I was bored. I had left school that summer with no qualifications and the stern warning from my teachers that, if I carried on like this, I would amount to nothing. Unemployed and living with my Mum and her latest boyfriend in a small flat on a run-down inner-city housing estate, life wasn’t that great.
Whilst the boys of my age constantly told me I was, “fit as fuck”, with my brunette hair and bleached blond highlights, and a taste for clothes that showed it off my tight little body, most of them were on drugs, selling drugs, or nicking cars; I could well do without some bloke who would be inside for the next few years, or spending his days wasted on the settee. And in any case, boys of my own age did little for me; older men were my thing. But that did mean I hadn’t been getting any for ages.
The other problem was money. Mum and her boyfriend demanded most of my benefits as board and lodging, which I suppose was fair enough. But it meant I was skint. And that meant nights out up west with the girls, where there might be some decent and more mature blokes, were few and far between. So not only was I bored and skint, I was horny. Really horny. And there is only so much a girl can do with her fingers and a hairbrush handle.
Salvation came when I saw an advert in the corner shop for a part-time barmaid in the local pub. It was a dive, with shuttered windows and a clientele made up of out-of-work middle-aged men. But it was a job.
The interview with the landlords was more of a chat. Mal and Jane were a married couple in their late 40s. With jet black hair, and dressed in tight blue denim jeans and a black spaghetti strap lace tank top that clung to her full figure, Jane was very much in charge, and, after years of running a pub in a run-down area, hard-faced and shrewd. Mal had a ready wit and a cheeky grin. Despite having gone to seed, he was still quite good-looking.
To my relief, they gave me a job, working five days a week. They both covered the busier evenings; hiring me allowed one of them at a time to take time during the day to do the accounts and order stock, or just take some time off. In confirming my hours and pay, Jane suggested it would help sales if I wore clothes that kept the mainly male clientele interested; “short skirts and tight tops sell pints, luv,” she smiled encouragingly.
The work was easy, although Jane was a demanding boss and made sure I pulled my weight. Mal was great at the front of house. He also had a roaming eye, which, when he thought I wasn’t looking, was fixed on me. It was quite a turn-on; pretending I hadn’t noticed, I made a point of bending over to pick up glasses, or leaning against the bar and pushing out my firm little arse, so that he could letch at me.
A few days after I started working there, Jane had announced she was taking a day off to see some of her mates.
“Just be you and me holding the fort, Tiff,” Mal grinned, with a twinkle in his eye. I responded with a wink, before walking away slowly, knowing his eyes were boring holes in my skin-tight jeans.
The next day, I turned up with butterflies in my stomach. With my hair in a loose ponytail and wearing large hooped earrings, I was dressed in a blue and white cotton crop top, which hugged my firm boobs and made it obvious I wasn’t wearing a bra. Separated from the crop top by a bare midriff and dangling crystal belly button ring, was an old pair of cream jeans, which I had cut off to make into shorts that barely covered my peachy little buttocks.
It was a cold day, so I arrived at the pub wearing a short black puffa-style coat with a fake fur-lined hood. Greeting Mal, I slipped it off and placed it and my handbag down on a chair in the corner of the bar, deliberately bending over as I did so, to offer him a prolonged view of my arse. Straightening slowly and turning to face him with an innocent look, it was obvious I had achieved the desired effect.
Business was slow, with only a few of the die-hard regulars nursing pints in silence as they watched sport on the big screen. Mal and I chatted in a flirty way, whilst we restocked and organised ready for the evening. This meant passing each other frequently in the narrow serving area. Without making it obvious, I made sure to brush past him each time: sometimes with my bum; sometimes with my boobs. In addition, I made sure to bend over slowly whenever restocking the fridges, and push my boobs out when reaching up to stack the glasses. After an hour or so of this, Mal was looking increasingly flustered.
The pub slowly emptied of its remaining punters. By the time we had finished, the last one had wandered off home. Mal followed him and locked the entrance door, before re-joining me behind the bar.
“Not bad,” Mal grinned, leaning against the counter, and admiring our handiwork.
“Yeah, I reckon we deserve a reward,” I replied with a wink, leaning back against the counter opposite him, arching my back slightly.
“And what sort of reward do we deserve then, Tiff,” he asked in a tense voice.
“Well, the best sort of reward is something you aren’t normally allowed,” I responded in a low sultry tone, my eyes locked on his, and my stomach turning with nervous excitement and anticipation. I could feel my nipples hardening slightly, and pressing against the tight cotton crop top.
“Always,” he mumbled, his eyes mentally undressing me. Pushing gently away from the counter, I stood close enough to feel the warmth of his body, see the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, and hear the tightness of his breathing.
Maintaining eye contact, I traced an index finger across his hairy chest. He caught his breath as the red-painted fingernail slid down over the protruding roundness of his beer belly. “Are there things Jane won’t allow you, Mal,” I murmured, raising my eyebrows questioningly.
“There are one or two things,” he croaked, feeling my finger slide lightly along the underside of his belly, which was hanging over the belt on his jeans.
My hands moved to unbuckle his belt. Leaning forward, and undoing the button on his jeans, I whispered in his ear, “Does your wife suck your cock, Mal?”
“She hasn’t done that in years,” he trembled, as I unzipped him and prised the straining member from the prison of his jeans. Moaning, he pulled the crop top up and cupped my firm teenage tits.
Wrapping a hand around the thick shaft and stroking it slowly, I nibbled on his ear and asked, “Well, if Jane won’t, how about, as your reward, I suck your dick, Mal?”
He nodded eagerly in response, before lowering his mouth onto each of my nipples in turn. He flicked and teased them with his tongue, making me moan softly whilst I wanked him with gentle, gliding movements. Releasing him from my grasp, I slid down to my knees in the confined space between the counters. Looking up at the middle-aged man, with his manhood sticking out beneath the round expanse of his belly, I held his cock up and began to lick and suck his balls.
Smiling at the landlord, I pulled his length down towards my mouth. Then, eyes twinkling with mischief, I used a hand to work the shaft, whilst teasing the spongy head with the tip of my tongue.
“Oh my God, Tiff,” Mal sighed, his hands running through my hair. Repositioning, I parted my lips and took Mal’s glans into my mouth. Twirling my tongue around the delicate underside, I placed my small hands on his hairy thighs. Then, easing him inch by inch until I had him deep inside my mouth, I began to bob up and down on his hard meat.
“Good girl,” he groaned, gripping my head and guiding me as clucking noises filled the air.
After a few minutes of this, he pulled me firmly away, my lips moist with spit and pre-cum.
“Much more of that, and I wouldn’t be able to give you your treat,” he grinned, lifting me to my feet.
“Ohhh, what’s my treat, then,” I giggled, as he pushed me forward onto the counter, yanked down my shorts, and spread my legs. Placing a hand on the small of my back, he used the other hand to pull my knickers to one side and position his glans so that it was nestling up against my mound.
“My fat cock in your cunt,” he grunted, pushing home in one fluid motion.
“Fucckkkkkk,” I screamed, my eyes widening as he entered me. Without pausing, he began to take me whilst pinning me down on the counter. Moaning in response to each deep lunge, I reached out to grip the wooden edge of the bar.
“Fuck you’re tight,” Mal panted, his hands gripping my hips and his fat belly slapping against my arse with each repeated thrust; his cock making me scream as it plunged deep into my teenage pussy. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you; you like me fucking your tight little cunt, eh,” he growled, slapping my bum, which I had willingly arched and pushed back against his throbbing cock.
“I fuckin’ love it," I wailed, my tight young body shuddering as the older man took me bent over the bar. For someone who clearly didn’t take much exercise, he had amazing stamina; breathing hard, and with sweat pouring from his glistening head and body, he used his hips to drive in and out of my exposed quim over and over again.
“Don’t stop, Mal; please don’t stop,” I begged, “I’m cumming; I’m cumming; Oh fuck, yes, I’m cumming...” I wailed, my pussy clenched around his shaft, pulsating as I came hard; my body quivering with the power of the orgasm.
Lying slumped on the counter, I heard Mal mutter, “fuck, fuck, fuck”, and felt him hastily pull his cock out from my pussy. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw him stroking himself vigorously. Seconds later, he let out a groan and deposited warm gooey cum on my lower back and bum.
“Fuck that was good, Tiff, you little tart,” he grinned at me, whilst lathering the sticky white mess over my arse with the head of his cock.
Pushing myself off the counter, I grabbed a bar towel and made an attempt to clean myself, whilst Mal dressed himself. Then, I pulled up my crop top and put my shorts back on; despite my efforts, I could feel his cum soaking into the back of my knickers.
“Is that the time,” I said, looking at the clock, “I should head off.” Smiling, I lent in and gave the landlord a kiss on his glistening cheek. “Tell you what, Mal: the pay here might be a bit rubbish, but the rewards system ain’t bad…”
