Sports bar…

‘The score never interested me, only the game.’
Mae West

‘Why did you bring me here?’

‘You wanted us to spend more time together, didn’t you?’

He was talking to her but wasn’t looking at her, his focus fixed on the screen over her shoulder. He didn’t even drag his eyes away when lifting a pale beer to his lips, gulping at it before knocking the glass unevenly back down, slopping foam over his hand and table.

Carmine and Sons Sports and Pizzeria, Brooklyn, New York.

Date night. Again.

She sighed.

‘I didn’t mean here.’

‘Sounds terrific baby!’

Realising she had already lost his attention to the evolving action on the pitch, she looked around the room, remembering how many dates she’d had in this grimy backwater, how many evenings she’d spent in this dark sports bar, and how much of her life she had wasted perched on barstools above this sticky floor.

And she’d had enough.

Fuck you. Fuck you and your lame excuses for dates. Fuck your fat greasy fingers dabbling in my flesh when you’re liquored up and horny, and fuck your anger when I say no. Fuck your bone idle expectations of service and fuck you for choosing sports and beer over me again. You are such a fucking cliche and you can fuck right off.

You don’t notice me anymore; you don’t see me.

Cheers erupted as the home team scored. Jumping to his feet and embracing the strangers around him, he jolted the table and sent his pint glass crashing over. She leapt away from the wave of beer, foam and backwash that crested over the table but couldn’t move fast enough to avoid being caught in the cascade that drenched her.

You don’t even see me anymore.

Pulling the soaked and sticky fabric away from her skin, she realised that he wasn’t the only one; no one could see her. No one cared. In this bastion of sports and alcohol, she was completely irrelevant. Invisible. Unseeable.

So she peeled up the ruined dress and lifted it over her head. Some shouts of protest sang out when the flying material briefly obscured the screens but there was no other reaction. She remained invisible.

Stalking over to the smoky mirrors that lined the walls, she appraised her appearance, wondering why she could not be seen. But she couldn’t understand it. The dark light just flattered her curves and, standing there in her black lacy underwear, she almost looked glamorous. Hot. Sensual. The residual wetness of the beer made her skin glisten like those oiled models in the 70s Pirelli calendars that lined the walls of his den, and she widened her stance to watch her body’s answering wetness glistening between her legs.

With all other eyes still imprisoned in the spell cast by the flickering screens, she strolled between the tables, trailing her fingers across shoulders to elicit distracted shudders and stealing chips out of hands as they travelled to grasping mouths. Thrilling in her role as this malicious sprite, she started kicking at chair legs or pushing over full glasses of beer. Occasionally, she caught the confused eye of a patron as they glanced in her direction, but their cursory gaze looked through her and was soon drawn back to the action on the pitch.

From the volume and frequency of shouts of elation and despair, the game seemed to be picking up pace. Would they cheer as loudly if their dick was in my mouth? she wondered. Would they appreciate my soft lips and gentle fingers, or would they just feel the biggest victory rush of their fucking lives?

There was a man sat in front of her boyfriend whose chair had shifted back from the table. Manspread across the aisle, he blocked her path. Now this was an opportunity…

‘Can you feel me looking at you?’ she whispered in his ear, letting her hot breath tickle his neck. ‘Can you feel me wanting you?’

He shifted in his seat and looked around him, unsure why this football match was now turning him on.

‘I bet you’re a big boy, aren’t you? I bet you’ve got a big, thick cock hidden in those jeans. I wish I could get my hands on it. I wish I could hold your big fat cock in my fist and feel you swelling under my fingers.’

He choked on a mouthful of beer, failing to hide his arousal. The crotch of his jeans strained against the rapidly stiffening cock beneath them and he picked at the seams, unable to relieve or ignore his growing discomfort.

‘Are you OK there, big boy? Do you want me to help you out? Show me your cock and I’ll make this game worthwhile. Unzip your jeans and show me your cock, I want to taste you.’

There were less than 5 minutes left on the clock. Everyone was hunched over their tables, bodies trembling in expectation of a loss or a victory, eyes fixed on the screens.

No one noticed the man halfway back, sat at a table by himself with his legs spread wide across the aisle, slowly and cautiously unzipping his trousers. No one saw him pull out his cock, and no one saw the half-naked woman who appeared at his feet. He didn’t initially react to her. Maybe he didn’t see her either, but he could certainly feel her. As those around him stuttered to their feet when their team got just. so. close to scoring, he threw his head back with a deep groan as she pushed her lips over his full, thick length. As the sports fans cheered and bellowed at a unlikely final minute goal, he thrust his hips forward, forcing his cock deeper into her throat with a guttural roar. As they waited for the final whistle, he flopped back in his chair, letting her lips and tongue play over his skin as he writhed in ecstasy.

He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her. His mind and focus were nominally on the final seconds of the match on the screen, but his body and cock were like putty in her hands. Scratching her nails on his skin, she pushed him to jump and jolt in the chair; sucking him in deeper, she gagged against him as she pumped her mouth up and down over his long shaft, saliva and precum running down her face as she pushed him closer to orgasm, racing the referee for the victory lap.

As celebrations in this sports bar reached fever pitch, the likely victory of his team and her lips assaulting his cock overwhelmed him. Gripping her hair to hold her steady, he violently fucked her mouth, ramming his cock against her throat and sliding deeper with greater speed until he could hold back no more. Shuddering with release as the victory whistle blew, he came and came and came, filling her mouth with cum until it overflowed and dripped down onto her breasts.

Standing up, she walked over to her boyfriend and looked him straight in the eye. The glazed, vacant look faded as he took in the woman in front of him. He couldn’t avoid her now; she was right there and she was glorious. She knew exactly how she looked as wiped her mouth clean, another man’s cum shining on her sweat-stained body.

She raised her eyebrows as he gawped at her, this woman who he never knew.

‘Do you see me now?’

2 thoughts on “Sports bar…

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