She stands behind the bar, wine bottle clutched uncertainly in her left hand as her right absently twirls a wine opener. The aftermath of the catering gig is cleaned, inventoried, and put away.

“Planning to open it, or just teasing?” you ask.

“Maybe I'm considering uncorking something rare, but I'm not quite sold on the vintage yet,” she shoots back. “And, for the record, I never tease.”

“You should know, this is a very good year—a hint of complexity, a taste that lingers, and a finish you won’t believe. And it definitely sounds like a tease to me.” She’s a teasing little flirt for sure. You want to taste her, but she’s married, older, and you haven’t quite figured out how.

“Is that so?” She eyes you while she slowly and firmly strokes her hand down, then up, the neck of the bottle, over and over. She threads the helix into the bottle and twists the opener until the cork releases from the bottle’s throat. “You’re a connoisseur, then. Tell me. What else do you know about fine wines, particularly those with a bit more…maturity?”

Maybe this will be easy. This cock says it might.

“I know they should be appreciated, not rushed. You must savor every last drop. Especially those with a more adventurous palate.”

“Adventurous? A quality I admire.” She pours two glasses. Her gaze never leaves yours. “Life’s too short for the same old flavors.”

“Spoken like someone who enjoys a bit of variety.” Twirl the wine in the glass like they do at the events you work.

She dips her nose into the glass. “It’s the spice of life—or so they say.”

“Check out some newer vintages that aren’t the same old, same old.”

“Perhaps,” she says. “But remember, a true connoisseur samples before selecting.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Feel me grow. “It's all about finding that perfect pairing.”

“No such thing. Some are simply better than others. A nice Cab with some dark chocolate when you want something bigger and robust.” She grins. “Maybe a Pinot Gris when you’re thinking about fresh fish tacos.” She winks. “Neither are better. They just go well together when you’re in the mood for them.”

“Your husband.” Leave a pregnant pause. “Does he share your taste for... variety?”

She breathes in a short breath. “He's quite decadent and loves to share new indulgences as much as I do. We have an understanding—an open one.”

“Open?” Let the word hang. You’re getting there. Shift in your seat so this man meat moves from your leg. Let me glide into my naturally erect place, aimed right at your belly button. Scoot your chair back, allowing her the possibility of a view of this eight-incher you want inside her.

She drinks, eyes focused on the bottom of her glass. “Very,” she confirms. “We believe some things are just too damn delicious to be kept to oneself.” She pauses, eyes you up and down, her gaze lingering at the bulge behind your belt. “If I had to guess, he's trying to seduce the babysitter right about now.”

“Wait, what?” Is this permission?

“Well, sure. You think I’m the only one interested in newer vintages? It’s been quite the little project for him.”

“What do you mean?” An actual open marriage? You’ve heard of it. Hell, you’ve seen it acted out online. They’re real?

“They make out, mostly. He fingered her a few times on the ride home. She gave him half a hand job once and watched as he finished. My last catering event, he convinced her to let him go down on her.”

“Your babysitter? You’re okay with this?”

“Well, of course. She’s legal. For her eighteenth birthday, Jack gave her a five-year diary. One of those with the latch and little key. I’m sure she writes about how she can’t wait to babysit and learn new things. It adds a certain zest to life, don't you think?”

“Zest is one word for it,” you half-chuckle. “And what zest are you looking for?” See where you can take this.

“That’s the million-dollar question.” She twirls a strand of hair around a finger. “I enjoy the company of those who can keep up with me—those unafraid to push boundaries.”

“Boundaries, huh? I've been known to cross a few.”

“Have you?” Her eyebrow arches. “What’s the last boundary you crossed?”

“Let’s say it involved a moonlit beach and a bottle of Malbec that definitely didn't have permission to be there.” Well, fuck. Too late for the wine references. And ‘moonlit beach?’ Jesus. Just how basic have you become?

She laughs. “Sounds scandalous. Moonlight and misdemeanors. Interesting. Tell me, what are you looking for? What’s your fantasy?”

“I've always been curious about...surrendering control. There's something about not taking charge that intrigues me.” See if you can get her to believe this. It’s worked before. Show some vulnerability.

“Really? Quite the confession, there. Most men think they need to call the shots.” You most certainly do.

“Hmmm. Not sure I believe that.” Take a drink of wine to hide your smile. “Maybe we’re so tired of making all the decisions we appreciate it when someone else leads us.” Just like you’re leading her.

The wine is drier than you like. It's tight on your cheeks. Cheeks. There’s an idea. Lead the conversation there. “I think it’s hard to find someone who can take control authentically—without making it feel like a game.”

“Ah,” she sighs. “What else? We know what you want to try, but what are you missing?”

Try the old standby. Cheeks, here you come, pun intended. “Honestly? It’s embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than flirting with wine innuendos? Worse than revealing your husband is balls deep in the babysitter?”

“You sure you’re okay with that?” You hope to hell she is, because I'm fucking raging and you can see her nipples peeking through that thin polyester catering shirt she wears, despite the bra that hides those gorgeous tits you try to see every time she bends down.

“Of course, I am. Like I said, we have an agreement. Now, what are you missing?”

Here goes. Get her to give you those cheeks. “How do I put it?” Stand and look around for another bottle of wine. Stretch, arching your back, allowing this girth to be right out there. Be clever. “Girls my age figuratively suck at oral.”

She laughs. “You wanted to say ‘literally,’ didn’t you?”

You have her.

“Well, they literally suck. They’re willing and they try, they just don’t, you know, get me off when they do.” And God how they love to suck, but it’s always sloppy head. You swear they’ve learned to blow watching some porn site and they’re auditioning for their own OnlyFans page. But, for fuck’s sake, can’t someone get the monster I am off with some tonsil action? Maybe someone with a bit more experience.

“I see.” She lets one dimple show. “Look in that box. I think there’s another bottle’s there. Do you mean they don’t do it long enough, or what?”

Open the box. How do you direct this so she’s slobbing your knob soon? “Damned if I know the problem. If I did, I’d sure as hell fix it.”

“Well, first, have her get her mouth nice and wet,” she explains.

No shit. Hawk tuah here. Hawk tuah there. You don’t need spit. Between your pre-cum and all this enthusiasm, there’s no issue.

“You see, it’s all about enthusiasm—genuine enthusiasm. Most treat it like a task, rather than an intimate art. Men are the same way.”  

See. Enthusiasm. You knew she’d say that. And yeah, it’s a task. Going down is a short step to going deep.

Pull a bottle from the box and hand it across the bar. As she takes it, let a finger brush across hers.

“It takes time and teasing. Build the anticipation until it's almost unbearable.”

You’re building it, for sure. God, you can’t wait to cum in this mouth.

“Don’t forget variety. Vary the pressure, the pace, mix in some stroking.” She strokes her hand up and down the bottle, like before. “Predictability is the death of pleasure.”

Nod. “You said you never teased.”

“There’s no teasing. I’m trying to help you.”

“Right.”

“Some women, like me, have no gag reflex, so that helps, too.”

There you have it. No gag reflex? Ready to see if you can’t test that?

Pause between each word. “Not teasing, huh? Sounds intense.”

“Intensity is good, don't you think?” Her glass goes back down on the bar.

Her body is relaxed. You can almost smell the wetness growing between her legs. She wants this, too.

“Is that what you enjoy about sex?” She lets the 's' linger.

“I like discovery, the exploration. Finding what turns someone on, what brings them to the edge.” Fuck. How many times has this worked? Get ready. She’s next.

“Exploration can be... exhilarating.” She steps around the bar, moving into your personal space, close enough you can see the flecks of gold in her irises.

Almost there.

“Especially when you find someone willing to explore with you.”

“Is that an invitation?” Here you fucking go.

“Maybe,” she whispers as she strokes her finger across your cheek.

She’s giving in any second. Stand and step closer, so your bodies almost touch.

“Maybe…I need to be trying something younger, too. Life's too short for regrets.”

“Then why have any?” Although she might regret this. You’re going to fuck her hard and deep for making you wait and work this much. Hell, let her feel in control, riding you as you pump that rod deep in her guts.

“Right here. Right now. You want a blow job that feels like a revelation? You want controlled?” she whispers in your ear.

Fuck yes. Here we go. You need to test that gag reflex.

Sound cocky, but naïve. “I... I wouldn't say no to that.”

“What if I told you I want to blindfold you? Would that intrigue you?”

Well, hell yeah. Let her try her damndest to please you. Make your voice sound curious. “Never tried, that.” A lie.

“It's all about trust. Trusting I’ll make you feel good when you can't even see me.”

You trust you’ll be getting off soon. Draw both syllables out. “Okay.”

“Just okay will never be enough for what I want to do with you. Sit,” she commands.

Now you’ll see what she can do.

She binds your hands behind you with apron strings. Then, she covers and secures your eyes with a black linen napkin from the bar.

Touch this cock.

Her tongue lightly licks your upper lip. A whisper. “Let's explore that intensity.”

You feel her move away. Commanding hands trace between your thighs. Yes. Finally. Tense the muscle to make it pulse. Hands reach your zipper, unfasten the button, pull your girth from your pants.

“Well,” you hear from between your legs. “This is about discovery.”

Nod. Come on, damn it. You want that mouth.

It’s warm as you enter. Rougher than you expected. Movements are expert, confident, and varied — just as promised. One moment everything is gentle and teasing, the next firm and fast. Large hands add to the stimulation as you reach the edge.

Fuck yes!

The technique shifts seamlessly from one to the next: a graze of teeth here, a full thrust to the back of the throat there.

Strain your wrists against the apron strings. Finally. You’re so fucking close, and she fell for it all. Fuck, you’re going to cum deep down this throat. There’s no stopping. Feel that load move from your balls, ready to shoot down this hole.

There’s a sudden light. The linen napkin is removed. “Cum for me,” she says, into your ear, right next to your head, as you make a final thrust into the mouth of her man, throat-deep on your cock.