I should be paying attention to my wife, sitting beside me in the restaurant, but she doesn't suck dick like Jessica does. Doesn't let me take her on a twisted, teasing sexual journey where the only goal is pleasure dialled to eleven.

Above the lively conversation from other diners around us, my wife's engaging and funny. Successful, smart, pretty. Those tumbling blonde locks shake as Mitch cracks a lame joke opposite while he pretends not to be checking out her gorgeous tits spilling over the sculpted evening gown. She really is a head-turner.

But still, she's not Jessica. Not even close.

That's why my hand's on Jess' knee. Stroking. Watching her trying not to react when I inch fingers north, to her bare inner thigh. Her eyes widen fractionally and I pause. Relax when I draw outward again.

Bringing my hand back topside, I reach for the wine bucket and offer a refill to my wife, then Jess before passing it on. While Mitch is distracted pouring for Lucy, I casually replace my hand beneath the table and hover it above Jess' leg. Only I hear her hiss as the freezing water droplet lands on her thigh and dribbles inward.

I walk chilled fingertips in its wake. She clamps her legs shut and I wait, safe in the knowledge they'll open again. She knows the consequences. Knows what I'll do to her pretty bottom, each slap stinging, rolling heat through her body to manifest in drizzling wetness in her knickers.

As if reading my thoughts, her legs part and I continue up, grazing inches from her underwear. I can feel her heat. Feel her shivers.

I tease, then pull away, leaving her wanting. Her eyes flick to me, just once and then her fingers are on mine, brazenly pulling them to her knickers, tucking them under, feeding them to her hungry cunt. Fuck, she’s wet; a reaction to our tormenting touches all throughout dinner. Her eyes flick to mine again. Wild. Needy.

I snap. Push up from the table, excusing myself and head for the bathrooms. Experience tells me I won’t wait long and soon enough she’s walking towards me, sumptuous curves tucked into the short dress. Ordinarily I'd take my time to tease her further. Make her wait until she’s half mad with desire.

But not now. Time is against us.

Grabbing her hand I drag her into the empty bathroom. We crash into a cubicle, lips and hands already clutching at energised skin. I swat her behind and she gasps into my kiss, heat spreading as she melts into my embrace.

Slithering my hand up her back, I wrap the dark ponytail in my fist and tug, breaking the kiss. My tongue traces her jaw, working down her exposed neck. Nibbling. Biting. Her sighs inflame my blood.

She slowly lifts her knee, insistently pressing forward as she writhes against me, leg scissoring mine apart so she can rub her thigh against my straining cock. I bite harder, her neck turning pink where my stubble grazes. She fumbles between us, unbuckling me, slipping a hand inside to stroke my hot length.

Gasping at my hardness, her reaction drives me on as I nuzzle and bite her neck and shoulder, tugging back a fraction more on her hair. I adore when she strokes my cock and smears pre-come over the flared tip, surging in her hand as she strokes and teases.

I crush our lips together again, taking her breath away, releasing bunched hair and grabbing her waist, spinning her to face the opposite wall of the cubicle and tilting her torso forward.

Her palms brace as I tug the dress up and the lace panties down. I draw breath at her perfect arse. It's ever so slightly pink, wiggling tantalisingly. I have to spank it, the slap echoing around the bathroom before her cry. Again. And again.

I slide my hand round the curve of her hip and graze her folds. Fuck. So wet. My drenched fingertip draws a line up and down each lip as she bucks against my groin, the steel of my cock rubbing her glorious cleft.

Leaning forward, I rake digits over her proud clit then dive back inside, her body jerking as I whisper, "I'm going to enjoy fucking you, Jess. Right here."

She moans in response, my fingers alternating between thrumming her clit and sawing inside her dripping pussy. My voice is edgy. "Beg for it."

I pull back a tiny bit. Just enough that the lack of touch makes her ache. She twists in my hands, shaking her head. "P-please."

Kissing her earlobe, my hot breath rasps. "I didn’t say ask... I said beg!”

I slap her clit then pull away and she jolts, gritting her teeth. "Jesus. PLEASE, fuck me... god!"

"Better."

I use my free hand to align my prick, roll my hips and glide inside her dripping pussy. She groans as I fill her tunnel.

Slithering my hand up to grab her hair again, I yank back, using it as leverage to pull out and drive back into her drenched cunt as my fingertips grind against her engorged clit.

Jessica's body convulses with each thrust or three-sixty of my wet fingers against her proud jewel. I snarl into her ear as I hammer into her heat. "I want you to soak my cock. Come all over me. Lose control."

She's so sexy owned. Head tipped to the ceiling in my grip, staccato breaths punctuating the stall with every stroke of my fat cock inside her velvety pussy. I pull my fingers from her centre and her eyes snap wide as I thrust. She can't form the words but I know what she wants.

I return to crush the pads of my fingers against her needy clit and draw insistent circles, her body tightening in tune with her elevated breathing. The heat of her pussy is incredible, the rhythmic clack of my belt buckle tapping a beat against her calf as she gasps out how close she is.

When the bathroom door opens we both freeze. I release my grip on her hair and clamp the hand over her mouth instead. Footsteps go past our stall and take one further down the empty row, just as etiquette dictates. Not sure what etiquette would have to say about us.

A throat clears and we both relax imperceptibly; it’s nobody from our party. I stay buried inside her until we hear a flush and I use the noise to whisper teasingly in her ear.

“Think you can come quietly, Jess?”

I keep my hand clamped over her mouth as my fingers move on her clit again, cock still buried deep. The question's mostly rhetorical. In all the times we’ve been together there’s certainly been nothing quiet about her orgasms. They’re usually the throaty moans of a woman who’s not afraid to show me how much she fucking enjoys release.

Her distress is just glorious around my flexing girth. One hand stays braced against the wall as the other tries desperately to pry my fingers away from her sensitive clit, but I’m unrelenting. I circle it slowly as the tap runs, then use the cover of the hand dryer to tease her some more, my words right inside her head.

“Think you can hold out until they’re gone? Or should I just make you come now, and let them hear you? God, Jess, what would they think of you, getting fucked in a bathroom stall like an absolute slut?”

She trembles in my arms, trying desperately not to come. I rub just a tiny bit harder when the hand dryer switches off and footsteps approach our stall again, pushing her to the limits of her control. Her breath snorts hot against the hand I still have clamped over her mouth.

One tiny whimper escapes as the door opens, sounds of the restaurant spilling in momentarily and then the door clicks closed behind our unsuspecting companion and she’s coming. There’s no mistaking her orgasm. Deep rasping breaths, pussy walls rippling and clenching in a sweet ballet around my surging cock, fingernails digging against the wooden wall ahead of her. Jesus, she’s beautiful. I’m hard as sin inside her as she grips me rhythmically, my own climax simmering.

I release her mouth letting her moans echo out around the empty room and hold her tight. As her tremors slow she flings one hand between her legs and grabs me by the wrist, tugging away as the sensation intensifies. I grin into her hair and pull out of her slowly, hard cock smeared with her juices.

I spin her around and press her back against the wall, kissing her hard. When I place my hands on her shoulders and push, she slides obediently down until she’s level with my lewdly bobbing shaft. She doesn’t hesitate. Her eyes flick to mine as she simply engulfs me in her greedy mouth. My eyes nearly cross in pleasure as she laps at me, cleaning me of her own arousal then sucking me in further, further still, until my cock nudges her throat.

Still she doesn’t stop. Watery eyes are wide on mine as she opens for me, her hands reaching around to grip my butt, pulling me into her throat. Fuck. That tight warm sucking wetness around my steel has me surging inside her and my orgasm rises. Shivery heat presages the moment where control evaporates.

When she somehow takes me a little further and swallows around me, I have no choice but to let go. My come wells up, hips twitching and before I can even process the sensations that rack my body, I’m firing jet after jet down her throat.

She pulls off me, both to suck in air and also to catch the final few pulses in her mouth to savour my taste. I brace my hands against the wall as I let her suck me dry, her wet tongue a balm over my sensitive head.

Licking her lips, she grins up at me as I catch my breath. Jesus that girl can suck cock. When I pull her up, I can’t resist pressing her back against the wall one last time and kissing her, savouring both our tastes on her tongue. It’s a potent mix.

As the kiss draws to its conclusion, we step apart and quickly make ourselves presentable, although there’s not much I can do about the stubble marks on her neck or that freshly fucked glint in her glazed eyes. I lean back against the wall, energised as I let her leave first, admiring her swaying arse as she sashays out.

Leaving long enough after Jess' exit not to raise suspicion, I step from the bathroom and return to our table. To our friends. To my wife. Citing an excuse of running into a friend and catching up, I take my seat alongside Jess, our knees brushing. As our eyes fleetingly meet sidelong, her irises sparkle in the restaurant light.

My wife laughs at Lucy putting after-dinner mints behind her glasses and pulling a face. I laugh too. Not just at the absurdity of the act but, I realise as I take in my wife's profile, at the whole situation. How perfect she is. How pretty. How much we've shared. How I can even contemplate risking what we have. How she could go down on me later and taste another woman's juices soaked into my cock.

I both shiver and stir at the thoughts. Panic rises, then fades. She probably won't. Because she's not Jessica.

Not even close.