Buttslut (male on futa)

The pounding beat of the bass reverberated through the club to the delight of few. The night was winding down and the number of people dwindled. Most people probably had their fun by now, or found someone to have some more fun within a more private setting. Given how little business occurred at times like this, I always figured that the employees had that last hour and a half just out of pity for those the fun had left behind.

I took a sip of my shot of whiskey. Taking it in one shot was a waste when you're not having that much fun. Last few months had been particularly stressful for various reasons, as well as being a dry spell romantically. A wild and commitment-free one-night stand was just what the proverbial doctors, my friends, prescribed.

But tonight had been a complete wash-out, conversations that went nowhere, other people swooping in on the girls I eyed and I was cursed with a near-complete inability to dance. Even the bartender had abandoned me unless I yelled for attention, probably saw the sad sack that I was and decided he didn't want to hear me bitching.

A few stools down from me, a girl with dyed dark green hair, a thin leather jacket, and tight pants was chatting with the bartender, a bold and flirtatious grin on her face. By the way, her hands were motioning, pistoning an index finger through a circle with her other hand's fingers, her intentions were crystal clear. Her head bobbed toward the bathrooms, but the bartender shook his head and went back to washing glasses.

The woman slammed her hands on the bar, causing a rattling of the nearby glasses to get the bartender's attention again. Even from the other side of the bar, I could tell that her fluttering eyelashes were a desperate last gasp. When he returned to washing the glasses after muttering something to her, she gave up. She almost collapsed upon the bar, at a complete loss.

I sighed and rolled my eyes at her sad display. "At least I'm not that desperate." I took another sip of my whiskey and returned to dejectedly staring through the glass.

"Ah!" The woman said from down at the bar, apparently hearing my comment. With surprisingly alacrity and speed for someone up at 2AM drinking in a club, she seemed to fly across the bar stools and sat next to me. "You here with anyone?"

"It's 2AM, the club closes in an hour and a half and I'm nursing a shot, so clearly fuck no."

Without hesitation, she slid closer to me, rubbing a shoulder against mine. "I take it you saw me flirting with the bartender?"

Although I did it with far less enthusiasm than she did, I mimicked her earlier pounding a hole hand motion. I can't say that I didn't want the same thing, but there was still a certain shame in going with the girl that apparently been striking out as bad as I am. It's not that she wasn't attractive with her almost punk aesthetic and slim build, but I was pretty resigned to just having this night be a complete waste. Best way to thoroughly and properly waste a night is to get wasted alone.

A normal girl might have blushed or been embarrassed at being seen doing such a vulgar gesture, but this girl didn't know the meaning of shame. "I bet you're here for the same reason." She motioned down toward her lap with a nodding of her head. "Gonna make this super simple for ya. Take a look."

When I looked down at her lap, she had unbuttoned and unzipped her tight pants with a deft hand. Said hand sunk underneath her pants and black thing to pull out a thick sausage. The flaccid cock she had in her hands must have been two inches thick and five inches long with no stimulation at all.

"Yeah," she said teasingly as she flopped her cock up and down on her thigh. "I bet you're just dying for a piece of meat, and I've got the tastiest hole...POLE in the whole club." Like when she was talki

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