[untergr8] My Favorite Bartender (Reposted as Complete Story)

[hatour]

If you enjoy the fruits of my labor, please don't forget to give Karma. It don't cost ya nothing.

DISCLAIMER: Where applicable, I have edited this story for flow and grammar. I also added imperial measures to metric measures. No edits to the actual content have been made. All these edits have been made without the authors consent.

My Favorite Bartender
by untergr8

I am the first to admit that I have a drinking problem, but so far it's been under control. I need to watch myself, but I have a strong will. One of these days I am going to quit for good, but not just yet.

A big reason for this is the Sundowner. It's not much of a place, but I live within walking distance so I've gone there for years. It's sort of a second home to me, I guess. But my reluctance to leave has less to do with the place and more to do with the bartender Wendy.

When she first came to work ten years ago, she was a tall slip of a thing. One of those skinny girls with big bones in her wrists and elbows, a long neck, and long fingers. She was maybe twenty then, shy and polite.

She got her hair cut short, which somehow suited her. She mostly wore baggy clothes. We thought maybe she was ashamed of being such a scarecrow, but of course nobody said this to her face. She was too nice.

A couple years later, she would sometimes show up with a black eye. People would ask her if everything was okay, and she would just shrug. In a town as small as this, most people think they know everything. So the rumor was that her boyfriend beat her up.

One afternoon I came in. The place was empty except for Wendy and me. "Where is everybody?" I asked.

"Wednesdays are slow," she said, looking up from her crossword. "Bourbon?"

"Sure," I said. She poured me my usual. "Where are you getting those bruises, anyway?" I asked.

She smiled. "Where do you think?"

I shrugged.

"I'm fighting."

"With your boyfriend?"

She laughed. "No, man. I mean in a ring. MMA."

"Is that like boxing?"

"Mixed martial arts. Boxing, kung fu, jiu-jitsu. Whatever you do, as long as you win."

It was my turn to laugh. "A skinny little thing like you?"

She gave me a half-smile. "Don't let the clothes fool you, honey. Tell you what." She put her elbow down on the bar. "Beat me arm wrestling and I'll pick up your tab tonight."

"What happens if you win?"

"You think I'll win? A skinny thing like me?"

"You got a point." I put my elbow down and grasped her hand. It was as large as my own. Somehow it felt thicker and harder, though the skin was soft.

"Ready?" she said. "Go."

I pushed. Her arm did not move. I pushed harder. My shoulder popped.

She stared at me and smiled. "That all you got?"

I gave it my all, every ounce of strength. I tried to bend her wrist. It was like her arm was made of wood. I felt my face getting red, sweat running down my back.

"Okay," she said. "You've suffered enough." She then slowly pushed my hand down to the bar and held it there, my body bent at the waist. I could not extricate myself. It was like being pinned by a piece of farm equipment. Finally, she let me go.

"Jesus," I said. I took a closer look at her baggy sweatshirt and realized it wasn't baggy at all. Her wrists were corded with thick veins like you see on a blacksmith. "Can I feel your arm?" I asked, feeling myself get aroused.

She looked toward the door. Nobody was coming in. She pulled off her sweatshirt and I almost fell off my chair. She was wearing a tank top underneath. Her shoulders were wider than mine, round and hard. A clean line of muscle bisected her chest, and though her boobs were tiny, they stood straight out. Most impressive were her arms. She had corded forearms and thick biceps with veins popping as she moved. She flexed her right arm and a softball-sized muscle rolled up and jutted out. I reached out my hand to touch it and squeezed. It felt like a fieldstone. My hand wasn't big enough to encircle it.

"Jesus," I said. "If I had seen that, I wouldn't have wrestled you!"

She grinned. "You forget that I won, Jimmy. I get to name what I won." She went over to the front door, locked it, and turned the sign to closed. "Come on back here with me," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me along toward the tiny kitchen. My legs were weak as I got off my stool and followed her.

In the kitchen, she grabbed my belt and pulled me toward her. She kissed me with an aggressive tongue. One hand slid down to my throbbing cock. "Oh, you like this. Good," she said. "Usually my muscles freak men out."

"Oh, I do. But why me, Wendy?" I asked.

"You're here," she said. Then she put one hand on each side of my hips and easily lifted me onto the prep table. I ran my hand along those hard arms as she undid my belt. "I'll do the driving," she said, unzipping my pants.

She pulled off my shoes and dropped them on the floor while slipping off her sweatpants. Her legs were pale, but even more muscular and defined than her arms. She smiled and slid her hands up my thighs. She bent over to take my cock in her mouth. I looked down at her bulging shoulders and biceps as she effortlessly lifted my butt closer to her mouth as she slid her teeth over my shaft.

She lifted one of those amazing legs up and put her foot flat on the steel table, pulling me up under her. I could see her clit hanging down like a small finger as she lowered her chiseled torso down onto me.

The sensation of her pussy closing over my cock was like nothing I ever experienced. It was slippery, but tight as a hand and seemed to suck me up into her. Her arms were even more pumped than before as she thrust her hard body up and down. The nipples of her small breasts were standing out like pencil erasers. She gave me a wicked look and squeezed her pussy harder, almost to the point of pain. Then she eased off.

I ran my hands over her abs and obliques. Her washboard serratus was as hard as concrete, shifting beneath her smooth pale skin. I lurched upward and took her nipple in my mouth, biting down. She moaned and clenched her pussy tight just as I exploded into orgasm. She grabbed my ass and lifted me up into her, slamming my hips into her own as I came and came, eyes rolling back in my head.

And then it was over. She wiped her crotch with a bar towel and pulled up her sweats. She tossed mine to me as I lay there panting.  "My god, Wendy," I said. "You're amazing."

"That wasn't what I wanted in the bet, by the way," she said. "That was just for fun. I love to fuck. What can I say? You got a nice cock, too."

"What is it you want, then?"

She pulled up her shirt. "I want you to hit me in the stomach. Nobody at the gym will do it."

"They hit you in the face?" I asked.

"Actually, I do that to myself with the crazy bag. I need to toughen up. So come on. Hit me."

I refastened my belt and slipped on my shoes. She stood there in her tank top. Her muscles were beautiful, both feminine and masculine at the same time. Her abs looked like a cobblestone street. I pulled back my fist and hit her in the midsection as hard as I could. It gave a solid smack and jarred my wrist. She didn't so much as blink.

"Again," she said. I tried again, with the same result. I hit her three more times, each time as hard as I could. "Jimmy," she said, "You're a pussy. My grandma can punch harder than that." She came over and pulled me toward her, gave me big kiss. "But thanks for trying."

The End?

[hatour]

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[Jeremy Lightning]

"My grandmother can punch harder than that." I for one would like to meet her grandmother then. But overall, I enjoyed this story a lot. Thanks for posting, k+!

[Wookey]

Thanks. Looking forward to her training with her man and the two of them getting into MMA tog