You meet me at the door, smiling, and invite me in. The door barely closed, our
hello kiss deepens into something more, an appetizer. As I savor the taste of
you, your hands roam my back and your body melts against mine. I can't help it;
I get hard at your merest touch, and the hunger I feel in you tonight makes me
erect in seconds. When you feel it pressing against you, you moan deep in your
throat and pull me hard against you, starting to make fucking motions with your
hips. Your breath is hot against my face. I pull away from you, and you smile,
reaching for my belt and beginning to drop to your knees. I stop you, pulling
you to your feet, seeing the question in your face. "I have a surprise tonight,"
the first words between us, as I turn you and press you forward over the table.
A small "oh!" escapes you, and then a whispered "yes!" as I raise your skirt up
over your hips. The feelings of being in this position, on this table, rise from
your memory. You're surprised at how quickly you're turned on; already, as I
lower your panties, your lips swell and open in invitation. You moan as my
finger brushes your cunt, lightly, testing. An electric current races along your
nerves, making your nipples and your clit tingle. Your cunt is wet, as if
salivating for the taste of me. But the next thing you feel is not the hard,
hot, head of my cock. Whatever it is, it's smooth and cool and it goes in
easily. It slides inside and your lips close over it, holding it in place. It
isn't large, but if you squeeze you can feel it pressing against your pelvic
bone, and you jump slightly when you feel it touch your cervix. Then you realize
that I've already pulled up your panties and lowered your skirt. You let me turn
you to face me, still disoriented and confused. I open your blouse and gently
remove your bra, giving each nipple a brief hello kiss before buttoning you up
again. "Let's go to dinner," I say. You can feel your breasts swaying beneath
your blouse as we walk, a gentle friction of smooth fabric against your skin.
You know that your nipples are erect and plainly visible to anyone who cares to
look. They can't see my 'surprise', but you can feel it moving inside you as we
walk to the car and drive to the restaurant. You don't ask what it is; if had I
intended to tell you, I would have already. We chat about events, politics, the
weather, and how much we've missed each other. By the time we arrive, you've
almost forgotten about it. There's a waiting list at the restaurant so we find a
table in the bar to wait. The drink has an immediate affect on you, giving you a
pleasant buzzing feeling. That brings back some of your arousal, and your hands
wander to my thighs and my chest. The bar is dim; you're not sure they other
patrons can see your nipples poking through your blouse, but you know they can
see your hands. You pull yourself back, but your hands have a mind of their own,
straying time and again. You wonder if they can see the heat between your legs.
We continue to talk, about more intimate things, until our table is called. As
we rise, I put my hand in my pocket. When the hostess turns to greet us, you
begin to feel another soft buzzing sensation -- from your cunt. You pause,
surprised, feeling a tingle begin in your clit and a hot flush rise up your neck
and into your face. You realize that you've held your breath and when you
release it, it comes out as "ah!" You open your eyes to see the hostess looking
closely at you. You know that she can see your hard nipples, the flush in your
face. She knows that you're aroused. Her eyes flick to my crotch, and you
realize that she can see my erection making a bulge in my trousers. But she
pauses barely a heartbeat, then says "Will you come with me?" You smile as you
restrain yourself from replying "Yes, please!" Each glance from a stranger as we
walk through the crowded dining room is like another caress. Hundreds of eyes
rake you, your hard nipples, your hot face, and by the time we reach our table
your heart is pounding and your head feels even lighter. We slide into a booth,
and you barely hear the hostess say, "Enjoy," before she leaves. The smile on
her face, however, sticks to your memory. You can barely read the words on the
menu, much less make sense of the dishes offered. You can force your
concentration on a line of text, but it's only a few seconds before your
attention is drawn to the feel of your blouse rasping across your nipples or the
throb of your pulse in your clit. Every time you think you've willed your heart
to slow down, the softly buzzing thing inside you sends another wave of pleasure
throughout your body. The lightest touch on your arm makes you jump, I've had to
touch you to get your attention. "Shall I order for you?" I ask. I have that
son-of-a-bitch smile that I get when I'm enjoying something far too much. "Mm
hmm," is all you can say; it's almost as if you've forgotten how to speak.
You're sitting in the back of our booth, facing the dining room. Just in front
of us is a table with two men. They're sitting across from each other,
diagonally, so that you can see the farthest one clearly. They're both engaged
in conversation, but every once in a while the blonde one, the one facing you,
will let his eyes rest on you for a moment before turning his attention back to
his dark-haired companion. Your heart jumps the second time, and your nipples
start to ache the third time he turns your way when you realize that he's
watching you carefully. To the left is another table with a man and a woman.
They're sitting on adjacent sides of the table, near each other, both facing us.
They're almost oblivious to everyone around them, though, engaged in intent
conversation, their faces close together, touching each other lightly,
frequently. The waitress arrives to take our order. You wonder if the hostess
has said anything to her, since she seems to give us both a good look before
asking what we'll have for dinner. There is a fresh rush of warmth across your
face as her gaze lingers momentarily on your breasts. I order a seafood salad
for you, crab for myself, and a bottle of wine, and the waitress leaves. I
resume our conversation, telling you about all that's happened since we were
last together, about interviews and projects and a new bookstore I found. You
try to pay attention, and you manage "yes" and "that's good" and "oh?" in the
right places, but it's so hot in here that it's hard to concentrate. In a few
minutes our wine arrives, and you sip generously of the cool liquid. It feels so
good flowing across your tongue and down your throat that your first glass is
gone before you know it. I refill your glass. It's been an hour since we
started, an hour since your heart started pounding like a hammer. The vibrator
sends relentless tingles radiating from your cunt to your nipples, but it isn't
quite enough to bring your senses to the brink of climax. How long can you go on
like this, suspended, neither rising or falling? Suddenly you feel my hand on
your knee, lightly, teasingly. I lean over and whisper in your ear, "He seems to
like what he sees." Your eyes dart to the blonde across the other table, your
breath catches as you see his eyes on you, steady, appraising. He's still
carrying on a conversation with the other man, but he rarely looks away from
you. Is it your imagination, or has he shifted his position, as if to make room
for an erection? Yes, you see him casually reach under the table and adjust
himself; it looks like he's very hard. Almost without thought your hand slides
up my thigh and onto my cock, hot, and very hard. Before you can do more than
touch it, our dinners arrive. You jerk your hand back when the waitress walks up
to our table, but you're sure she saw what you were doing. She lingers, making
sure that our plates are arranged just so, refilling our wine glasses,
memorizing every detail of your flushed face, misty eyes, erect nipples. She
even casts an approving glance at the bulge in my lap. "Enjoy," she says, before
she reluctantly departs. You pick at your food, trying to ignore the tingles
radiating from your cunt, trying to ignore the hot flushes when you see your
admirer watching you. The two men have finished their meal, and the dark-haired
one is leaning back in his chair. They're talking about something, and then the
blonde nods in our direction. The other turns his head casually, and then does a
double-take. He says something like "wow!" to his companion. You look away,
trying to be casual, and you see the couple at the other table. They're watching
you, too, openly and unembarrassed. They're holding hands above the table, but
their other hands are below. You can't quite see what they're doing. The woman
smiles at you, and does something under the table. Her companion's eyes close
and you can almost hear him moan all the way across the room. On its own, your
hand moves back into my lap, and your fingers wrap themselves around my cock.
The woman smiles, then turns to press her lips against her date's ear. Did you
see her tongue dive into his ear for a moment? It's hard to tell from here. You
forget about dinner altogether as I casually reach over and caress your breast.
As I squeeze and pull your nipples through your blouse, the dark-haired man
turns his chair so that he can watch us comfortably. You can see his erection
now, too, and he tries to be subtle as he reaches to adjust it. The woman at the
other table is watching you now, too. The hand above the table is stroking her
man's arm now, caressing it slowly, and you get the idea that she's pretending
it's your breast or my thigh she's stroking. Her other hand is still below the
table. Whatever she's doing, she has her companion's full attention because his
eyes are closed and his face is a little bit red. My fingers on your breasts,
the heat of my cock in your hand, the horny stares of your audience, and the
buzzing sensation from your cunt are beginning to make you more excited than
before. Every tug on your nipple brings you a little closer. You don't want to
come here in the restaurant, in front of these people, but you don't know if you
can stop it now. Dimly you realize that our waitress is back, standing in front
of our table. The guys behind her are craning their necks trying to see around
her. You realize that your hand is still in my lap, stroking my cock as she
watches. She stares first at your hand and the outline of my cock, then at your
breasts and the nipples that I'm pinching between my fingers. Finally, she
stammers, "Would you like to have some dessert?" "Just a moment," I reply. "I
think that Cindy would like to show you something." To you: "What was it you
wanted her to see, dear?" With that, I reach in my pocket again, and the device
inside you suddenly jumps, buzzing so hard that you know the waitress can hear
it. You know she's watching you, but you can't stop your back from arching,
can't stop yourself from gasping air, "Ahhh!" The vibrator is relentless, and
the more you move the more the vibrations seem to spread, which in turn makes
you squirm. In a matter of seconds, you're grinding your hips against the seat,
grunting as you try to rub your cunt against anything, anything at all to bring
yourself over the edge. They're all watching you, but you can't stop yourself.
Finally, you find your breast with your own hand, grabbing and pinching the
stiff nipple, and suddenly an electric current connects your nipple with your
clit and the spark explodes inside you. Your body stiffens, your cunt spasms
around the vibrator, and you let out a long moan before you manage to bite your
lips together. At the unmistakable sound of a woman coming, every head in the
room turns to look at you. You have no idea how long it goes on, but when your
body finally stops twitching and you open your eyes the waitress is still
standing in front of our table. Her hand is lightly stroking her own breast
through her uniform, and when your eyes meet she whispers "Oh, God!" Behind her,
both of the men at the other table have stood up and moved to see past the
waitress; you can see huge bulges in both of their trousers. The woman and her
date are not at their table; you catch a glimpse of them hurrying together in
the direction of the restrooms. "No, I think we'll skip dessert tonight," I say.
The waitress glances at me, then drops her hand quickly to her side. "We'll have
the check now, please," as I hand her a credit card. She nods, and hurries away.
I reach into my pocket again and the buzzing in your cunt drops back to it's
teasing level. By the time she returns your breathing has slowed and you think
you might be able to walk. As I sign the check I notice that she has written
something on my copy. "Kim, 555-2345" I smile as I put it into my pocket.
The End
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