A Dinner Out, part III
As I slipped under the table, the buzzing grew louder.
With the white linen tent surrounding me, I found myself focusing in on the noises punctuating the restaurant: the clinking glasses, the muffled polite chatter, the patter of the servers’ feet. The smells of seared meat and aromatic wines drifted in the breeze that ruffled the skirt of the tablecloth. I could’ve stayed there for some length of time, but the quick pulse of the vibrator on my clit reminded me that he was waiting.
I ran my hands up his pant legs, and to my surprise, he was trembling as well. I suppose I wasn’t the only one nervous about this public endeavor. As my hands neared his groin, the firm lump standing at attention let me know that he was excited as well. A quick slip of his zipper unleased his cock, and I took him into my mouth. His entire body relaxed as I swirled my tongue around his shaft, and I heard him internalize a moan as I flicked the tip of my tongue around the head of his penis.
I heard the waiter ask for a dessert order, and I took this opportunity to turn the tables: he struggled to pass on dessert as I pumped him underneath the table. I felt him tense up on my tongue, and I knew that he was soon going to explode. I drew small circles on his testicles with my fingernails, and then slightly tugged, and on cue, I felt him release in my mouth. I took him all in, swallowing hungrily, and I heard him sigh loudly.
I grabbed the napkin and resurfaced. He had taken care of the bill; he was just waiting patiently for my return. He took my hand and kissed it lightly on the palm and met my eyes with his gaze. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You made my night amazing.”
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