One Night At Oswald’s – An Erotic Series

“Oswald’s was a cool little bar hidden away in the basement of one of the oldest buildings in the city…

The vaulted stone ceiling, the rich magenta walls covered in a random mix of vintage gig posters and old pictures of the city. The oak booths, aged from years of use, still line the walls with the mini jukeboxes filled with an eclectic range of music from the 50’s and 60’s.”

In February I wrote an erotic short story called Valentine’s Day, basically it’s a story about a once shy and introverted girl who gets dumped on Valentine’s Day and goes to drown her sorrows in her favourite bar called Oswald’s. While there she bumps into the man who she once loved and had the most amazing, liberating sexual experiences with. They share a drink and she reminisces about the first night she spent with him in this particular bar 6 years ago.

Rereading the story this week got me thinking and I love the idea of a series of slightly interlinking erotic stories all based around this one night in Oswald’s. There are so many different sexy stories that can be told from the points of view of many different characters, the people working at the bar, the members of the band, all the other patrons. So that’s what I’m going to do to. 

Next week I will post the next story in my One Night At Oswald’s series. I will try to get a new story up in the series every two weeks or so. I hope you enjoy it.

If anyone wants to join in and write a story for this series too please feel free, just make sure you send me a link to the story and I’ll share it here.

And here for your viewing again, the first story in this soon to be series.

Valentine’s Day
When Dean sat me down for coffee that afternoon I really didn’t see it coming. He said the usual clichéd stuff I had heard many times before, it’s not you it’s me; we are both in different places in our lives right now, blah blah blah.

“You are dumping me on Valentine’s Day?!” I asked, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

“You said you didn’t care about Valentine’s Day. You said it was just a holiday invented to fill the gap between Christmas and Easter.”
He was right, I had said that. 
I couldn’t stay there anymore, I had to get out. So I stood up and grabbed my bag, took one last look at him and said “That’s not the point. Goodbye Dean”
I don’t even know why I was upset, I didn’t even like him that much. He was too straight laced for me, not adventurous enough in life or in the bedroom. I guess I just got caught up in the fact that for the first time ever, I had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. I don’t even like Valentine’s Day, but hearing all the girls at work telling me how great Dean was and how spoilt I would be, made me get swept up in all the madness.
I needed to get away from all the happy, cutesy couples and love hearts that suddenly seemed to be everywhere; more importantly I needed a drink. So I headed to the one place I knew would not have a single heart or red rose anywhere.
Oswald’s was a cool little bar hidden away in the basement of one of the oldest buildings in the city. I hadn’t been there in years, not since Him, but as I walked down the steps the music of many lifetimes ago pulling me in. 
I entered and I was so glad it hadn’t changed. The vaulted stone ceiling, the rich magenta walls covered in a random mix of vintage gig posters and old pictures of the city. The oak booths, aged from years of use, still line the walls with the mini jukeboxes filled with an eclectic range of music from the 50’s and 60’s. I had spent many a night in one of those booths, it seemed like a lifetime ago. The only thing that had changed was the barman.

I perched myself on a stool at the end of bar and ordered a jack and coke, the stress and pain of the day just slipped away as I took that first sip. I pulled a book out of my bag and settled in.

I had been sat there for about half an hour when the barman placed a drink in front of me, an old fashioned, my favourite drink.

As I opened my mouth to question it he said “the gentleman in the corner sent it over.”

I turned round to see where he was pointing and there HE was. It was like a movie, the lights dimmed, the noise faded away, my world had stopped. It was man that I had once loved, the man I gave my everything to, the man that taught me so much about life, sex and heartbreak.

He had been like a drug to me, all I had cared about at the time was getting my next fix of him. So when he left I was absolutely broken, it took me many years to get over him. We had kept in touch over the years, never seeing each other but swapping the occasional text about how our lives were going and yet here he was, in our bar, sat in our booth, appearing out of the blue in our home town after moving away so many years ago.

I could feel myself get wet at the sight of him, all the memories of our time together flooding back to me. It had been a long time since I was the naive twenty year old girl who worshipped him. I was a women now, a women who knew exactly how to handle him.
He raised his own drink at me as a sign of cheers. I placed my book in my bag, grabbed my drink and sauntered over to join him.

“How’s life, kid?” He said smiling, his voice as velvety as it was back then.
As we made small talk and sipped our drinks, my mind drifted back to the first time he bought me to this bar. 
We had only been sleeping together for a few weeks. Me – the inexperienced shy girl,

Him – a worldly, slightly older man. From the start he was my teacher, pushing my boundaries and taking me to new heights of sexual pleasure, that I never even knew existed. This night was to be the first of many.

He had instructed me to be ready at 8 o’clock sharp, to wear his favourite dress that stopped halfway down my thighs and hugged my curvy figure in all the right places.

When we arrived at the bar, the band near the entrance were just warming up. It was crowded so with his hand placed possessively on my lower back, he led me through the crush at the bar to the booth in the far corner that he had reserved just for us.

He ordered us both an Old Fashioned. As I took my first sip of the rich amber liquid I knew then that no other drink could ever top it, just like no other man could top the one beside me.

As the night wore on, we chatted, we laughed and we kissed, our hands never leaving the other person. One of his arms was around my shoulder and his other hand was caressing the soft flesh of my exposed thigh, making its way ever so slowly under the hem of my dress. 
As his hand slipped under it, I grabbed it, suddenly embarrassed, “We can’t” I said “What if someone sees us?”. With that sly smirk that always made me weak at the knees, he said “relax little one, look around us, no one is watching.”
He was right, no one was watching us; people were too busy chatting to their friends or watching the band. 
I removed my hands from his and placed them on either side of his face bring his lips to mine, giving him permission to continue. Our tongues mingled as his hand moved under my dress, feeling the heat and wetness that was seeping through my knickers. His fingers moved to the waist band of them and gently pulled on them, I raised my arse slightly so he could slide them all the way down my legs then he stuffed them into his jacket pocket.

His hand returned under my dress. He slowly inserted two fingers into my now dripping pussy, his thumb pressed against my clitoris, I nearly orgasmed there and then. He proceeded to fuck me with his fingers while whispering to me how amazing my pussy felt squeezing around them and telling me exactly what he planned to do to me, once we were back at his later.

Here I was, this shy introverted girl, having this incredible man pleasuring me in a crowded bar. I felt so unlike myself, I felt amazingly sexy, that was the power that this man had over me.

I couldn’t contain myself any longer, to stop myself crying out I kissed him, trying to devour him as I came on his fingers, my pussy clenching round him, my body spasmed with each wave of my orgasm.
“Would you like another drink?”

And just like that I was snapped back into the present. 
He was looking at me with that smirk again, I could feel the skin on my breasts and face was flush pink with embarrassment, I think he knew exactly what I had been remembering.

“Sure, I’ll have another drink.”

Suddenly I was very glad I wore a skirt today, this Valentine’s Day was definitely starting to look up.

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About Charlie

On twitter as @CharlieInThe
This entry was posted in Blogging, Erotica and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to One Night At Oswald’s – An Erotic Series

  1. love this … looking forward to the next installment of what she does next BMN x

  2. Malin James says:

    I did miss this, but I’m happy I found it, even if a few days late! I remember that piece from earlier this year. I’m excited to see where you take it in a series 🙂

  3. Pingback: Masturbation Monday #3 | cherrytartblog

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