So finally we meet. God, you are even more radiant and exuding that perfume that I only have heard about so far. Your Irish eyes crinkle and sparkle with mischief as you smile at me, taking in my gauche nervousness.
“Nervous, boy?” you ask me teasingly.
I try and laugh it off, blushing furiously.
But you are so unlike the vision I have gotten used to. You are wearing a severe ivory top, with not even a hint of a cleavage, but it’s tight, and I can see your breasts encased in them perfectly. While drinking, your wrap falls a bit, revealing flawlessly creamy and smoooth bare arms that had been hidden so far.
You laugh out loud as I gasp. “Wait,” you whisper, “till you see the rest”. And then you pause. “I just got waxed too,” you whisper meaningfully, “all over”. And as if to give me a glimpse of the scented smoothness to expect later, you throw back your arms as if stretching casually. Your underarms are smmmmooth, creamy, and, you tilt your head towards your left, as if breathing in your sensuous aroma, “So spicily scented too…”
I am throbbing wildly. You can’t see me, as I am thankfully covered by the table, but you can perhaps tell the effect you have on me. “Mmm,” you laugh, “And as you well know, I perfume myself ALL over… ”
I am openly gasping. “Hard, is it?” you laugh, throwing back your hair.
I am a scarlet shade of red. So loving this agony and ecstacy. I blush. And you innocently stretch back, your hands in your hair, your glisteningly creamy and scented inner arms almost framing your face, as your breasts thrust forward provocatively.
Before I can recover, you bring your arms to the table, but suddenly I find your bare foot against my shin, climbing up. I am all aquiver, a bit ticklish, but more than that, so aroused, while you seem calm, casual, non-chalant even as you look up at me, smiling innocently, first, and then a mischievous twinkle appears in your sparkling eyes, while your foot makes its way up north…
“Hmmm, yes, hard,” you laugh.
I am blushing, while you’ve picked up the bottle of wine itself, leaving your glass, and raise it to your lips, your mouth playing with its top, your lips enclosed all around its rim as your mouth, your tongue, your lips suggestively play with it… making me throb wildly, as I realise that it’s not just one foot but both your feet are now in my lap, and the toes have my manhood between them, softly, teasingly rubbing against it through my tight, bulging jeans, and all this while you lean comfortably back, your tight heaving breasts distracting me like mad, making me wonder if I am imagining it or do I actually sense your nipples harden under your top…?
I am loving it, but am so afraid that you might make me cumm right there, and I manage to say, “Mmmm, ummmm, please, please stop …”
“Stop? Hmmm, make up your mind, if I stop now, you may live to regret it…,” your voice trails off… And then you continue, “For I may not only not touch you but may not even let you touch me,” and here you pause dramatically, as if thinking, “or even yourself — yeah, I may not even let you touch yourself by tying you down and sitting in front of you, stripping, teasing my nipples, and even my clit, and then my pussy, making myself cummm,” you say with a flick of your hair. “With these fingers,” you say, as you casually, but sensuously, take the forefinger of your right hand into your mouth…
Your words and actions have me aroused and hard and thick and throbbing as never before. I so love this aspect of you, of your total control over me, as if…and I am so afraid that the women at the table next to ours can perhaps even hear, as I see one of them glance meaningfully in our direction, and as she leans down to pick something up from the floor, I am afraid that she might be able to see the action under the table…Or hear my almost audible moans as the visual and sensory effect of your touch and your manicured, painted fingers in your luscious lips has me almost in the throes of ultimate sexual ecstacy…
And as I watch in sheer stupefied fascination, riveted, you take out the finger from your mouth, and having caught me glance down the cleavage of the woman at the next table, as she had bent down, you ask, casually, “Ah, so it is the breasts that so captivate you so, do they?” I almost gasp out loud as you casually, while talking to me, tell me to watch, and take your wet and glistening finger around your heaving left breast, almost circling the aureole, and then the nipple, making it harden and protrude out through your tight top, and smilingly you ask me, “Mmmm, like it, baby?”
Baby?! I so resent being treated like this, but yet it is so arousing… “So ready to lose your virginity tonight?” you tease. To have me tie you down to the bedpost, straddle you with my toned thighs, first my pussy over your mouth and then fucking your hard, horny cock…I may even let you lick my scented smooth shaven armpits you say…
I blush red. I so hate myself for having told you all my secrets, and you seem to be capitalising on those. “Oh, I know what turns you on,” you say. “Imagine me straddling you, my arms raised to take off my bra, and as you know, I am shaved and scented as always, my pendant dangling between my breasts…” you say, as you causally reach inside the top of your top and take out the pendant, casually…”Ah, I remember, so would you like to have my lipstick marks on your white shirt, over your nipples, and then later over your…. (you pause theatically) hard cock?” you ask. At this point, you have taken out a lipstick from your bag, and taking out a small compact, you begin applying that red scarlet colour on your luscious lips, as you smack them… “But wait, what’s the point, do you think that lipstick mark would stay there for long? What’s the point, for I am going to have that cock inside my mouth and then I am gonna fuck it all the way in with my pussy…” you tease. “Would you like that or would you be content just to have my lipstick marks on your cock? You decide.”
This is like a dream for me. “Do you really wanna know what I am wearing under these clothes?” You laugh. “It sorta goes well with the lipstick.”
Your shocking words have me moaning…And since your purse is open, you suddenly seem to find something and taking it out smile. I gasp as I notice it is a black ipod video. I wonder what you are going to do – listen to music? But you just smile and looking at me, ask me if I want to see what you are wearing under your dress? I am intrigued, wondering what you might be playing at. “Oh, I just recorded myself while I was dressing upstairs in the hotel room, and here’s the video if you want to see…”
But before you can pass me the ipod, I notice that the same finger which was hitherto in your mouth, and then circling your breasts is now suddenly dipped in your wine glass, as you stir it casually, and then taking it out, as I watch riveted, I find it slipping under the table, and you shift a little, almost squirming in your seat, bend down and suddenly slip a wispy black brief shiny and lacy piece of damp fabric in my opened palm. I gasp. Realising that you have slipped off your panties in in that open public restaurant, and the ladies at the table next to us know. You laugh. The skimpily dressed ladies at the next table are now watching openly, blatantly. Your finger again goes to stir your wine glass and then slips underneath the table, and comes up. Again, in full public gaze, you extend it towards my dry lips, slipping it inside my lips. It is so filled with your sexy aroma, and this is my first scent and taste of a woman. I am awkward, blushing and yet exquisitely aroused at this public foreplay.
“That was just a sampler,” you say. “If you want a fuller taste, you better slip under the table now,” as your hands caress my cheeks, my chin and tousle my hair.
I look up at you, hesitant, shy, blushing, aroused, so wanting to do anything to please you. But you just smile. “If you don’t, do you know what’s in store for you?”
You open your purse and show me a pair of handcuffs and a long vibrator. “I have got this to please myself with, remember? Or else it could be your virgin cock in my wet, willing pussy…and if you please me now,” you say, “I will make all your fantasies come true…”
But you do know, don’t you, that my fantasy is to please you? I want to ask. “Don’t think I have forgotten any one of them,” you laugh. “Right from teasing your nipples with my nails,” you say as your hands slide down my chest, lingering on my nipples, in full public gaze of those women at the next table who are now watching blatantly, openly, with undisguised interest, “to kissing you through your shirt, leaving my lipstick marks on your crisp white shirt,” and at this point you lean forward, giving me an incredible view down the scented valley between your breasts, your lips puckering, almost poised over my chest, to the accompanying gasps from me and the ladies at the next table, as your fingers circle my nipples through my shirt, making them hard, making me moan out loud, as you say, “and now imagine them under my lips, in my teeth…”
At this point, you pause, stop speaking, and casually pick up a strawberry from the bowl, dip it in champagne and taking your own time, knowing I am watching riveted, as if in a trance, lick it suggestively, and then bring it down on the bowl of fresh cream, dip it in that, smothering its tip with thick cream, and smile. “What does this conjure up the image of?” you ask, as you proceed to sensuously lick the cream, the strawberry between your teeth, as you bite hard, its juices dribbling down the edge of your luscious lips, which you wipe off with the back of your hand and then proffer that hand to me. To collective gasps and oohs from the table next to us, I find myself licking it reverentially, as if this were manna from heaven. And it sure does taste like that…I am not entirely oblivious to the fact that we are in full public gaze in this classy restaurant and the scantily clad ladies at the next table in particular are making no secret of the fact that they are watching us blatantly now.
You wink at them, smile and then say, “Don’t worry about them, love” I am puzzled. Oh, those are just some of my friends. And I wanted to show you off to them and how I could make you do almost anything to please me,” you tell me innocently, as if discussing the weather. Like sucking this strawberry out of me…” your voice trails off, as I wonder what you mean. You pick up the strawberry, and I gasp as I notice your hands slide down under the table and I find you adjusting and fidgeting and almost gasping and moaning yourself, when I realise that you have pushed the strawberry between your legs perhaps… and you ruffle my hair and tell me, “Now is the time for me to collect from my friends, boy, just get down under the table and you have a treat waiting for you not just now but later too…It’s fresh and juicy,” you say, as you look towards your friends triumphantly and tell them, “Now girls, what do you want him to do?”