When we walked into the bar that night, all the guys went gaga for the young lady bartender.

They swarmed her immediately, and it was embarrassing and a little ridiculous. I sat to the side of them, deciding that no woman was worth that type of foolery, no matter how good-looking.

That’s when I saw her. The piano player had been on break, so I hadn’t noticed her right away. But she pulled up the bench and began to play, and suddenly all the thoughts I’d had at being so much more centered than my buddies evaporated.

I wanted this woman.

She was about 45, I thought. Maybe a little older. Twice my age, I’d say. She had fine lines around the corners of her eyes, and when she looked my way, she smiled. I went hot under the collar and stared down into my drink. How was I going to make this happen? My friends were mooning and swooning over the vixen behind the bar. I didn’t want to act the same way.

We shared a few flirtatious glances before I got up my nerve.

I made my way to the piano and asked her for a song, then dropped my number in her tip jar. We’d see what we would see.

Honestly, nothing like this had ever happened to me. I tend to be cool with women, able to banter with the best of them. But there was something about this particular lady, the way she kept shooting me glances that gave me instant wood. Her fingers on the keys did something else to me. I wanted to feel her hands on my cock.

I only had the one drink, and then I left. To my surprise and total elation, my cell phone rang when I was hardly out the door.

“Wait up.”

I waited.

She exited the bar right after me, and she didn’t say a word. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me with her to the alley behind the place. Then it was on. She pressed her lean body to mine, so I could feel the warmth of her, the swell of her breasts against my chest, the way her hips moved as she kissed me.

It was like being kissed by her entire body.

“Who was this woman? She had a filthy mouth, but such a pristine face.”

I could feel the cold bricks of the wall behind me, which just made her seem all the hotter. She was the one to pop the buttons on my fly, to reach her hand in and tug my dick out into the cool air. She jacked me up and down, and I groaned and told her she was magic. Pure magic.

Then she pulled up her short skirt, revealing thigh-highs but no panties, and she had us switch positions, with her facing the building, her palms on the wall. I knew what she wanted. I anchored her with my hands on her slim waist, and I introduced her to my cock. I didn’t even know her name, but my dick knew what the inside of her pussy felt like.

We fit together like long-lost puzzle pieces. My parts interlocked with hers, and then her sweet love juices greased our ride.

She said, “As soon as I saw you, I wanted your cock.”

Who was this woman? She had such a filthy mouth, but such a pristine face. I loved the way she said the word “cock,” the way she was willing to have me do her in the raw night air.

Then she took things to a new level.

“Let’s go to my place,” she said. “I’ve got toys there. I can tie you down, whip you hard, make you beg. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” I told her. “Yes, please.”

“Prove it,” she demanded.

I wanted to. But how?

She took off her boots and then her stockings. She slipped her footwear back on and handed me the thigh-highs.

“Put these on.”

I looked at her, perplexed. She shimmied her skirt back into place, crossed her arms and waited. Shocked into submission, I took off my own shoes, then my jeans. While she watched, I put her stockings on. The fabric stretched around my thicker legs, but the sensation of wearing her lingerie was an even greater turn-on than fucking her had been.

I put my jeans back on, then the shoes, and then I waited.

“Good boy,” she said, stroking my hair. “I’ll take you home with me. What a night we’ll have.”’

She was right. Best night of my life.

That sultry, slutty musician played me all night long.

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