Our Lady of the Cocktails
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mother, Daughter,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Casey Andrews had dreamed of becoming a cocktail waitress from the age of 6. She adored her waitress mother, Candy - - gorgeous, glamorous, sexy. Candy filled Casey's head with tales of flattering light, handsome men, ice tinkling in glasses. Casey saw the sexy outfits Candy wore to work. And saw the tips that her mother brought home. Candy would flash a twenty and wink at Casey, "BJ." Candy saw Casey as a bonus for her stream of boyfriends to admire. As a way to attract better men.
Casey Andrews smiled comfortably at the familiar sight. Her mother, Candy, nude in front of her full-length mirror. Brushing her lush auburn hair.
Candy was the woman Casey would grow up to be. Tall and slender, small perky boobs with pink nipples. Tucked-in waist, tight butt, long, long legs. Candy had a runway model’s body, but it was her face that drew the initial attention.
That thick hair, cut in a bob that framed her oval face. Strong cheekbones, striking green eyes, a generous mouth over a firm chin. Long, Audrey Hepburn neck that led to wide swimmer’s shoulders.
Candy Andrews was a package, the real deal.
Like Casey would do in a few years, Candy had started as a cocktail waitress when she was 14. That she was fucking the owner of Bull’s helped Red overlook her lack of paperwork.
Red understood that Candy would freelance. He paid minimum wage and the tips in his Redneck Riviera bar weren’t that generous. So he told his managers to look the other way when Candy followed this customer or that one out to his car on her breaks.
Candy had hoped to get $10 for a blowjob. Her first customer slipped her a $20 and that instantly became her line in the sand. Of course when a man took her to a motel ... well, she expected a lot more than $20.
Candy would later roam from bar to bar, town to town, state to state. But until she acquired some decent ID, she was stuck in fucking Alabama.
It wasn’t that bad. Red let Candy and her daughter stay rent free in a crapped-out trailer that would never leave the cement blocks it rested on. Slightly tilted.
Candy was as open and guileless as a little girl. Her daughter Casey would grow up to be the same way. Neither one possessed a conversational governor to filter what came out of their mouths.
Candy shared everything with the little girl -- she didn’t know how not to.
Casey had grown up watching her mother primp for work. When Casey set off on her own at 14, she would follow Candy’s routine to a T.
Nude except for heels. Brush, brush, brush her hair. Apply what little makeup was called for on her flawless skin. Moisturize. Subtle flowery scent. Check closely for any stray hair above her tiny pussy. Walk back and forth in front of the mirror to monitor her legs and butt.
Satisfied, step into a wispy suggestion of panties and pull on that night’s outfit.
Remind Casey to lock the door and trundle off to work in that smoke-belching excuse of a Buick.
Candy was a hard worker, always had been. She’d voluntarily fill in for every job -- from bartender to busboy -- when needed.
Candy worked hard in another arena ... using everything she had to earn extra tips. That men, and a couple of women regulars, felt her up as she waited tables was a given. Having her nipples gently tweaked or her pussy played with for a few seconds didn’t necessarily lead to bigger tips.
But it didn’t hurt either.
Plus, Candy grew up just as Casey would ... automatically pleasing men. Candy wasn’t book smart, but she was intuitive. She had learned at a very young age what men were interested in. And learned that she enjoyed giving it to them. Really enjoyed it.
To the regulars in Bull’s, it was a common sight to see a man whispering in Candy’s ear as he was leaving. Then, a couple of minutes later, Candy would casually trail out after him. She’d return in 10 minutes or so with a pleased look on her face.
All four night waitress covered for each other. None had graduated from high school and all needed the extra income that came from satisfying customers in and out of the bar.
Red put up with it, he was fucking all of them. But he did Candy more than the other three combined.
It was well known, and well understood, that Bull’s suppliers -- booze, food, equipment -- enjoyed their sales calls in this particular bar. The owner, Red, moved Candy to the day shift when the suppliers had appointments.
Red kept a twin bed in his office. And had had a small shower installed when he bought the building. The cleaning crew changed the linen every morning so the bed was usually fresh.
No matter what time each supplier came into Bull’s, Candy would head back to the office and undress. Waiting for the supplier and Red to finish the paperwork.
Candy told Casey, “I don’t know how big a discount Red gets from them, but he gives me 50 bucks each time.”
“For fucking them?”
“Of course, silly. Red wouldn’t give me that much just for a blowjob.”
Candy’s young daughter nodded solemnly, filing the information away. For when she, too, could be a cocktail waitress.
After fucking a supplier and taking another quick shower, Candy didn’t dress. More often than not, Red would fuck her too. Just as the night waitresses did, the day staff covered for each other. Red was a notorious pussy hound and fucked his waitresses and barmaids whenever the mood took him.
He hired all females and had scores of applicants seeking work. It was well known throughout southern Alabama and northern Florida that if you got a job at Bull’s, Red would fuck you.
He was fair however. He never took a girl to bed after interviewing her unless he did indeed hire her. The staff and regular customers knew when they saw him escorting a woman back to his office, she would soon be working one of the shifts.
In some ways, Red was a creature of habit. When the husband or steady boyfriend of one of his staff came into Bull’s for drinks, that waitress or barmaid would unobtrusively sidle back to Red’s office and undress. After she’d been well fucked, she would return to her husband and whisper something like, “You’re going to get lucky tonight, honey.”
Red’s staff knew he liked his married waitresses to give their husbands sloppy seconds. And, since the women not only depended upon Red for their livelihood, they liked him, they tried to keep him happy.
The exception to Red’s all-female hiring policy was with busboys and dishwashers. Here, Red hired slender Latino teenagers. Usually with no documentation and little English.
Candy had told Casey, “Red likes pussy. Period. Girls, women, grannies. Boys.”
“Sure, it’s all the same to Red. Pussy is pussy.” Candy giggled, “Sometimes two or three of us waitresses have to hold a new boy down for Red.” Candy winked, “Just until they get used to getting butt-fucked.”
Red paid his undocumented workers in cash. Unlike with the waitresses whom he fucked for free, he gave the boys small bonuses when he fucked them.
None of the women who worked for Red found it the slightest bit odd that he enjoyed little boy pussy too. Red was just Red.
If Candy hadn’t been taken to a motel by this customer or that one, she was usually home by 2:30 in the morning. She’d check on Casey, asleep under the covers on the ratty little couch in Red’s ratty little trailer.
Candy’s idea of luxury living was turning on a playlist, sinking into a bubble bath and smoking a little dope.
This was Candy’s selfish time, her time to relax. And plan her future.
When Casey turned 7, Candy decided she was old enough to stay home on her own. Not paying for childcare made a huge difference. Now the only time she worried about Casey was when a man wanted her all night after she got off work.
It was in her bubble bath that Candy had come up with an ingenious solution. It didn’t work every time, some nights she had to pay a babysitter.
But because almost all the men who fucked her were married, it worked a lot of the time. Every man who had a daughter old enough to babysit, was enlisted to help Candy out.
Most of those fathers were so eager to get the gorgeous waitress in bed they were happy to pay their daughters to spend the night with Casey.
This night, in the bath, Candy was pondering another challenge. She wanted to attract a higher caliber of men. A wealthier demographic than frequented Bull’s. Although an occasional stranger with the right looks, the right attitude, came in, that was the exception rather than the rule.
Candy was a realist. She cooly assessed herself every evening in front of the mirror. She knew she was choice, way too good for Bull’s. But until she scored some ID ... well, she was stuck.
Candy would leave Bull’s in a heartbeat, she was heavily recruited by other bar owners and managers. But working at Bull’s meant living rent free. And those $50 bonuses were most welcome. Plus, Red let her entertain other men during and after work.
So, it wouldn’t be that simple to leave Bull’s. But Candy was saving money pretty faithfully. She didn’t have car payments. Unfortunately she didn’t have car insurance either. Tough to get when you don’t have a driver’s license.
But those were small problems compared with upgrading her boyfriends.
Candy sighed, her mind kept circling back to the same solution -- Casey. Candy saw how her current boyfriends, glanced at Casey, looked away, looked back.
Couldn’t blame them, that little girl was one sexy number.
Casey had her mother’s lush auburn hair. She was tall for her age. No boobs yet, but Candy knew it was what was between her daughter’s legs that counted.
Candy made up her mind to talk with Casey the next afternoon. Maybe this time she’d really do it. She would. Casey had about a 10 minute walk home from school and Candy was almost always was awake by 3.
So, that’s settled.
In fact, it was another month before Candy had The Talk with her daughter. It occurred where they always had their serious discussions, in front of Candy’s mirror as she prepped herself for work.
Casey was seated on the floor cross-legged so she could look up into her mother’s face reflected in the mirror.
Candy sighed, “I need your help, baby.”
“You probably noticed the men who’ve been calling on me aren’t exactly the cream of the crop.”
“I thought that Danny was nice.”
“Yeah, well he’s history.”
“What I’m thinking, honey, is I need to shake things up.”
Candy smiled down at her daughter, “You’re a sexy little number, I’m sure you’ve seen the way they look at you.”
In fact, Casey had. To say that Candy had a ... casual attitude about sex was to imbue her with far more discretion than she actually had. Casey couldn’t count the number of times she’s seen her mother wander out of the bedroom with this nude man or that one.
To be fair to Candy, when she was idly stroking a cock in front of her daughter, it was an unconscious act. Automatic.
Casey found men in general, and nude ones in particular, fascinating. And since Candy neglected to close her bedroom door about as often as she remembered ... well, Casey’s sex education classes came at an early age.
And, yes, Casey was aware, pleasantly so, of the way men looked at her. Some tried to be subtle. Others, the more confident ones, appraised her openly.
Casey smiled up at her mother’s reflection, “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it.”
Candy took a deep breath, “Undress baby, let me check you out.”
Casey stood and quickly stripped. A nude girl smiling at her nude mother.
Candy smiled back and made a twirling motion with her index finger. Casey spun in a slow circle. Candy studied her to see how the men would see Casey. New men, she hoped.
Candy nodded, this could work. She said, “Would you mind ... would you be comfortable letting them see you this way?”
“I’d love it!”
Candy could tell her daughter was sincere. Perhaps too eager, but sincere.
As Candy continued to ready herself for work, they talked back and forth, formulating a rudimentary game plan.
Candy mused, “We’ll start with Paul.”
“He’s the short one.”
“Yeah he is. But he’s gentle as a lamb. Does what I tell him to. But mainly he’s a big gossip, he’ll spread the word about you.”
“He’s coming to spend the night Friday. You’ll be asleep when we get home.”
Candy thought, “No, save that for in the morning. When you fix us breakfast around 1 or 2.”
“Okay. He just eats cereal so there’s not much to fix.”
“Does he? Fine. Serve him in the nude. And don’t be shy.”
“You understand what I mean by don’t be shy?”
Casey grinned, plopped back down on the floor, leaned back down on her elbows and opened her slender thighs. “Beaver.”
“Where the fuck did you learn that word?”
Casey shrugged, “School.”