Going With The Flo - Sex Stories

Going With The Flo

... like they’re lost in a desert and have just seen an oasis, and husbands walking with their wives trying to roll their eyes as far to the side of their heads as they can, and they inevitably start walking like a faltering robot. Normally she loved them, but right now, she didn’t give a fuck. Unless one of them was able and willing to pull out an impressive and already erect penis with which to fuck her within an inch of her life, she wasn’t interested, even if she had been walking past Henry Cavill flexing in a thong.

Actually, that’s a lie. She’d have stopped for that.

When she reached the bar, she barged through the door, ignored the regular at the fruit machine she nearly barrelled to the floor, and walked straight to Jonah who was stood behind the bar talking to an elderly regular.

“I need you to come and fuck me right now.” Stated Flora, commandingly.

The regular at the bar choked on his drink and looked at Flora like she’d just said thousands of man-eating crocodiles were falling from the sky.

“In English, we say ‘hello,’” replied Jonah, wiping up the old gentleman’s spray from the bar top.

“I’ve just had the most unsatisfying customer, I am horny as sin, and you have a good cock. Take me upstairs right now.”

“I’m working, Flo,” replied Jonah, amused, “that’s generally what I’m doing when I’m behind this bar here.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m free,” interjected the old man with a raised finger politely, and hopefully.

“I’m not,” retorted Flora, ...

... tersely.

“How come you’re offering it to him, then,” asked the man, mildly indignantly.

“Because,” Flora began like she was lecturing an idiot for the umpteenth time, slapping her hand on the bar, “he has a cock that would make a blue whale blush, and his tongue can go like the outboard motor of a speedboat. Do you have either of those going for you?”

“Well, well, during, during the war,” the old man began, fumbling his words.

“Absolutely not, just stop.”

“Flo,” said Jonah, in amused exasperation, “I’m not going to have sex with you right now. I finish in four hours, I can come and meet you then.”

“Nope, I need it right now,” stated Flora, “either you fuck me now, or I fuck myself on this bar.”

“You are not doing that, Flo.”

“Captain Grampa thinks it’s a good idea, don’t you?” stated Flora.

“Excellent idea,” exclaimed the elderly gentleman.

“George, be quiet.”

George lowered his head.

“Are you going to fuck me right now?” asked Flora.

“Nope,” stated Jonah, folding his arms.

“Right,” said Flora, resolved. She marched through to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” asked Jonah, deflated.

Flora ignored him and opened the fridge, grabbed the biggest, thickest cucumber she could find, and marched back to the bar, holding up her hand to silence the protests of the chef, wondering who she was and what the fuck was she doing taking produce from his fridge.

She re-emerged at the bar, and George looked like a puppy who had just seen his ...