Becoming the King of A New Filthy World

"Could we get some leg spreaders?" she asks, before turning to him and smiling, "Drinks will be on me, I promise. Do you like leg spreaders?" Leaning in closer, she added, "The drink, or the kind of girl."

"Never had the former, but I do like the latter." She's comfortable in how she's talking to a stranger, but that helps him sink into the conversation more easily even if he's filled with questions about who this girl is and where she's come from.

"Then you are going to love me!" Christine laughs, and within a shorter time, than it should reasonably take, the waitress comes back with a tray of a pair of drinks, both of them with a fruity yellow look to them.

They are by every definition a 'girly' drink, but he's never been one to dismiss a drink for that reason.

Cheap beer usually tastes like piss, while the fruity mixed drinks tend to have a whole lot of punch hidden in their tasty exteriors.

He gladly takes the glass and drinks some down, barely able to taste the rum amid the fruity melon and pineapple juice.

"That's not bad," he says. "Thanks. So, what do you do?" It's a bland line of conversation as far as things go, but he could do worse.

"Oh, this and that," she says, brushing it all off quite casually in the way that usually implies someone doesn't have a job.

From there, he sinks into a lengthy bout of getting-to-know-each-other small talk, where he finds out quite a bit about the weird girl he's just met.

The list of cities she claims to live in is as varied as it is weirdly inconsistent, the bands she's seen sound like an incredulous and almost unbelievable list for someone as 'free-spirited' as she seems to be, and to cap it all off she has a liberal arts degree.

Because of course, she has a liberal arts degree.

Everything about her screams that she's the kind of girl who would have a liberal arts degree.

But in turn, she starts wrenching details out of him, going down a lengthy exploration of his whole deal, and through it all, she's eagerly plying him with more drinks, each of them with provocative sounding names like the sex on my face, redheaded slut, angel's tit, and bend over Shirley.

But he drinks them all, of course, as Christine giggles with the ordering of each one.

The alcohol creeps up on him, as it won't do when he drinks lots of fruity drinks, and the sweet girl across from him keeps up her line of questioning. But even as inebriated as he is he's still cognizant enough to be startled when she asks, "So, what do you wish the world would be like?"

"Excuse me?" he ask, startled but a little slurring, head wavering mildly from side to side as he feel himself a little too gone to really think about how to follow that up.

It's a shocking question, one that seems a bit too philosophical and nonsensical for him to really know what to say.

Although it does sound like exactly the kind of question someone with a liberal arts degree would be asking. "I don't really get what--"

"Say you could make yourself king of the universe," she says, throwing her hands out in a grand gesture.

"What would you do? What do you want to make the world into? Come on, it's okay," she leans forward, caressing his cheek. "It can be weird. You've been drinking, so I won't judge." Something about her touch warms him over, makes him shiver and feel comfortable, and content.

It's the strangest feeling but he has to admit, it's a nice one, his eyes sinking slowly shut as he fondly thinks about the warmth washing over him, and he can't help but play along.

"Well..." he swallow, a bit unsure about how to go about this. The words are there, but they seem almost too outrageous to want to say out loud.

"I wish the world was more open about sex. Not just that people weren't... I don't just want attitudes to be more open. I wish I could walk up to someone and just put my dick right in their mouth. That it was completely casual and normal. That while my food was being cooked I could bend my waitress over the table and fuck her. I want to be able to say anything and have them believe it or do it, but act like it's just completely normal. I wouldn't be doing anything outrageous by fucking her, just doing what people do. They'd act totally normal and then go about their days."

Lucas finish, and Christine all giggles. The words seem almost insane now that he has said them, and he can't help but feel like a bit of a weirdo, but at the same time, she doesn't seem to be judging him either.

"I like it," she says, purring lowly. "What a world that would be. I bet in that world, if I slipped under the table right now to suck your cock, it would be completely normal, wouldn't it? Oh, I like the sound of that world so much. Mm, I like you. You're honest and you've got a great idea right there!" She looks around for a moment, then asks, "Do you want to have sex with my face?"

"Sure, I could have another one of those."

"No." She shakes her head, smiling even wider.

"Not another 'sex on my face'. I mean something more than this." Christine slips under the table with very sudden motions and more grace than the kind of girl who's had as much to drink as she has should be able to show off, as she scurries into place and gets to where he is.

Lucas stares down in shock at his lap, as Christine gets into his place and grabs at his pants, pulling them quickly away and getting his cock out, her eyes lighting up with excitement in the process.

"You're huge!" she gasps.

"Wait, this isn't--" The complaint dies in his throat as he realizes that he's about to tell a hot girl not to suck his cock.

It's not the first time he has fooled around semi-publicly, and as Christine stares enthralled at his cock he wonders what part of any of this he could possibly object to.

Instead, he reaches his hands down, grabbing the back of her head and feeling her soft hair as he groans, his head leaning back.

"Know what? Go for it. Make my dream of a world where girls line up to suck my cock come true."

****

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