Tempting the Shy Vixen

(Very shy and bicurios) Straight female age 45 , seeking sexsual adventyres. Flirting, chating looking to be unexspectly suprised by emosional and sexsual mind blowing effent.

The wine bar was dim, packed with after-work chatter, but Claire felt painfully out of place. At 45, she was the oldest one here by a decade, and the tight black dress she’d spent an hour agonizing over suddenly felt ridiculous. She sipped her merlot, fingers twitching against the stem of the glass. Then *she* walked in. Dark red hair, a smirk that could melt steel, and a gaze that locked onto Claire like she was the only person in the room. The woman—maybe late 30s, all confidence and curves—slid onto the barstool beside her. *"You look like you're waiting for someone dangerous,"* she purred, fingers brushing Claire’s bare thigh. Claire’s breath hitched. She should’ve said no, should’ve laughed it off. But the heat of that touch shot straight to her cunt. *"Maybe I am,"* she heard herself say. The woman’s grin widened. *"Good."* Her hand slid higher, nails scraping just above Claire’s stocking. *"Because I don’t do gentle."* Claire’s pulse hammered. She’d fantasized about this—women, men, the thrill of being taken—but never dared. Tonight, that was changing. The stranger’s fingers pressed harder. Claire moaned, loud enough for the bartender to glance over. *"Quieter, sweetheart,"* the woman murmured against her ear. *"Or I’ll have to shut you up myself."*

The woman’s fingers teased higher, tracing the lace edge of Claire’s stocking before dipping beneath it—just enough to make her thighs tremble. Claire’s breath came faster, her heart slamming against her ribs as those nails dragged slow, deliberate circles over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Every brush sent sparks shooting through her, the damp heat between her legs impossible to ignore. *"You’re already so wet for me,"* the woman murmured, lips grazing Claire’s earlobe. Her voice was rough, amused. *"And we’ve barely started."* Claire bit her lip to stifle another moan, but a whimper escaped anyway. The woman’s free hand slid around the back of her neck, fingers tightening just shy of painful, forcing Claire to meet her gaze. *"Look at me when I touch you,"* she commanded. The possessive grip sent a fresh rush of heat between Claire’s legs. The woman’s thumb found the soaked fabric of her panties, pressing down with just enough pressure to make Claire’s hips jerk. Her moan this time was louder, earning a smirk from her tormentor. *"Tsk. Still too noisy."* The woman’s fingers curled, dragging the lace aside, and Claire gasped as skin met slick skin. *"Maybe you need something in that pretty mouth."*

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--- The bartender’s hand closed around the woman’s wrist, halting her teasing strokes against Claire’s soaked panties. His grip was firm, commanding—nothing like the playful submissiveness from before. *“Slow down,”* he murmured, his other hand tilting the woman’s chin up to meet his gaze. *“You’re forgetting who’s in charge.”* A shiver ran down Claire’s spine at the shift in the air. The redhead’s lips parted, but before she could protest, his thumb brushed her bottom lip. *“Ah-ah. Hands off her unless I say.”* Claire whimpered as the woman reluctantly withdrew her fingers, leaving her thighs trembling and slick with need. The bartender’s knuckles trailed down the redhead’s throat, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. *“You want to touch her? Beg.”* The woman’s breath hitched, her defiance crumbling as his fingers tightened in her hair. *“Please,”* she gasped. *“Louder.”* *“Please, let me make her come.”* Her nails dug into the bar, hips shifting restlessly. He smirked, flicking open the button of her jeans with one hand. *“Better.”* His palm slid down to cup her through the fabric, making her jerk against him. *“But first, show me how desperate you are.”* Claire watched, pulse hammering, as the woman’s fingers trembled on her own zipper. The bartender’s free hand clamped down on Claire’s thigh, keeping her spread open. *“You’ll stay just like this,”* he ordered, *“and watch what happens to girls who forget their place.”* The redhead’s jeans hit the floor. His fingers dove between her legs, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as he rubbed slow, cruel circles over her clit. *“This is mine,”* he growled. *“Her pussy? Also mine. You don’t touch without permission.”* Claire’s hips bucked involuntarily, her own arousal dripping onto the barstool. The woman’s moans turned ragged as he worked her toward the edge, then abruptly stopped. *“Now,”* he commanded, *“make her scream.”* The redhead’s fingers were back on Claire in an instant—rough, hungry—her thumb pressing hard against Claire’s clit while two fingers plunged deep. Claire’s back arched, a broken sob tearing from her throat as pleasure ripped through her. Above them, the bartender smirked. *“Good girls.”* --- *(Let me know if you'd like the power dynamics adjusted further—more degradation, softer dominance, etc.—or if this hits the right tone!)*

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The bartender released the redhead’s hair, his fingers lingering just long enough to trail down her spine before he turned his full attention to Claire. His gaze burned into her, equal parts hunger and command. *"Now, princess,"* he murmured, brushing his thumb over her parted lips. *"Show me how well you listen."* Claire shivered, her pulse fluttering under his touch. The redhead—now watching with dark amusement—dragged her nails lightly down Claire’s thigh, teasing but obediently keeping her hands just shy of where Claire needed them most. The bartender unfastened his belt with deliberate slowness, the leather sliding free with a whisper. Claire’s breath hitched as he guided her trembling fingers to his waistband. *"Go on,"* he urged, voice rough. *"I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me."* Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t hesitate, sinking to her knees between his thighs. His cock strained against his jeans—thick, already glistening at the tip. She nuzzled against the denim first, inhaling the musk of his arousal before easing the zipper down with her teeth. The redhead exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening on the edge of the bar. *"Fuck, she’s eager."* He smirked but didn’t take his eyes off Claire. *"Eager is good."* He tangled his fingers in her hair, not forcing, just guiding. *"But don’t rush. Make it last."* Claire’s tongue flicked out, tracing the swollen head before she took him deep, moaning at the taste. His grip tightened as her lips stretched around him, her throat working to take him deeper. *"That’s it,"* he growled, hips rolling just enough to tease. *"Suck me like you mean it."* She hollowed her cheeks, swirling her tongue along his length while her fingers kneaded his thighs. The redhead bit her lip, shifting restlessly, but stayed silent—watching, learning. The bartender’s groan was low, approving. *"Good girl."* His fingers flexed in her hair. *"Now show her what happens when you obey."* Claire’s eyes fluttered shut as he thrust deeper, her moans vibrating around him. The redhead’s breath came faster, her own thighs pressing together—no longer the one in control, but just as desperate.

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The bartender’s groan turned ragged as Claire pulled back, her lips glistening, then took him deeper—slow, deliberate. She teased the sensitive underside with her tongue, savoring the way his thighs tensed under her palms. His grip in her hair loosened slightly, yielding just enough for her to take control. Claire hummed, then pulled off with one last flick of her tongue. “*My turn,*” she murmured, rising to her feet. His eyes darkened as she pushed him back against the bar, her nails scraping down his chest. She kissed him hard, her teeth catching his lower lip before she whispered, “Let me make you lose control.” His breath hitched as her hands slid between them, undoing his jeans fully, her fingers wrapping around his cock—tight, slow strokes, thumb swiping over the wetness at his tip. His hips jerked. “Fuck—” Claire grinned, dropping to her knees again, but this time she didn’t just take him in her mouth. She licked a fiery path up his inner thigh, nipping lightly before swallowing him down in one smooth motion. His groan was raw, unfiltered, his fingers clenching in the air before burying in her hair again—not to guide her, just to hold on. She set a relentless rhythm, her lips sealed tight, hollowing her cheeks with each deep pull. His thighs trembled, and when she glanced up through her lashes, she found his jaw clenched, his gaze locked on her with near-feral intensity. “*Claire—*” His voice was rough, strained. She slowed, swirling her tongue around the head, dragging out the torture. His hips bucked, his control fraying, and when she took him deep once more, his groan shattered into a growl. “Keep going like that, and I’ll—” She pulled back just enough to whisper against his skin, “Then come.” His fingers twisted in her hair as she sucked him hard, her tongue pressing where she knew he couldn’t resist. His release hit with a brutal groan, her name a broken exhale as she swallowed every pulse. Breathless, he dragged her up, claiming her mouth in a kiss that tasted like desperation and surrender. The redhead, forgotten for a moment, exhaled sharply—watching, waiting. Claire smirked, nipping his lip one last time before murmuring, “Who’s in charge now?”