A moment of voyeurism

Occasionally I enjoy a martini in this comfortable little bar I know and work out potential topics to write about — gin, dry, with three olives. It’s a nice place to stoke the imagination, massage creativity, and engage in interesting conversation.

It’s early and there are only a few people that have settled in with friends. I’m enjoying my martini and watch the women that, through happenstance, come into view. I write at the back of the bar and have full view of those who come in or decide to stay out on the patio — a beautiful blonde looking for a drink and a quiet place to read has just asked for a seat. I smile as I ask myself if I’d fuck her.

She likes gin she says — there is something about her voice that has me decide I’d fuck her; I image how she sounds when she cums.

Two women at the front have decided to settle the bill and come to the bar. They intensely review the bill and pay; one of them loves the bar so much she takes a picture and shows her friend as they leave. They are pretty but I decide I wouldn’t really want to fuck either of them.

A couple on the other side of the bar are seducing each other in conversation — sometimes they are loud enough to hear over the quiet music from the ceiling speakers, but more often their whispers are lost to my imagination. I imagine her sucking his cock later and then fucking him until they both cum.

The blonde is now intently reading her book — a black bra strap has fallen from her shoulder and I imagine firm breasts and nipples quietly waiting.

 I think of you for a moment; then go back to my writing.

The whispering couple is leaving — as I watch them go, I decide she probably doesn’t like to suck his cock. She will fuck him later out of a sense of obligation and most likely think of something else as she does.

The owner is now behind the bar talking to the bartender; a sure sign it’s about to get busier. Her dark hair is up in a ponytail and I think she has new glasses — I will ask when I get the chance. I go back to writing as I imagine what she tastes like. Gingerly I skewer the last olive in the glass, put it in my mouth and bite into it; I decide it’s time to find my way. I motion for the bill and am greeted with a smile.

I would definitely fuck her, even more so than the blonde who has also just asked for the check.

W