Molly gave me another passionate kiss onstage, and from the corner of my eye I saw a dozen seated patrons, most of whom I knew by name as regular customers, watching us appreciatively. This was insane, doing this here, in front of so many people that I would be seeing again, day after day. But I was committed now, and I was enthralled by the eroticism of the moment. I wanted them to see everything, to watch me give myself completely to Molly, and the man, and the poet as well.

I broke off the kiss with Molly, allowing her to turn her attention to the poet, who was reaching out for her. I turned instead to the man, Molly's friend (lover?), both my hands touching his hard cock. I heard his whisper, smiled, and kissed him. His lips were firm, his kiss strong, his hands moving around my body, pulling me close. I felt the head of his cock slick with pre-cum. I kissed his neck, down his body, wanting to taste the fluid on my tongue, sinking to my knees on the stage. My hands slipped down his shaft, stroking him, touching his balls, squeezing them gently. My lips touched his cockhead, I tasted his juice. Moving a hand up his shaft, I flicked my tongue on the underside of his head, titillating him, and then I eagerly slipped my mouth over his cock. Glancing over, I saw Molly level with me, the poet sitting on a stool, Molly on her knees between his legs, her hands on his manhood, her tongue exploring his cockhead.

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Thank you, sir, may I have another?