*Whiskey & Whispers: Backroad Heat*

I've done alot of bar hoping in my days and one Friday night I found this little bar on a back road and stopped in to get a drink And it was a small bar maybe held twenty people and i sat down and about a hour later this woman came up and sat down beside me and started talking about her life And i keep buying her drinks and we were getting tipsy and then she started rubbing the side of my pants and she said it's been a long time since a man lick in-between my legs and gave me his cock and then

The bar was the kind of dive that didn’t give a fuck about health inspections—peeling vinyl seats, a sticky floor that hadn’t seen a mop in decades, and the tang of spilled liquor thick in the air. I was on my fifth whiskey, the burn doing its job of dulling the restlessness gnawing at me, when she slid onto the stool beside me. The scent of her perfume was a blade of something sharp and citrusy, cutting through the stale cigarette smoke. “You look like you’ve got a story,” she murmured, thumb tracing the rim of my glass before stealing my last sip. “But no one’s listening.” Her lips stayed on mine, the whiskey cold against her tongue. My hand closed around her wrist—not a signal, just an instinct. She didn’t pull away. Instead, her other fingers dug into the denim of my pants, nails scraping the seam of my thigh with maddening precision. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for,” she slurred, voice rough but her eyes laser-focused. One hand slid upward, unbuttoning my jeans open just enough to see the outline of what she’d been talking about—and the wet spot of her panties pressing against my trousers, a dark smear through the fabric. I didn’t have to wait for an invitation.

She gripped the waistband, tugging me closer as her thighs clenched around my knee. The stool wobbled, but neither of us cared. “Fuck,” she hissed, hips grinding into the empty space between us, “I was right.” My palm flattened against her heat, fingers pressing through the soaked fabric. The seam of her thong split against my thumb, a slow push, and then the whole damn thing peeled back like a wound, sticking to her skin. She was bare underneath—damp, swollen, and trembling as my fingers slid deeper. Her head fell back with a gasp, but the noise was swallowed by the bar’s din, by the slam of a bassline pulsing somewhere out of sync. The world narrowed to the scent of her, to the way her breath hitched when I found her clit, to the wet drag of her panties as she dragged them off and stuffed them into my pocket. “Too loud,” she warned, but her voice was a whisper, fingers tangling in my hair as she yanked me toward her. “You’ll make me come too quick.”

My fingers still flexed against her clit, teasing the hard bead for just a breath, before I let them drift lower. She whimpered, arching into me, her free hand bracing against the bar as I slipped one knuckle inside her. The tight, scorching clench of her heat had my cock straining against the fly, veins throbbing. “Shut up,” I murmured, thumb circling the soaked entrance while my mouth found the curve of her jaw. “I like watching you squirm.” She twisted, pressing her core into my palm, but I held her steady with a low growl, knowing the stool’s shit condition would keep her balanced only by clinging to me. The other fingers in her hair tightened, her nails biting down—not protest, but urgency. “Please,” she begged, not against me, but the slow torture of it. “Or I’ll do it myself.” I leaned back just enough to see her face, the flush creeping down from her cheeks, pupils blown and hungry. She was already shaking, one hand sliding between her legs before I could stop her. “No,” I said, and this time, it wasn’t a refusal. I pulled her closer, crushing her against my thigh as the stool gave way beneath us. Her panties were still in my pocket, but I didn’t need them. I pressed my cock against the wet, parted seam of her pussy, her gasp turning into a broken moan as she strained up, trying to take me deeper. “You’re driving me fucking—” she choked, fingers clawing at my arm, nails sharp enough to draw blood. I didn’t care. The stool hit the floor with a crack, but no one glanced up. Just her, wrapped around me, and the steady, bruising press of my hips against hers as the second finger joined the first inside her. The tight, desperate grip of her body was all the warning I needed before I slipped out and aligned me with her entrance, just for a second. Then we both heard it—the wet, obscene sound of her thighs rubbing together, her slick coating the head of my cock. Her mouth fell open, and I sealed it with mine, swallowing the whine of protest she couldn’t stop from spilling out. The bar, the music, the whole fucking world faded into the pulse of her heart beneath my lips, of her breathing turning ragged, of the way her body tensed, ready. I took hold of her ass, lifting. She met me with a sharp cry, her nails buried in my shoulders as I lowered her onto me, an inch at a time. The clench of her heat was suffocating, every wall of her pussy milking the head of my cock with slow, deliberate pressure. “Fuck,” she hissed against my neck, voice raw. “Fuck, you feel *good*.” I didn’t answer—just set her down on the stool’s broken leg, gripping her hips as she rocked forward, taking more of me in. The bar’s dim light painted her skin in gold, in shadow, in the way her breasts heaved with every breath. No one was listening. And for once, I didn’t give a shit.

The stool groaned beneath us, splinters biting into her bare ass, but she didn’t even flinch—just ground down, her pussy clenching harder around my shaft as she adjusted. I hissed at the contact, my fingers leaving bruises on her hips to keep her from moving too fast. The air between us was thick with the scent of her, of whiskey, of the dirty musk of fucking in public. Her hands scrabbled at my shoulders, nails dragging trails down my skin before one finger fumbled at my zipper—just enough to yank it down the rest of the way. My cock sprang free, slick and heavy with her arousal, and she didn’t hesitate. Her fist closed around my base, pumping once before her other hand tangled in my hair, her teeth sinking into my collarbone. “Too much,” I growled, slapping her wrist away. I didn’t want her touch—not after we were halfway fucked already. She whined, but she lifted, my cock sliding out with a wet, obscene sound that had her thighs trembling. I reared back—just a little—and then drove myself home hard enough that the stool vibrated beneath us. Her breath left her in a rush, fingers clawing at my back like she was trying to dig into the flesh there. I didn’t stop. Another thrust, and her moans turned into choked sobs, her body rocking with the force as her head fell against the bar’s sticky surface. Her pussy stretched around me, the walls slick and tight, her orgasm already riding the edge. I let my thumb brush against her clit, just once, and her nails dug deeper, her back bowing as she came undone in silent, shuddering waves. Her scent changed then—thickened, turned sweeter—but the sharp bite of her teeth on my shoulder didn’t. She bit down, and I groaned, the pain twisting through me even as her pussy clenched in wet pulses. “Yeah,” she panted, the word vibrating against my skin. “Like that.” My fingers dug into her waistband, bunching the fabric against her skin as I set the rhythm, short, brutal strokes that had her rocking back every time I hit the end. The broken stool leg dug into the meat of her thighs, but she didn’t care—just clung to me, her whole body trembling against mine. We weren’t fucking quietly. Not anymore.

Her whimpers had turned into needy, desperate sounds—each breath sawing from her lungs as I fucked her harder, the stool’s splinters cutting into her skin but not slowing the way she rolled her hips up, greedily chasing my next thrust. The bar’s stickiness beneath her back arched into mine as her thighs squeezed tighter around my waist, her nails tracing new marks down my neck. I hissed into her hair, the sharp scent of her arousal mixing with sweat and the faint tang of her last drink. “You ready for more?” She didn’t answer—just lifted, taking me deep with another broken cry, her pussy swallowing until I bottomed out. Her fingers twisted in my shirt, yanking me closer, and she wrapped herself around me fully, her entire body shuddering as I stayed there, buried to the hilt. “Move,” she demanded, voice raw, but I ignored her, letting her feel me like that—pulsing, full, her warmth clenching me in place. Then I pulled back, slow, the stool creaking beneath our weight as she whined, her free hand slapping against my thigh, not in protest but hunger. I didn’t stop this time, my cock slipping out with a wet drag before I drove back in, harder, faster, the splintered wood biting into her ass until her breath hitched into a sob. My mouth found her jaw again, teeth grazing, tongue pushing against the skin as I set the pace—her nails on my back, my fingers digging into the meat of her hips. The sound of her pussy, of the stool’s protests beneath us, of her breathless moans against my neck filled the space between us. The music was just noise, the people just ghosts as I fucked her. And she took it, her orgasm already building from the tension of my grip, of my thrusts, of the way my cock dragged against her swollen walls every time. I let my free hand slide between us, fingers finding her clit again—this time, not teasing but pinching, just enough to send her spiraling. Her fingers clawed, her voice breaking, and I swallowed it against hers, my teeth sinking into the pulse beneath her ear. “Fuck,” she gasped, hips jerking as her pussy clenched again, tighter this time, her orgasm crashing over her in waves. Her scent mixed with the thick musk of mine, sweat slicking against every point of contact, every breath a gasp against my lips. I didn’t slow down—not yet. Not until she was finished, and I was the only thing she could feel.

And then she said let's go to my van so I can wrap my legs around your face i want to squirt into your mouth and see how much of my creamy pussy taste

Her fingers gripped my neck tight, nails digging in like she needed leverage to pull herself off me—she didn’t, though. Not yet. I felt the tremor run through her as she panted, her body still clenching around my cock in aftershocks of her last orgasm. I didn’t give her the chance to finish her thought. My teeth grazed the skin beneath her ear, the way she gasped telling me I’d already gotten the answer before she spoke it. I yanked her off me, my cock pulling out with a slick, obscene sound that had her biting back another whimper. Her legs trembled, thighs still slick with her arousal, the splintered wood of the stool digging into her skin as I lifted her. The van was just a few doors down, but getting there felt like an eternity under her hungry weight. I kicked the door open, the stale scent of leather and cigarettes hitting me a second before her hands were on my belt, fumbling with the buckle. The engine was still running, the hum low and steady beneath the press of her lips against mine. I didn’t bother locking the door. Didn’t bother thinking. Just dropped her onto the passenger seat and yanked her shirt up, baring her breasts to the cool air. The nipple rings caught the light as she whined, her skin flushed, her mouth already open for the next kiss, for the next bite. I didn’t give her either—not yet. Instead, I dragged her panties down again, burying my fingers in the damp cotton as she hissed. “Still want to squirt?” I asked, thumb pressing against her clit. She didn’t answer—just lifted her knees, thighs pressing against my shoulders as I dropped to the floor. The seat belt dug into her ribs, but she didn’t care, her fingers already tangling in my hair, my name a breathless plea on her tongue. The cool metal of the van’s floor bit into my knees as I kissed her spread, her thighs trembling with anticipation. The taste of her was thick and sweet, her arousal already coating my lips, the first finger slipping in easy. She whined, her grip tightening, as I curled my fingers, the muscles clenching around me on instinct. I didn’t go slow. No wasted time. Just took her with my mouth, my teeth, my tongue, the sound of her desperate gasps filling the cabin as I sucked hard enough to hear the wet, sloppy drag of her arousal against my lips. Her fingers scrabbled over the seat belt, claws catching on the metal as she writhed, her pussy already swelling, the first pulses of her impending orgasm already throbbing against my tongue. I groaned into her, my free hand moving between her legs—two fingers finding her cunt’s entrance, slipping inside as her thighs trembled against my shoulders. The sound of her whines, of the way her body clenched and relaxed, of the way her hips bucked upward, her pussy already open and dripping, was a symphony I couldn’t get enough of. “Fuck,” she gasped, her fingers pressing into my scalp. “You’re gonna make me—” *Come*, I thought. *Just like that.* I didn’t stop. Just doubled down, my tongue pressing against her swollen clit, her thighs squeezing around my shoulders like she was trying to crush my face between them. Her fingers twisted in my hair, nails drawing blood but not slowing the way her body bowed upward, her orgasm already building, her scent thick and musky as the first pulse of her creamy pussy dripped onto my tongue.

The moment her first wet spasm hit my tongue, I didn’t ease up—not even fucking close. My fingers pistoned inside her, knuckles dragging against her slick walls as I twisted my wrist for that perfect angle. Her taste was so thick it coated my throat, her thighs convulsing against my ears, the seat belt clicking as she jerked forward. “Nnngh—*more*—” she choked, her voice breaking as I swallowed her release, my free hand gripping her ass, yanking her harder against my mouth. The cool leather of the passenger seat pressed against her skin, but the only thing her mind focused on was the way I *devoured* her, the way my teeth nipped at her lips every time she bucked, the way my fingers *pumped* like they were her cock. Her fingers clawed at the doorframe, knuckles white, her back arching as another pulse hit me—thicker this time, her pussy *dripping* onto my fingers as I sucked harder. I felt her nails dig into the roof of my mouth, the sharp sting barely registering as I groaned, the sound vibrating against her clit. She sobbed now, her body trembling as the waves of her orgasm kept coming, my hands never steady, my teeth never gentle. The van rocked beneath us, the hum of the engine muffled by the way her breath hitched, the way her hips twisted, the way her thighs locked around my head. I didn’t slow down. Not until she went limp, her scent thick and cloying as I let go of her ass, my fingers slipping from her pussy with a wet pop. Her legs fell open, wide enough I could see the mess I’d left between her thighs, and I didn’t waste a second. I grabbed her hair, yanking her up from the seat, her lips already finding mine—tasting herself, her breath wild as I swallowed her moans. My cock was still hard, the memory of her cunt milking me still too fresh. The front seat was narrow, but she didn’t care. Not yet.

And then she said watch how a real woman fucks her man nice and slow until you can't take it anymore

I didn’t need an invitation. Let alone a warning. And then she said it—words cutting through the haze of her own scent: *watch how a real woman fucks her man nice and slow until you can't take it anymore.* Her free hand tangled in mine, pulling me up onto the seat, but I kept my grip on her hair, forcing her down just enough to make her whine against me. I licked my lips, the taste of her still thick and cloying. “You don’t need that mouth shut,” I growled. She didn’t fight me—just pushed her hips forward, the wet heat of her pussy already dragging over the length of my cock. The narrow space between us was like a vice, my fingers digging into her ribs, the seat belt a sharp bite into her already abused skin. I felt her clit brush against my hip as she rocked, her thighs slick with the mess she’d been dripping seconds before. “Look at you,” she murmured, her voice rough. I’d never seen her like this—sated, but still *hungry*. “How much of my pussy can you handle?” I groaned as she sat up, my cock sliding from her folds, leaving two fingers still slick inside her. She didn’t waste time either—just grabbed me, her wet fingers teasing my cockhead before lining me up. The moment she sank down, her pussy *clenching* around me, the muscles remembering, her knees lifted, shins pressing against the dashboard as she took me deep. I didn’t have a choice but to watch. Her back arched as she *fucked* me, my hands on her hips, her nails digging into me as she rode. The slow circles of her hips were agony, the way her cunt *milked* my cock, the way her thighs trembled, was *savage*. Her eyes locked onto mine, the glint in them telling me she *knew* what she was doing—the way it drove me *fucking* crazy. I was trying to go slow. Was trying to *fucking* savor. But then her pussy *locked* around me, her fingers digging into my neck as I felt the first wet pulse against my cock. Not yet. Not *fucking* yet. I hissed, my nails drawing lines down her back as I tried to hold on. Her lips found mine again, her kiss rough and desperate. “You can’t take it,” she whispered. “Good.”

I held back with every ounce of strength I had—my hips flexing, my teeth pressed into the corner of her mouth—but the way her body *squeezed* me was suffocating. Her ass bounced off my thighs with every slow roll, the seat belt cutting deeper into her skin as she reached back, a slick finger tracing down my spine between her tight cheeks. “Mmm—*that’s it*,” she crooned, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Just *feel* how good it is. I’m not even close to stopping.” I wasn’t either, not anymore. My hands slid up, gripping the base of her throat instead of her ribs, fingers curling just enough to feel the way she swallowed against me. She didn’t pull away—just arched harder, her nails scraping down my chest, my cock twitched inside her, the tip hitting that spot that made her gasp. She was *fucking* teasing, her movements deliberate, her lips parted in a silent scream every time her pussy *tightened* around me. The taste of her still lingered, a mix of salt and something darker, more *mine*, on her tongue now. “You’re gonna ruin me,” I growled, my fingers tightening slightly as she smirked, knowing exactly what she was doing. “That’s the plan,” she whispered. And then she *sprinted*. Her ass lifted off me, my cock dragging free with a wet, obscene sound, before she slammed back down, the force knocking the breath right out of me. She didn’t stop once, didn’t give me a second to adjust—just *fucked* me like I was a goddamn punishment, her thighs slapping against the dashboard, the seat belt biting into my skin. I came with a choked sob, my vision white as she *milked* me, her pussy *choking* on every pulse. My fingers didn’t leave her throat, just *shifted*, my palm flattening against her skin as I swallowed her name, my cock jerking as the last of my cum dripped from her soaked lips. She didn’t slow down, didn’t stop, just *fucked* me through it, her breath ragged, her nails drawn blood. “So much for *going slow*,” she purred, her hips still rolling, her cunt still *tight* around me, as another deep pulse made my toes curl.

Her voice was a jagged edge of breath and need, her fingers digging into me as if she could anchor herself deeper. I didn’t answer—just tilted her head back with a sharp tug, my teeth finding the pulse in her throat. She cried out against me, the sound lost in my grasp as she *fucked* me harder, the narrow space between us too tight, too hot, to think. I twisted my fingers, pulling her off balance, and her pussy *clamped* down around me before she collapsed back onto the seat, my cock still buried inside her. Her chest heaved, her tits pressed against my hands, the firm weight heavy with their own tension. The areolas were dark, swollen, almost painful to look at. I didn’t need encouragement. I let go of her throat just long enough to palm one, my thumb and fingers curling over the flesh, squeezing as I dipped my head. Her nails raked across the dashboard, her breath a hiss. I didn’t give her time to gasp—just clamped my lips over her nipple, the taste of her skin mingling with the salt of my sweat. She *sobbed*, her cunt *milking* me in time with my suckles, her hips bucking off the seat when I scraped my teeth over the tight bud. I felt the way her body *locked* around mine—hot, demanding, feral. I didn’t need to be told what she wanted. I moved to her other nipple, my tongue flicking over the peak before I pulled it into my mouth, teeth grazing rough skin. Her thighs shook, the mess between us spilling onto the seat, the scent thick and intoxicating. She moaned when I teased her, my fingers kneading the flesh of her breast as I fucked her slow and brutal and deep. “You like that, don’t you?” I growled against her skin, my hand already sliding between her legs, two fingers pressing hard into her cunt. “You like the way my tits *ache* for my mouth.” She didn’t answer—just arched, her nails drawn blood against my forearm as her pussy *fucking* *flooded* over my cock, her muscles squeezing tight around my fingers. The seat belt was still a harsh line against her skin, but she didn’t care—fucked me harder, her hips snapping, her tits bouncing as I sucked until she couldn’t take it. “There,” she moaned, her lips finding mine again. I didn’t slow down.

The thought flashed through me—*how much more*—and I let myself hear it. Her pussy was still clenching, her body demanding something I knew I couldn’t keep up with. My fingers dug into the curves of her thigh, rough and possessive, as I hooked them beneath the seat belt, yanking it toward me. Her breath caught, the metal suddenly biting into the nape of her neck instead of her chest. “Fuck—*harder*,” she gasped, her voice dropping to a throaty demand. I didn’t miss a beat, just twisted my hand, pinching her clit through the thin cloth of the seat belt, my cock still deep and aching inside her. It wasn’t enough. I needed her *raw*—no barriers, no excuses. My free hand found the hem of her shirt, claws snapping free, and I tore it up her back, the fabric shredding like paper. Her bra was gone next, straps bitten through with practiced precision, and then her skin was bare, flushed and sensitive under my touch. “You’re gonna break me,” she taunted, arching into the rough scrape of my teeth against her collarbone. Her tits were heavy, desperate, the nipples still swollen from before. I didn’t waste time—just turned and sank my mouth down, the soft flesh giving way between my molars. It pulled her cry from my cock as she *fucking* *imploded*, her pussy squeezing so tight my vision blackened, her nails dragging down my back as another pulse forced its way out. I didn’t have much left, but the way she *begged* with a whimper, her thighs trembling like that, I knew I’d make it count.

The engine growled beneath us, the vibration pulsing through the torn fabric of her seat, her legs still locked around my hips like a vise. She tasted like sex and salt, her nipple still firm against my tongue as she shuddered, her breath ragged against my shoulder. “One more,” she repeated, her fingers clawing at my scalp, nails dragging. “I can *take* it.” I didn’t believe her—didn’t want to. But the way her cunt clenched around me, milking every last drop of my cum, every ragged breath from my lungs, made it impossible to resist. I let go of her, just enough to pull her thigh up sharper, fingers biting into her inner thigh as the angle changed. She cried out, the sound raw and desperate, her pussy already swallowing the thick mess leaking out of me. I didn’t hesitate—pressed my mouth against hers hard and fucked her again with the full weight of my body. The seat belt dug into her skin, the metal bite sharp against her tits. “God, *yes*—fuck me, make me *ache*,” she panted between broken kisses, her nails leaving trails down my arms. My cock slipped out for a second—just long enough to let her see how deep she’d left me before I thrust back in, the space so tight it hurt. She sobbed into my mouth, her pussy *clenching*, the wet heat enveloping me. I didn’t hold anything back—just slammed into her over and over, the rough scrape of her bra against my face gone, her tits bouncing beneath me. She tasted like mine, like we’d been tangled together for hours. “Take it,” I growled again. She didn’t answer—just *fucking* *drowned* me in another pulse, her body convulsing against mine. This time, I felt it. The way she shattered around me, her cunt *milking* me like it never would again. I let myself go with her.