Contextual Note: On May 13, Oleander Plume posted a Wicked Wednesday post about lists. In the post she announced a writing contest where we could choose from a list of writing prompts she uses in her own work to write an erotic tale. I chose #12, “12. after the bowling alley closes (Literary masterpiece in the making right there!),” but I never finished it. Here is my version, six months late.
The neon OPEN BOWLING sign flickered off as Gloria entered Star Rocket Lanes. It was a steamy summer night in Milwaukee. Gloria’s frizzy mane of auburn hair bounced as she strutted into the darkened hall.
“We’re closed,” yelled Stan.
“Even for a foxy bitch?” laughed Gloria
“Especially for you. I’ve already put the balls away.”
“I’m sure I could find them.”
“You were always good at that.”
“Hi,” she said, catching Stan’s eyes for the first time.
“Gloria,” he said nodding his head.
“Buy me a drink.”
“Is there a finer drink?”
“Not at this bar.”
“Pour me a double then.”
“Lookin to get lubricated?”
“Always Baby,” she winked.
He poured two doubles, gently clinking his tumbler against her’s. Stan was more mustache than lip but Gloria chewed her lip watching him suck whiskey from his whiskers. She took a sip and tipping her head back, moaned.
“Mm,” she said, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you.”
She opened her eyes pleasantly surprised.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I meant the whiskey.”
“So did I,” he said smiling into his glass.
“I tell you what I do miss. The feel of that thick cock in my mouth.”
“You got a fucking filthy mouth,” he said.
“You gonna fuck my filthy mouth?
He stared steely into her eyes as he lowered his zipper and showed her his hard cock.
“Get on your knees,” he said in his deepest voice.
She stroked her bottom lip slowly with one finger, looking him over.
“Get on the bar,” she said in a husky, lust-filled tone.
He quickly slipped off his pants and boxers and hopped up on the bar. She breathed him in, nuzzling his pubic hair. She slowly slid her fingers down his shaft before squeezing him. He moaned. She rubbed his glans with her soft lips then wet his cock with her whiskey soaked tongue. A broken breath escaped his throat. He slid his rough fingers through her auburn curls. Sucking air through his teeth, he pulled her mouth off of his cock and sucked her tongue. Her hand was working where her mouth had been. He pressed his forehead to hers, panting like a drunkard.
“Gloria,” he breathed.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Yes Baby, yes, mmm yes.”
Their lips met again but softly.
“Let’s bowl,” she whispered into his ear.
“Mmm,” she moaned, taking another taste of his swollen cock.
Stan dressed then turned on lane one. Gloria picked a pink ball. Stan liked sex but he liked winning too so as Gloria positioned herself to approach the lane, he slid his hand around her and stuffed it into her cutoff jeans. She leaned back into him as he coated his fingers with her slick. Then looking her in the eye, he sucked the taste of her off of his hand. She was no novice to Strip Bowling and she pulled out a spare. He rolled a wicked frame. As the game progressed, their sabotages became more depraved. Stan was one ball behind, in total, but he still had his boxers. Her panties were long ago shed. He fell to his knees on the maple, swung her leg over his shoulder, and sucked her soaked pussy. Her ball fell from her hand as he licked her till wobbly, then, crying out, she collapsed on top of him. He picked her up and bent her over the scoring console.
“You’re a fucking cheat,” she growled when he entered her from behind.
“Yes, I fucking am,” he said, slapping the side of her ass, his cock hard and slick inside her.
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