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Betsy From the Lay-off

Updated: Jan 1

By Frank Weber

Copyright ©2024

I was only twenty or twenty-one years old at the time.

I was working the second shift at the plating shop across the street from my house.

Well, my parent’s house to be exact.

The days were pretty simple back then.

Work 10-12 hours a day, and work double-shifts on Friday night into Saturday.

Work. Sleep. Drink. There wasn’t much else to it.


After about a year of that grind – and completely out of left field – I was told that I was to be laid-off for an “undetermined length of time”. The lay-off was immediate, so there I was at 3:30PM ready to start work and I suddenly found myself with nothing to do and no job.


So what do you do when you’re young, just laid-off and looking for something to do?

That’s right – I headed straight for the bar.


Even though I paid rent to live in my own ‘apartment’ of sorts in their house, my bills were still minimal. I was concerned about potentially losing my steady income, but what could I do? It’s not like I was going to get kicked out in the street. So I was content with wasting away that night at the bar.


I was barely legal age, but I was already a regular at the bar. I remember when I finally did turn 21, Donnie, the owner of the place gave me a birthday card that said, “Congratulations on catching up with your ID” I still have that card.


I was a regular there. It was nothing unusual to sit and pound beers with the other regulars even though they were mostly in their mid-forties or older. They liked me because I was a colorful drunk. I wasn’t particularly troublesome, but I always seemed to leave behind a trail of good stories to tell. Funny that I fit in so well in a bar whose regulars at any given time consisted of lawyers, cops, gangsters, business owners and bikers. I can remember sitting with a couple local gangsters who were sitting next to a couple off-duty cops – each of them giving the other shit!


Those were fun and interesting days…right up until the day that I got laid off.

That day wasn’t such a happy day. I remember that it was a particularly cold day for October and I was wearing my biker leather – my ‘skin’. The bikers never gave me any shit about wearing it, either, even though I didn’t have a bike. I guess my willingness to fight when I had to was enough for them. Like I said, I gave everybody good stories to tell.


I sat there for the next few hours pounding beer after beer, and once all the day-shifters had filled the place, they started buying me shots. By 8:00, I was feeling no pain, no pain.


That’s about the point when a petite and cute, sexy little biker chick walked in the bar.

She had curves the whole length of her body and short, fiery-red hair that was gelled back over her ears.

Her complexion was fair, almost pale, complete with those cute ‘red-haired girls freckles’.

She held a cigarette in one hand and a small leather handbag in the other.

She stopped short of the bar and looked the place over. There were a couple empty bar stools, but she chose the empty one right next to me. She put the cigarette in her lips and set her handbag down on the bar, pushing it close to my beer.


“You mind if I sit here with you?”

She blew her smoke in my face and smiled at me.

“I saw your ‘skin’ as soon as I walked in – I like it!”

I should’ve known right then and there where this was headed…not that I would’ve done anything differently.


“Sure. Knock yourself out. My name’s Frank.”


“Thanks, Hun. I’m Betsy.”


She sat down and swung her seat around and set it so that her leg bumped into mine every time she moved.

“Let’s do a shot.”


I signaled to Donnie and he knew what I wanted without me having to ask.

The shots and beers started to flow. This little chickie could drink.

Donnie winked at me every time he poured another round for us.

Some of the other regulars were watching us, too.

Jimbo stopped me going into the bathroom and asked if that ‘little honey’ was with me.

“It’s starting to look that way, isn’t Jim?”

He laughed and slapped me on the back, and it hit me that right now, she was there with me.

It was pretty obvious she planned on going home with me, too.

Who was I to argue?


When I sat back down, she leaned over and squeezed my thigh and pulled herself into a kiss.

It took me a little by surprise, but I kissed her back without missing a beat.

The regulars stopped watching us. At least for this night, she was with me and they weren’t going to get a chance.


We sat there drinking, and every so often she leaned in and kissed me – sometimes making out with me right there at the bar. We were talking and laughing and we enjoyed each other’s company for several hours.


Before I knew it, Donnie yelled for ‘last call’ We loaded up with a couple beers and shots for each of us and we just kept on partying. It didn’t take too long before we were dry again, but now we couldn’t get anymore booze.


“What should we do now?”


She smiled at me through her drunken, hazy glare and said, “Let’s go to your place. We can’t go to mine. C’mon. Let’s go.”


At that moment I felt myself sober-up a bit and get somber. I had to tell her that I lived at home.


She kissed me and said, “I don’t care about that. Can we still be alone and private?”


“Oh yeah. No one’ll bother us at all. It’s like an apartment. We’ll be all by ourselves.”


She drunkenly nodded her approval, and gave me an inquisitive look.


“How old are you, Hun?”


“I’m twenty.”


“That’s SO cool. I’m safe…you’re legal!” And she laughed even though she wasn’t making a joke.


“Can you guess how old I am? Go on and guess. I promise I won’t get mad.”


I thought about it for a minute and stammered out, “HHHmmmmm…I would say late twenties, maybe?”


She laughed even harder. “You’re sweet! I’m forty-five….is that too old for you?”


I didn’t answer her and instead I grabbed her by the shoulder of her ‘skin’ and pulled her close to me and kissed her deep in her mouth.


“I guess that’s not a problem for you. Let’s go. I am horny as fuck!”


And just like that, we were in her old beaten-up, dark blue Chevy Nova on our way to my house.


She wasn’t joking around, either…this little fireball was poppin’ off and horned-up to the hilt!

It was that night that I learned the true meaning of the word insatiable.

And she was good, too. She taught me a few things, that’s for damn sure.


She pulled off all of her clothes and then forced me out of mine. She liked a little rough play in the mix. She reached down and grabbed ahold of my cock and stroked me hard, back-and-forth, pulling my whole body with her hand.


“I don’t want no fuckin’ rubbers, ya hear me? They get in my way. I don’t want nuthin’ between this (looking down) and me!”

I was in no state of mind to argue. I was in her hands, and I didn’t care.


She turned around and bent forward over the edge of my bed.

She wiggled her ass at me and spread her legs as she squeezed her ass cheeks.

She looked back over her shoulder at me and said, “Fuck me and fuck me hard!”


I grabbed her hips in my hands and she clamped her hands over mine and I thrust fully inside her on the first stroke. She moaned and ground her ass against me as I fucked her.

My God, was she good!

When I started to cum, she pulled away from me, spun around, dropped to her knees and sucked on me, but she looked disappointed. She didn’t move fast enough. I came too much inside her before she could pull off of me. She didn’t get enough in her mouth.

She wanted to eat me. She wanted to swallow me.

She loved to fuck, but cum is what she really wanted from me. That was her kink.


I was a young man and I had been drinking whisky all night, so I was still hard as granite.

I get a reverse whisky dick – it won’t go down until I pass out. That made her happy.


She pushed me down on the bed and laid herself down with her tits pressing on my legs.

She propped herself up with her hands on my hips and she took me full into her mouth.

It was an amazing experience!

She sucked me and she licked me and she even gnawed on me.

She sucked on my balls and squeezed them hard.

She laughed and she giggled and she greedily slurped my cock into her mouth.


With my whisky dick, it was hard for me to cum, and she actually had to take a break.

She laid her head on my leg next to my cock.

“You weren’t kiddin’, were you! Are you getting’ close yet? I want some!”


I didn’t answer. I reached down, pushed her head back down with one hand, and I fed her my cock with the other. She let out such a moan of pleasure-release.

I pushed her head up and down and she loved it every bit of it.

This biker chick was unbelievable!

I finally felt myself getting close and I began to moan. That made her suck on me even harder and when I filled her mouth, I could swear she came with me. She was writhing and moaning and fingering herself, but she never once let my cock out of her mouth until she got it all out of me.

Then she collapsed on top of me, licking her lips, totally satisfied and content.


But she was far from down. And she wanted more.


She propped her head up on her hand and said, “Light me a smoke, Hun.”


I lit a cigarette and set it in between her lips.


She reached across me and grabbed the whisky bottle from my nightstand and took a generous gulp. She poured some into my mouth, too.


She dropped the bottle on the floor, crawled up my body and straddled my shoulders. She lowered herself down onto my mouth and quietly moaned, “Now eat my pussy…” as she covered my face.


Everything was dark and muffled underneath her, but she tasted so good. I couldn’t get enough.

I licked and I sucked on her pussy like some starving, wild animal.

She ground down on my face and I sucked her dry – almost dry – ‘cause when she came, she came like an out-of-control, torrential thunderstorm!

I was soaked and I lapped up all from her that I could lick.

She loved it, and she laid down on top of me, her head resting against my cock.

For all we had already done together, she wanted to eat more of me.


She stayed there in that position stroking my cock, licking it, kissing it, her pussy still brushing back and forth against my lips. She almost seemed to be gentle now. But she wasn’t.


She dropped her head down and totally consumed me. The bobbing of her head became more and more violent. I wanted so badly to cum for her, but in all honesty, I was so exhausted I just wanted to sleep. She was getting tired too. Her teeth started scrapping my skin. After what seemed like forever, she finally stopped sucking and got down off of me. She laid down against me and set her chin on my stomach.


She playfully said, “You win. I can’t go anymore. I want more, but you won’t give it to me.”


“How did I win?” I said laughingly. She ignored what I said and got up.


“I gotta get outta here. Light me a cigarette.”


I handed her the cigarette as she haphazardly pulled and struggled to get her clothes on.


“Thanks for the fun, Hun. You’re a good kid.”


She snuffed out her cigarette in the ash tray and said, “Don’t take it too personal, but you won’t see me again.”


With that she left. No hug. No kiss. No other words.

I could hear the old beaten-up, dark blue Chevy Nova revving up outside and I heard it roar off down the street.

And then she was gone.

That’s what I thought, anyway.


The next night, I was back at the bar, and everyone wanted to know what happened. Jimbo asked me if she tasted as good as she looked. We were having a pretty good time.

And then it got to be around 9:00PM.


And there was that petite and cute, sexy little biker chick with the fiery-red hair coming through the door again. And she was looking for me. The guys parted the way and left us alone.

She was all over me from the start. She was vibing a different way on this night, though. She didn’t seem as distant and cold. She almost acted as though she was becoming intimate.


By 10:00PM, we were back at my house fucking like wild animals – I don’t even know how times we fucked or how much she sucked or how much she got to swallow, but by midnight we were back at the bar drinking again.


Jimbo came up and asked me if I ‘went and took care of that little lady’. I just nodded.

She was clinging to me, hanging off my ‘skin’. She licked my neck or my cheek every time she talked. I felt like she was somehow marking me.

She talked to me in whispers so she could get close and lick at my ear when she spoke.

It was a wild night, no doubt.


After a few more shots and beers, she got serious.

She grabbed me by the chin and pulled our faces close together.


“I want your phone number. You’re my new thing. Give it to me.”


And I thought, “Fuck me….here we go again…”

About Frank Weber:  

Frank Weber is a freelance writer from Erie, Pennsylvania. He has been published in several print and digital magazines, local interest books and advertising campaigns as both writer and model. His work encompasses a firm conviction, a simple honesty in written word and enough of a raw edge to make people feel what they read. Website:

Twitter: @frankietatts_

Instagram: @frankietatts

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