The Bar’s Peeping Toms Wanted to See Her Again

Ever since I hired Lorena, the bar’s whole pulse changed. I’m not talking only about the takings, though those changed too, but about the very air of the place. The retirees lingered over their coffee, the mechanics ordered another round, and even the driest of men found any excuse to come up to the bar and watch her move among the bottles, plates, and order slips.

I’d spent years in that place, between the grill, the fryer, and the constant smell of spilled beer. I knew my customers by heart. I knew when one came in looking for a chat, when another was just there to kill time, and, above all, when a man was getting himself worked up just by looking.

Lorena was more than old enough, a woman with a full figure, large breasts, a defined waist, and a way of walking that didn’t need to exaggerate anything to draw attention. She wasn’t stupid or innocent. She learned the job quickly, and learned even faster what she provoked in a place full of men who spent all day fantasizing about anything that smelled of fresh meat.

The bar was narrow, and the kitchen narrower still. We worked almost pressed together. Sometimes, when she passed behind me, her tits brushed my back and she didn’t even pull away right away. Other times, when she bent down for ice or soft drinks, she left her cleavage right in the angle where she knew I’d look, even if I tried to hide it.

I played along too. Not with words, because I was very careful not to say something stupid too soon, but with my body. A hand on her hip to move her aside while I took out a tray. My fingers lingering a second too long on her ass when I passed behind her. My palm brushing her side and, in passing, reaching the curve of a tit beneath her shirt.

She never complained.

Quite the opposite. Sometimes she would turn her face slightly, look at me over her shoulder, and smile with a calmness that made me harder than any moan. It was the smile of a knowing woman, not a surprised girl. A smile that said, I know what you’re doing, and I haven’t stopped you yet.

The customers noticed everything too. One day I understood why we had suddenly started selling so many cold milkshakes. The display refrigerator was low, beside the bar, and to reach the bottles at the back Lorena had to bend over deeply. Her cleavage opened like an invitation, and more than one man sat there with his mouth hanging open, staring at the valley between her tits.

“Put them at the back,” I told her that morning, pretending to be serious. “They cool better there.”

She held my gaze a second longer than necessary before answering.

“Of course. At the back.”

She said it knowing exactly why I was asking. From then on, whenever someone ordered a milkshake, she stuck half her body into the cooler and left just enough on display for a hungry silence to settle over the tables. The whole bar seemed to drink from that cleavage.

At night, her boyfriend, Damián, waited for her. A broad-shouldered man with a short beard and a way of looking at his woman as though she were his property and his trophy at the same time. He almost always came before closing, had a couple of drinks, and waited while we cleaned and tidied up.

The first time I went into the storeroom without fully announcing myself, I wanted to see her changing. I won’t lie. I opened the door on the excuse of giving her her share of the tips and found her with her trousers already on but unbuttoned, her belly bare, and her bra halfway up.

She covered herself for a moment, more out of reflex than embarrassment. Then she saw me staring at her tits, didn’t move her arms away right away, and let one cup of the bra slip far enough to show me a full, heavy breast, its dark nipple already half-hard from the cool air in the room.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” she said.

The question hit me in the crotch like a blow. I closed the door behind me.

She took her bra off completely. She didn’t do it quickly, but with a slowness designed to be watched. Her breasts fell free, large and alive, with the kind of weight that made you watch them move. She lifted them with both hands, massaged them slowly from underneath, and pinched her nipples while I remained rooted in front of her, my cock throbbing inside my trousers.

“Don’t make that face,” she murmured. “If I didn’t want you to look, I would have thrown you out.”

I didn’t touch her that time. She put on another bra, thinner and more provocative, and a tight-fitting shirt that outlined her nipples. She left the storeroom as if nothing had happened. I stayed behind for a moment, breathing deeply like an idiot.

The next day we worked with a different kind of tension. It was no longer just accidental contact. It was a silent agreement. Every time she passed me, she let me feel her. When I got too close, she didn’t move away. When she had to climb onto a stool to reach something, she knew perfectly well what she was putting within reach of my hands.

In the middle of the afternoon, with only two tables occupied by old men playing cards, she leaned over the bar, arched her back slightly, and offered me her ass as if serving it to me on a tray. I got behind her on the pretext of collecting glasses and slid my hand beneath her apron and tight trousers.

Her panties were already wet.

I slid two fingers between her lips and she let out a breath through her nose, barely moving so as not to attract attention. I caressed her pussy slowly, opening her with my fingers and feeling her grow wetter. When I sought out her clitoris with my fingertip, her hips pushed backward against my hand.

“Not like that,” she whispered without looking at me. “You’re going to make me moan right here.”

“That doesn’t seem to bother you.”

“It wouldn’t bother me if there weren’t witnesses.”

We had to stop because two new customers came in. But in that brief touch I understood two things: Lorena got aroused by risk, and I was no longer going to be satisfied with touching her by accident.

***

The conversation with Damián came about by itself. That night I found him looking at photos of Lorena on the beach on his phone. He wasn’t alone. Four regulars were crowded around the table, commenting in low voices, with that filthy, heated tone men use when they think the woman they’re talking about can’t hear them.

In one of the photos she was wearing a wet T-shirt plastered to her body. In another, she was lying in the sun, showing half a tit. Damián smiled like a man displaying an expensive bottle.

“You like people looking at her,” I said when the others moved away.

He didn’t deny it.

“It gets me hard,” he replied. “Watching them go crazy wanting to touch what only I fuck.”

That explained a lot. The photos. The comments he himself encouraged. The way he sat drinking while she cleared tables with us still inside the bar. He wasn’t an unsuspecting cuckold. He was the kind of voyeur who got off on lending out the image of his woman, as long as control still seemed to be his.

“Well, your girlfriend doesn’t just let herself be watched,” I told him. “She knows perfectly well what she provokes.”

Damián studied me in silence and smiled slowly.

“That gets me hard too.”

From there, the idea formed on its own. It started as a stupid bet. Whether she could show her tits in the half-light. Just for a moment. Maybe blindfolded so she wouldn’t feel embarrassed. I thought it would remain a quick exhibition for a few horny men. But the night took us further.

When I went into the storeroom to warn her, Lorena was already taking off her shirt.

“Your boyfriend has organized some nonsense out there,” I told her.

She didn’t even flinch. She stood there in her bra, crossed her arms beneath her tits to lift them, and looked at me as if she’d been waiting for me.

“I know,” she replied. “He told me. I also know it won’t be just you and him.”

That left me stunned.

“And you’re still going out there?”

“If I go out, it’s because I want to. Not because they tricked me.”

She came closer until she was pressed against me. Her tits brushed my chest. She slipped a hand between us and grabbed my cock through my trousers, squeezing exactly where my erection hurt most.

“But first I want to know something,” she whispered. “Are you going to keep looking at me like a starving man, or are you finally going to touch me for real?”

I answered by kissing her. She opened her mouth at once, hot and direct, biting my lip while she stroked my cock. I slipped one hand around her back, went down to her ass, and squeezed it hard. With the other, I grabbed one breast over her bra, heavy and firm, and pinched her nipple until she moaned against my tongue.

“That’s it, you bastard,” she murmured. “About fucking time.”

I pushed her against the storeroom wall and pulled down her trousers along with her panties. Her pussy gleamed wet beneath the room’s yellow light. She spread her legs without my having to ask. I drove in two fingers and they slipped in at once, sliding easily.

Lorena threw her head back and brought one hand to her mouth to stifle her moan. I opened her wider with my fingers, pushing in and out while rubbing her clitoris with my thumb. Her breathing grew hoarse and broken. She grabbed my wrist and began fucking herself on my hand, setting the pace with her hips.

“Suck me,” she asked. “I want to go out there already horny.”

I dropped to my knees without needing to be asked twice. I lifted one of her legs over my shoulder and spread her pussy with my fingers to look at it before eating her. She was soaked. I ran my tongue from bottom to top, slowly, feeling her whole body shudder. Then I really went at it: a hard tongue on her clitoris, wet sucks, quick little movements until she began panting and her thigh started to tremble.

“Don’t stop... don’t stop, fuck...”

I slid two fingers inside her again while licking her clitoris without giving her a break. She came with a violent spasm, squeezing my face between her thighs. I felt her wetness run down my chin as she arched against the wall and moaned into her hand so they wouldn’t hear her outside.

When she had calmed down a little, she tugged my hair to make me stand.

“Now I want your cock.”

I unbuttoned my trousers and pulled it out. She looked at it with a filthy smile and grabbed it confidently. She knelt where I had been and took it into her mouth in one go, without fear, until I let out a growl. She had a brutal way of sucking: firm tongue, tight lips, one hand working the base and the other moving her tits aside so I would watch them bounce with every movement of her head.

She sucked me hungrily, spitting onto the tip before taking it back into her mouth. She pulled off until only the wet head remained, then sank it inside again, looking up at me with shining eyes. I grabbed her hair in an improvised ponytail and began setting the pace. She didn’t protest. On the contrary, she opened her throat wider and let me push it all the way in, choking a little, saliva running from the corner of her mouth.

“You give a hell of a blowjob,” I told her, panting.

She pulled off just enough to answer.

“And you still haven’t seen how I fuck.”

I hauled her to her feet, turned her around, and bent her over some boxes. I moved her thong aside completely and drove my cock into her with one thrust. It went all the way in, wet and still tight from her recent orgasm. Lorena let out a deep moan and dug her nails into the cardboard.

“Fuck... yes... like that...”

I started slowly for only the first two thrusts. After that I couldn’t hold back. I fucked her hard, gripping her hip with one hand and grabbing one of her tits over the bra with the other, feeling its weight bounce in my palm as I drove into her again and again. The wet sound of penetration filled the little room. She pushed her ass back to take me better, and every so often she turned her head to look at me over her shoulder, sweaty, flushed, wildly aroused.

“Harder,” she asked. “I want to walk out with my legs shaking.”

I gave it to her. I pounded her until the boxes creaked, until her pussy began squeezing me in disordered pulses. I slipped a hand between her thighs and rubbed her clitoris while I kept fucking her, and she came again, calling my name through clenched teeth.

I didn’t come because they were still waiting outside. I pulled out when I was already at the limit and watched her turn around, cheeks flushed and mouth open.

“Don’t finish yet,” she said. “I want them to see me first. I want to go out there knowing you’ve just fucked me.”

***

We blindfolded her for pure theater. The shutter was almost closed and the main lights were off. We left only the dim streetlight filtering through the gap and a couple of small flashlights in the hands of the four men who had paid for the round in exchange for the show.

Damián was genuinely aroused. You could hear it in his breathing. So was I. My cock was still hard inside my trousers, still wet with Lorena’s pussy and mouth.

She came slowly out of the storeroom with the blindfold on, guided by her boyfriend, but when she passed close to me she deliberately brushed his hand against mine. A tiny gesture to remind me that none of this was happening behind her back. She knew perfectly well how much power she had.

Damián whispered something in her ear. Lorena caressed her tits over her shirt, squeezing them with both hands. In the half-light, restrained breaths and the scrape of a chair could be heard. One of the men was rearranging his cock inside his trousers like an impatient animal.

She slowly lifted her shirt and took it off. Beneath it she wore a thin bra, almost transparent in that trembling beam of light. Her nipples showed clearly. Then she unclasped it and let the straps fall from her shoulders.

Her tits fell free, and all four men went silent.

Lorena held them for a moment, lifted them, let them hang, caressed her nipples, and hardened them between her fingers. Damián watched, fascinated. I watched from even closer, knowing how her skin felt in my mouth and how tightly her pussy squeezed inside.

One of the peeping toms couldn’t hold back and let out an obscene gasp. She smiled, even though her eyes were covered.

“Don’t play the saints,” she said. “I know you’re all hotter than the kitchen grill.”

There was a nervous laugh. The blindfold was pointless by then. Lorena knew how many men were there, and still she continued. She put her hands on her waist, slowly lowered her trousers, and stood before them in her panties. I watched one of them pull his cock straight out through his fly and start jerking off without bothering to hide it.

“If we’re going to do this,” she said, “we’re going to do it properly.”

She searched for me blindly, but found me more easily than any of them. I grabbed her wrist. She smiled straight at me, even though she couldn’t see me, and said:

“You. Come here.”

I kissed her again in the middle of that group of voyeurs. Damián didn’t intervene. On the contrary, he came up behind her and grabbed her tits while I pushed my tongue into her mouth until she moaned. The others devoured her with their eyes. Two of them were already openly masturbating.

I yanked her panties down. Damián spread her legs from behind, and I knelt in front of her, right there in the middle of the bar, to eat her pussy again under everyone’s gaze. Lorena rested her hands on my head and let me do it while her boyfriend fondled her breasts and sucked her neck.

The place smelled of alcohol, sweat, and freshly ignited sex.

I licked her slowly at first, exaggerating every stroke because I knew I wasn’t only arousing her but feeding the spectacle for the others. I looked up and saw one of the voyeurs jerking off so hard his whole body moved. Another had his mouth hanging open as he watched my tongue sink between Lorena’s swollen lips.

“Watch her closely,” Damián said in a broken voice. “Watch her come.”

That excited her even more. Lorena grabbed me hard by the hair and began fucking my mouth, rubbing her pussy against my face while moaning without any desire left to hide herself. When I insistently licked her clitoris, she came in full view of everyone, her legs trembling as she let out a clear, shameless cry.

She remained panting for barely a few seconds.

Then she made me stand and ordered me:

“Fuck me here.”

I didn’t need to ask permission. Damián bent her over a nearby table, sweeping aside glasses and ashtrays. I pulled my trousers down to my knees and drove my cock into her with a hard thrust. The four voyeurs crowded around without touching, but so close I could hear them jerking off, their breathing, their filthy murmurs.

Lorena’s tits swung over the wood every time I thrust into her. Damián stood in front of her so she could suck them while I penetrated her. She caught one nipple in her mouth and gently bit it, moaning around it. He slipped two fingers between her lips so she could suck them too, and Lorena obeyed with a dazed look of pure arousal.

I fucked her hard, with no room left for pretending. Every thrust sounded wet. I grabbed her hair from behind and tugged a little to arch her back farther. Her ass struck my pelvis in an increasingly savage rhythm.

“That’s how I like it,” she growled. “Let them watch while you wreck my pussy.”

One of the men came into his own hand and cursed under his breath. Another kept masturbating without taking his eyes off the penetration. It had gone beyond simple voyeurism, becoming a raw ceremony in which everyone took part from his side of the boundary.

Damián looked at me and pointed toward Lorena’s mouth. I understood instantly. I pulled my cock out of her pussy and we turned her between us. He grabbed her jaw, and I put my cock into her mouth, still glistening with her own wetness. Lorena accepted it at once, swallowing deeply while touching her clitoris with two fingers.

Her mouth filled, lips stretched around the shaft, saliva running down her chin. Damián rubbed her tits and pinched her nipples while I pushed my cock slowly in and out, watching her swallow me. The voyeurs were hypnotized.

“What a good slut you are,” her boyfriend whispered in her ear.

She let out a muffled moan with my cock inside and grabbed my ass to pull me closer.

I pulled out just before coming and put her back on the table, this time on her back. I lifted one leg and penetrated her again, opening her wider. Damián positioned himself in front of her so she could keep sucking him now. Lorena was split between us: my cock entering and leaving her pussy from behind, his sliding between her lips in front.

The four men could only watch and come. And that’s what they did. One after another, they masturbated a few steps away, shooting onto napkins, the floor, or their own hands while watching the woman in the show let herself be used and enjoy every second.

Lorena came a third time, squeezing me with brutal force. Her pussy milked me until I lost control. I pulled out just in time to come over her ass and lower back, covering her with a thick load that drew another moan from her. Damián didn’t last much longer: he came over her tongue and chest, and she took all of it with her mouth open, panting and satisfied.

For a few seconds nobody spoke. The only sounds were the breathing of six exhausted men and hers, still ragged, half-reclining on the table with limp legs.

Finally, Lorena sat up. She removed the blindfold and looked at the four voyeurs one by one. She didn’t look embarrassed. She looked like the owner of the night.

“You’ve seen enough for today,” she said with a crooked smile. “Next time, you pay more.”

She gathered up her hair, found her clothes without hurrying, and turned toward me while the others began filing out silently, empty and happy as idiots. Damián was exultant, but she held my gaze.

“We have to open first thing tomorrow,” she said. “I hope you’re not too tired to work pressed up so close to me.”

I looked at her tits still marked by hands, her wet mouth, the drops of semen drying on her skin, and knew the real problem wouldn’t be opening the bar.

It would be making it through another entire day without locking her in the storeroom again and fucking her until she screamed against the wall.