Monica Gift
Copyright© 2022 by SZENSEI
Episode 30: Barfight
Erotica Sex Story: Episode 30: Barfight - Monica Gift was always a nympho. Her namesake a gift to all men. Drop dead gorgeous but playing both sides of the spectrum, she could be the quiet nerd or the slut all men craved. Her Jekyll and Hyde persona was what made her so desirable. Growing up far too fast the beautiful high school student meant to create an empire based on lust. Give guys what they wanted, putty in her hands. Barely legal, she had their attention long before. In more ways than one. "Who wants some? That many! Yesssss!"
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Incest Father Daughter Uncle Humiliation Rough Gang Bang Group Sex Interracial Black Male Black Female White Male White Female Hispanic Male Hispanic Female Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Voyeurism
Brock Quinones waited Monica Gift in his back driveway. Sitting in his jeep he wondered if tonight was a mistake. He had arranged an afterhours gathering of a few drinking buddies and a number of other local bar hounds. Roughly guessing ten or more. At least those he knew about. No telling how many others his bartender buddy Fergus had tipped off about the exhibitionist coming to visit.
He wasn’t proud of this achievement. This young lady might get hurt and there could be little he could do to help her. Luckily, he found at least the comfort that the bar’s actual owner, Hollister aka Holly was a good friend. Even though Holly used to be a bad ass Biker back in the day. After ten more minutes of waiting Monica finally stepped around the corner of his garage.
She was wearing a tight turquoise green dress that barely covered her ass. The front cleavage was wide open and revealing 60 % of her chest formation. Her massive cleavage bulged with each step threatening to escape captivity. No bra for certain as her nipples strained the fabric taunt. Up her hips the dress had thin shoestring laces that were threaded to both sides of her fabric. There was no mistake. No underwear was being worn. As if he expected less from the little nympho.
She wore extra high 6-inch stiletto heels making her 5’2 height increase to 5’8. Her long dark brown hair flowed freely over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back.
“I’m here.”
“I see that. Looking hot, Monica.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” She wiggled up into her seat beside him.
“Are you positive you want to do this?”
“I’m positive I want to be seen naked by hungry eyes.”
“Wolves don’t just watch their prey, Monica. They attack.”
“Don’t save me, Daddy.” She shivered then leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“You would say that. Don’t hold anything against me if it gets out of control.”
“I trust you, Brock. You have friends there, right?”
“Yeah, but my friends have seen you before. Don’t think for one second they don’t think about fucking the shit out of you.”
“Quit trying to scare me. I’ll manage this.” Frowning with a loud sigh he fired up his Wrangler.
“Ok. Here we go.”
Backing out he drove them six miles out into the country to a back woods bar known as Holly’s as owned by Hollister Drummond. Pitch black all the way there until the parking lot. Even then, only one lonely pole light oversaw the property. Interior lights were all they had to see by. Eerie for certain.
“It’s so dark out here.” She wheezed at the shadows. “You never mentioned this was the set of a horror movie.”
“Jason Voorhees and Freddy Kruger are inside with It the Clown. Don’t hide behind the chainsaws.” He growled knowing that things were going to go south fast.
The interior of the bar was dimly lit without any of the normal neon beer signs glowing to know it was closed. Music could be heard at least from a jukebox. Brock counted twelve trucks, two bikes and four cars. That many vehicles sure made it look open for business.
“More people than I expected.” He huffed! “I only know two cars. My drinking buddies, Dawson and Vic. They were at my house once when we watched you playing in your bedroom.”
“When was this?” She purred!
“Two years ago. Right after you turned 16. If not a day or 2 beforehand. Sick fuckers, I know.”
“Was I really frisky that night? I hope I made you all happy that day.”
“Oh, you did.” He smirked, shutting his jeep off. “Especially when you crawled out of your bedroom window and took two guys to your garage. We snuck out there and watched you fuck them through the window. I still recall your sweet echoes. Wish I had, had my camcorder back then. That night prompted me to go buy one.”
“And the best is history.” Spritzing herself up from a tiny perfume bottle she returned it to her clutch purse and sat it between their seats. “Do I smell yummy?”
“Do I need to answer that?”
“Feed my ego.”
“These guys are going to eat you alive.”
Fanning herself at his answer she inhaled deeply. “As long as my head isn’t mounted on the wall later.”
“Want me to go in first and check things out? Holly might let me do that at least.”
“No. I want you to stay right here and let me go in alone. You can come in later if they let you.”
“Not going to happen. I told you Holly’s conditions.”
She offered a beguiling look of hunger. “Tough luck, Daddy.”
“Why would you want to circle the wolf’s den without back up?”
“I want them to size me up without you scaring them.”
He growled clutching his steering wheel tightly until his knuckles glowed in the dark. “I’m going to regret this. Don’t break a leg in those heels, the ground out here has more holes than you do.”
“Helpless makes me wet.”
She giggled then crawled out of the jeep heading toward the front door. Brock merely sat there watching her ass wiggle in his headlights.
At the door she peeked through the glass to see eight men sitting at the bar drinking. Six more throwing darts. Two more shooting pool. There were two men behind the bar. Two very big, mean looking biker types. “Heels Angels!” she kicked her toes on the concrete. “Ride me like a hog boys’.”
“Eighteen.” She calculated! “There were more dicks in the men’s room at school. Too bad Terry Mulder’s dad isn’t here. Ben would make sure I got manhandled the way I like it.”
Shrugging she opened the door and entered casually. All eyes drifted toward her within two minutes. Nobody said a word. They merely feasted on her allure. After a moment of being ogled in a dead silence she raised her arms in the air over her head and belted out, “THE STRIPPER IS HERE!”
Everyone resumed what they were doing with very little interest at the moment. Maybe they were just giving her a chance to bolt and run. She chose to stay and step up to the bar. Climbing onto a barstool she sat her clutch purse on the bar. The bartender was a hefty fellow with a grey t-shirt and a black leather vest. He had a beard and lengthy hair pinned back behind his head. Tattoos wrapped his arms in an ornate set of sleeves.
“What’s a girl have to do around here to get a drink?” She tried to appear beguiling.
The other gentleman was a taller man equally as large as his associate but had a full beard of grey that was dangling down to his chest. He was easily older and wore wire rim glasses and a green camouflage bandana around his head. His t-shirt had a Harley-Davidson logo on it. This man who was drying a glass beer mug sneered at her.
“Pop machine’s outside.” There was indeed a vintage Coca-Cola machine outside.
“It’s okay. I don’t drink alcohol anyway. Not old enough. Are you Holly?”
“You the slut?”
Her jaw droops with a playful if not fabricated awe. Had Brock led on that she was a slut? Good man! The idea made her smile brightly.
“I guess we’ll find out.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “I prefer sex kitten. Meow!”
The other bartender chuckled over her bravado. “I’m Fergus”.
“Hi, I’m Sex Kitty.” She eagerly extended a hand across the bar. Fergus took time to shake it lightly. Holly seemed grumpy and stroked his beard.
“Got I.D.?”
She opened her clutch purse and produced an identification card that documented her birthday.
“Pretty much just turned legal. Six weeks ago. We got us a barely legal slut. Nothing better.” Fergus looked over Holly’s shoulder as he held the card.
“Yep. I expected more people. Did my age scare guys off?” She glanced behind her. “I hope not.”
“Few in the back room. Some of us prefer things a little less crowded.” Holly grumbled and moved on to dry more mugs.
Fergus shook his head. “The old man just doesn’t want things to get too out of hand.”
“Not worried in the least. She should be though.”
“Are you trying to scare me off because you think I’m incapable of handling any situation?” She frowned! “Kittens have claws. I’d rather use them in a sensual manner but hey.”
Holly snarled while slinging his dish towel over his shoulder. He then planted his massive hands on the bar to stare her down. “I’ll take the cell phone now.”
Monica opened up her clutch and removed her cell handing it over to him by sliding it on the bar. “Guess I can’t call for help now. Can I?”
“Nope!” The elder pocketed the cell then mumbled, “Lock the door Fergus.”
The bartender nodded and stepped away to lock the door and close the blinds. Monica never once watched him do so. Her eyes remained trained on Holly’s with her best fearless gaze. Fergus went about closing every blind in the tavern. He had help with a few of those by the guys throwing darts. While it was just Holly and Monica, the older man leaned even closer to her. She could feel and smell his breath. He had certainly been drinking.
“Quinones tell you my conditions?”
“Anything goes as long as there’s no violence. I swore Brock to no interference just like you expected. I can handle rough as long as there’s no beating on me.”
“Get out.” Holly huffed and slid her phone back toward her.
“What? Noooo!” She shoved her phone back at him. “I’ll take my chances. Besides you said no violence.”
“You got no say in my bar. You don’t make any conditions. You just made your own decision.”
“I’ll go on faith that no violence means no beating me up. I’m not leaving.” She held her ground. “I NEED this. They need this.”
As she rested her elbows on the bar to move her face closer to his, she stuck her tongue out at him. The ice was chipped away. Holly had to chuckle. Monica nearly pissed herself.
“REEL IT IN FELLAS.” Holly loudly stood erect and motioned with waving hands. “Gather around!” Suddenly, the darts stopped flying and pool cues were set aside. The room circled Monica on her chair.
“NO NAMES!” Holly bellowed!
“JUST MINE.” Monica raised a finger high. “CALL ME, SLUT KITTY. Mew! Mew!” The group had to laugh at her childlike interruption. She certainly had a ballsy demeanor to say the least.
Fergus waved at Monica, “I forgot I told you my name.”
Holly shook his head at the bartender for being naive. He was protecting his clientele not his staff. “Get some damned music going. She’s got some dancing to do.”
One of the pool players took off with quarters for the jukebox. In minutes he selected a good ten songs that fit a stripper. She barely knew any of them. Holly being older had an affinity for 80’s Metal. Fuck that country bullshit! She knew a few but not many.
The first tune was the old Def Leppard classic “Pour some Sugar on Me”. She did know this one.
Spinning on her bar chair she stood up and wiggled her way out to the dance floor. There she realized they already had a stripper pole. She had never actually used a pole before, but she felt like conquering the world.
Gripping the pole with her right hand she swung herself around numerous times. Eyes watched her closely. She noted the growing lust in their eyes. The natives were getting restless fast. Talk amongst them made her leave the pole and venture amidst them. She turned her back to them and brushed her way into the horde, her ass rubbing against crotches and her palms caressing cheeks and beards. She even swiped a ball cap that had a Bass patch sewn on it. Wearing it she made her way around the men one by one offering them her own greeting through seductive body nudges.
Monica Lynn was shocked by her balance. She had never worn stiletto heels other than practicing around the house. Her balance was occasionally off but she managed to catch herself. By the end of the first song she returned to the pole. The second song was Guns & Roses, Welcome to the Jungle. They were tiring her out fast she thought. Two fast songs in a row. She huffed the hair from her eyes and kept up. Her stolen ballcap taken away by its owner.
This time she lifted her dress up and gave them a view of her lower ass cheeks. While dancing up close hands caressed her butt and caressed the sides of her body. Her hair whipped about and she threw herself face forward into a number of men to kiss their cheeks. As that song played out the men were looking antsy. She wondered what she was doing wrong. She knew her dress was coming off soon, she was just pacing herself. Patience she thought.
She noticed the guessing ages of the men there were in their 40’s. A few younger possibly. Not that it mattered. Hunter types. Biker types. Farmer types. As she danced, she realized the body count was increasing. Definitely over the eighteen she counted from outside. Holly had said others were in back. She figured two or three more. Her guess now was getting closer to twenty-five. Her heart pounded with excitement.
Finally, a slower song. Aerosmith’s, Angel! She hadn’t heard it before, but she loved the beat. It allowed her to dance in a sultry manner with her hands in her hair like a wild woman. Slower struts! More sensual in brushing up on guys. This song the men were loosening up more. Hands reached around her and clutched her breasts. She loved their change in adrenalin.
Holly actually stepped into the mix and waited until she spotted him. Smiling devilishly she stalked toward him and teased him with her palms gliding up his chest. She even caressed his beard. Turning her back to rub on him he waited until her hands raised above her head before swiftly gripping them.
She froze at being captured and tried to look up at him. Before her eyes reached that goal she spotted two men draw out large hunting knives and let her see the glinting chrome blades. Her eyes trembled at the sight. She didn’t resist Holly’s grip. She knew Brock was outside. Surely these men wouldn’t hurt her. It was intimidation. Still, the worry made her tense.
The men stood to her sides as Holly held her hands high and nudged her body away from his. Enough for the men to tease her further by letting her feel the cool steel on her heated flesh. A trail up her legs. Across her chest. The lengths of her arms. Finally the knives snipped the two thin shoulder straps. They proceeded down to the laces going up her bare sides. Lace by lace was cut. She felt the dress loosening about her.