I recognised the trio as three of the biggest whingers. The bottle blonde was Pauline the puker, I knew her voice well. None of them would meet my eyes.I left and headed to the bar. I ordered two more bottles of their cheap plonk. I was fuming mad at the insensitive women. Someone rubbed my arse, and I turned to find a guy whose eyes were at my tit level. He licked his lips and finally thought to look up to my face. “Any chance you want to fuck?” he said and dropped his eyes to my tits again.“I’ll fuck your face with my fist if you don’t stop talking to my boobs,” I growled at him. He wasn’t that bad looking, but he was older and a lot shorter than what I went for.He looked up at me in surprise, “The blonde told me you’d fuck anyone.” “Which blonde?” I asked with menace.He looked over at the table with the trio sitting at it; they were giggling and looking at me. I noticed that none of the blokes were at their table and couldn’t blame them. I grabbed his face and kissed him. I think. I wasn’t sure if he was gay, or if I was for that matter, but I had a feeling he might be. The hugs goodbye were warm and comfortable and lasted a maybe little longer than they might with a platonic friends. On a couple of occasions, his hand had wandered a little lower down my back and there seemed to be some intention when it brushed against my butt. The sensation of the touch of his fingertip against the back pocket of my blue jeans had stayed with me long after I’d left that other night. He sat next to me fairly close on the sofa as we watched our sitcom and I looked over at his leg and began to form and idea of what I wanted to do. My heart beat faster through the commercials and segments and then it happened, almost involuntarily. I scooched in a little bit and slid my hand onto his thigh. My fingers felt a little clammy and nervous, but I left them there and he didn’t seem to mind or even acknowledge the move. Another sit-com started and I began to move my hand back and forth,.
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