going fine. Is he still there?”

He was still visible in the corner of my eye.  I wanted to take a closer look at him, but dared not. He’d been flirting seriously with Kayley, plenty of mutual touches, whispers and smiles. She’d leaned in once or twice, giving him a view of her cleavage. At one point, I’d caught her letting his hand creep up her short skirt.

“Yes,” I said. “He’s still waiting.”

“Okay,” she said.  “I just… he caught me by surprise. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

I was rock hard; I could feel my cock pounding in my pants. My heart was racing. Suddenly, we were both facing the prospect of a complete stranger fucking my girl. Kayley spreading her legs, another man’s cock, in her pussy. It seemed unreal, and yet too altogether real, a prospect that had moved from vague half acknowledged fantasies to imminent reality. It was alluring, and scary.

“Kayley,” I said, “were you enjoying yourself?”

A long pause.

“Yes.”

“Were you turned on?”

“I’m always turned on when we play this game, you know—”

I cut her off, she was defensive, instinctively evading the question, and we both knew it.

“Kayley,” I let my gaze swivel across the room, passing over him. Assessing him again: Older than us, mid-thirties at least, his clothes a little unkempt, a little ragged. Not doing as well financially, probably a shitty job, just scraping buy. A low class grifter. But there was a sleazy charm.  “Was it hot?”

There was a long pause.

“Yeah,” she said, “it was. He was flirting really hard, but not desperate. It was like he was playing. And he was bold. He put his hand up my skirt.”

I’d seen that.

“Do you want to do it?”

Another long pause.

“I don’t know.”

Except, of course, she knew. We both knew. If she hadn’t wanted to, it would have stopped, anywhere along the path, right up to now. She wanted it. It was her fear stopping her. And me.

“Kayley,” I said. “Listen very carefully to me.”

“Yes.”

“Kayley,” I ordered. “I want you to take off your panties.”