Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
The worst part is that I thought I was in control.
He was older—at least ten years on me. Silver at the temples, deep voice, tailored jeans that hugged his thighs like they were made for them. I saw him across the room, bought him a drink, and smirked when he took it with one raised brow.
“You always this forward?” he asked, eyes sweeping down my chest.
“Only when it’s worth it,” I said.
That got a half-smile. I thought I’d won.
But the moment he leaned in close and said, *“Let’s find a seat,”* I felt something shift. Not just dominance—*ownership*. Like I’d already been claimed, and the night was going exactly the way he wanted it.
We sat at a small round table tucked in the corner of the bar. The music thumped, lights low and red. I tried to flirt, to guide the conversation toward sex, toward *me*, but every word out of his mouth curled around me like a leash.
“You’re squirmy,” he murmured, sipping his drink. “Why?”
“I’m not squirmy.”
“You are now.”
His foot nudged mine. Then again. Then up. I froze. I wasn’t wearing anything under my jeans.
He smirked. “Thought so.”
My cock jumped—already half-hard from his voice alone—and now it was pressed right up against the seam of my zipper, twitching.
He didn’t touch me with his hands. Just leaned in close and said, “I bet you’re leaking.”
I swallowed. He nodded to the bartender, ordered another drink for me, and said low under the music, “Don’t fix it. Don’t hide it. Sit there and soak.”
I was already starting to.
My thighs clenched. My cock pulsed. I reached down automatically—but his voice cut in again, lower, firm.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself.”
I froze.
“You’re gonna sit there,” he said, “and let it happen. Let it drip. Let it stain. You’re gonna ruin those jeans for me.”
Every word made me harder.
“I—I can’t,” I whispered.
“You *will*,” he said. “You’re gonna cum sitting right there, untouched, surrounded by strangers. Everyone chatting. Everyone drinking. And you’ll blow your load in silence, like a good boy.”
My mouth went dry. My cock *throbbed*. I felt the wet spot grow, sticky and hot and humiliating.
He leaned back. Sipped his drink. Watched me.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “You like being told what to do?”
I nodded, desperate.
“You like leaking for me?”
I nodded again.
“You gonna cum like a needy little slut without even getting touched?”
I whimpered.
And then it hit—like a wave of heat rolling through my spine. My hips jerked against the chair. My jeans tightened. Cum poured out of me, soaking the front of my pants, a wet patch spreading visibly down my thigh. I bit my lip, trembling, breath short, as the bar swirled around me like nothing was happening.
No one noticed.
Except him.
“Good boy,” he whispered. “You came just from my voice. Didn’t even need to touch you.”
I blinked, still shaking, my soaked jeans clinging to my skin.
“Now,” he said, standing up and tossing cash on the table, “let’s go home and see how many more times I can break you.”
Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you like
Read more of my filthy stories here:Get more from Zayn | Bare on Patreon
The worst part is that I thought I was in control.
He was older—at least ten years on me. Silver at the temples, deep voice, tailored jeans that hugged his thighs like they were made for them. I saw him across the room, bought him a drink, and smirked when he took it with one raised brow.
“You always this forward?” he asked, eyes sweeping down my chest.
“Only when it’s worth it,” I said.
That got a half-smile. I thought I’d won.
But the moment he leaned in close and said, *“Let’s find a seat,”* I felt something shift. Not just dominance—*ownership*. Like I’d already been claimed, and the night was going exactly the way he wanted it.
We sat at a small round table tucked in the corner of the bar. The music thumped, lights low and red. I tried to flirt, to guide the conversation toward sex, toward *me*, but every word out of his mouth curled around me like a leash.
“You’re squirmy,” he murmured, sipping his drink. “Why?”
“I’m not squirmy.”
“You are now.”
His foot nudged mine. Then again. Then up. I froze. I wasn’t wearing anything under my jeans.
He smirked. “Thought so.”
My cock jumped—already half-hard from his voice alone—and now it was pressed right up against the seam of my zipper, twitching.
He didn’t touch me with his hands. Just leaned in close and said, “I bet you’re leaking.”
I swallowed. He nodded to the bartender, ordered another drink for me, and said low under the music, “Don’t fix it. Don’t hide it. Sit there and soak.”
I was already starting to.
My thighs clenched. My cock pulsed. I reached down automatically—but his voice cut in again, lower, firm.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself.”
I froze.
“You’re gonna sit there,” he said, “and let it happen. Let it drip. Let it stain. You’re gonna ruin those jeans for me.”
Every word made me harder.
“I—I can’t,” I whispered.
“You *will*,” he said. “You’re gonna cum sitting right there, untouched, surrounded by strangers. Everyone chatting. Everyone drinking. And you’ll blow your load in silence, like a good boy.”
My mouth went dry. My cock *throbbed*. I felt the wet spot grow, sticky and hot and humiliating.
He leaned back. Sipped his drink. Watched me.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “You like being told what to do?”
I nodded, desperate.
“You like leaking for me?”
I nodded again.
“You gonna cum like a needy little slut without even getting touched?”
I whimpered.
And then it hit—like a wave of heat rolling through my spine. My hips jerked against the chair. My jeans tightened. Cum poured out of me, soaking the front of my pants, a wet patch spreading visibly down my thigh. I bit my lip, trembling, breath short, as the bar swirled around me like nothing was happening.
No one noticed.
Except him.
“Good boy,” he whispered. “You came just from my voice. Didn’t even need to touch you.”
I blinked, still shaking, my soaked jeans clinging to my skin.
“Now,” he said, standing up and tossing cash on the table, “let’s go home and see how many more times I can break you.”
Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback if you like
Read more of my filthy stories here:Get more from Zayn | Bare on Patreon
