When the waitress brings the drinks, you use the necessary movements to make your daring move. Your hand slowly lowers to the top of his thigh, sliding a little toward the inner portion. You feel his large muscle twitch as if he hadn’t expected the touch. But he doesn’t do anything that makes you think he wants it removed either. You look across the table at your friend. She’s oblivious, but isn’t she usually?
His thighs part allowing your hand to descend; the material of his jeans is warm, inviting. Your fingernails scratch lightly across the denim. You want so to dive straight to his crotch, but no, he’s got to wait. You flatten your palm and rub. Mmm, so firm. You can feel your loins grow warm as well. You allow your fingers to walk up toward his waist, flatten again and slide over his bulge. He thrusts ever so slightly toward your hand. You smile.
What did your friend say? She’s looking at you as if she’s expecting an answer. You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear. What did you say?”
“I said...” She leans over the table closer. “What are you gonna order?”
You shake your head. Eating is the last thing on your mind, though not necessarily putting something in your mouth. “I might just get a wine, I’m not really hungry. But you go ahead; maybe I’ll nibble at yours.”
She nods and looks back at the menu. You find yourself thankful that the tablecloth hangs so low. You start to massage his swelling bulge now in earnest. It’s getting hard, the space seems filled to capacity, but you imagine that he needs more room, because you’ve only just begun to play.
His legs part now completely, fully allowing your hand to roam and grip and play. You can make out his length as the blood flows into his cock, the head mushrooming at the top. It feels like a nice size, thick like you like them. You grip the shaft, it’s hot. His hips push into your hand.
You’re wet, but there’s no way that you can get at your pussy. What’s more important is there’s no way he can either without lots of work. Oh, you want to feel him in you, whether your mouth or pussy. But that’s going to have to wait. But you want to do something, he’s always messing with you on the phone while you’re working, you want to repay the favor. Maybe . . .
Your fingers find his zipper and quickly yank it down. His leg stops rubbing against your thigh; it’s like he’s frozen.
His thighs part allowing your hand to descend; the material of his jeans is warm, inviting. Your fingernails scratch lightly across the denim. You want so to dive straight to his crotch, but no, he’s got to wait. You flatten your palm and rub. Mmm, so firm. You can feel your loins grow warm as well. You allow your fingers to walk up toward his waist, flatten again and slide over his bulge. He thrusts ever so slightly toward your hand. You smile.
What did your friend say? She’s looking at you as if she’s expecting an answer. You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear. What did you say?”
“I said...” She leans over the table closer. “What are you gonna order?”
You shake your head. Eating is the last thing on your mind, though not necessarily putting something in your mouth. “I might just get a wine, I’m not really hungry. But you go ahead; maybe I’ll nibble at yours.”
She nods and looks back at the menu. You find yourself thankful that the tablecloth hangs so low. You start to massage his swelling bulge now in earnest. It’s getting hard, the space seems filled to capacity, but you imagine that he needs more room, because you’ve only just begun to play.
His legs part now completely, fully allowing your hand to roam and grip and play. You can make out his length as the blood flows into his cock, the head mushrooming at the top. It feels like a nice size, thick like you like them. You grip the shaft, it’s hot. His hips push into your hand.
You’re wet, but there’s no way that you can get at your pussy. What’s more important is there’s no way he can either without lots of work. Oh, you want to feel him in you, whether your mouth or pussy. But that’s going to have to wait. But you want to do something, he’s always messing with you on the phone while you’re working, you want to repay the favor. Maybe . . .
Your fingers find his zipper and quickly yank it down. His leg stops rubbing against your thigh; it’s like he’s frozen.
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Your fingers dig inside his shorts and grab his hot cock, tugging on it, trying to pull it free of the bunched-up material. It pops out and you can travel the length, your fingers circle around its girth. It's pulsing in your hand, his motion still stopped, frozen in place. He has to be wondering what the hell you are up to.
As your friend orders her food, you stroke his cock under the table, your fingers tight around his shaft. You can’t afford lots of motion so you keep your movement short, but tight. He brings both of his hands up on top of the table, one clenched in a fist. His breathing is getting shallower, like it's hard to get a deep breath. Your smile widens. This is perfect. With your friend across the way he can’t acknowledge anything is going on. You keep stroking, his blood engorged cock pulsing in your grip.
When the food arrives both of his hands are clenched in tight fists. His breathing is labored to the extent you think your friend is going to notice any second. Then he pushes his hip forward and tenses his legs. You think you might have heard a low growl in his throat as his cock swells and spits out cum, stream after hot stream. Your hands are wet with his semen, his cock slick with the stuff. You wonder how far he shot. You stroke some more, to make sure he's out of ammo.
You let go and bring your hand out, planning on snatching a couple of fries. As you reach you see a streak of cum running from your thumb to your wrist. You quickly bend and lick it off. Mmm. You grab a fry and enjoy chewing it, tasting the two different salty sensations in your mouth.
A while later, your friends appetite abated, you two get up to go to the ladies' room. As you follow her to the bathroom you see a streak or two of cum on her calves/shins. Once in the bathroom she bends down and examines the spots. She wipes up a little with her finger, shows it to you before putting it into her mouth. “Mmm, got something you wanna tell me?”
You giggle and laugh. “Not really.” You bend down and clean off her leg. “He came a gallon, huh.”
“Apparently.” She laughs too. “Next time if you’re gonna shoot me, the least you could do is let me watch.”
A few minutes later the two of you walk out of the bathroom. He’s sitting at the edge of the booth, money thrown on the table for the bill. You and your friend exchange a look then break into belly laughs as he looks more and more confused with each passing second.
“What?”
As your friend orders her food, you stroke his cock under the table, your fingers tight around his shaft. You can’t afford lots of motion so you keep your movement short, but tight. He brings both of his hands up on top of the table, one clenched in a fist. His breathing is getting shallower, like it's hard to get a deep breath. Your smile widens. This is perfect. With your friend across the way he can’t acknowledge anything is going on. You keep stroking, his blood engorged cock pulsing in your grip.
When the food arrives both of his hands are clenched in tight fists. His breathing is labored to the extent you think your friend is going to notice any second. Then he pushes his hip forward and tenses his legs. You think you might have heard a low growl in his throat as his cock swells and spits out cum, stream after hot stream. Your hands are wet with his semen, his cock slick with the stuff. You wonder how far he shot. You stroke some more, to make sure he's out of ammo.
You let go and bring your hand out, planning on snatching a couple of fries. As you reach you see a streak of cum running from your thumb to your wrist. You quickly bend and lick it off. Mmm. You grab a fry and enjoy chewing it, tasting the two different salty sensations in your mouth.
A while later, your friends appetite abated, you two get up to go to the ladies' room. As you follow her to the bathroom you see a streak or two of cum on her calves/shins. Once in the bathroom she bends down and examines the spots. She wipes up a little with her finger, shows it to you before putting it into her mouth. “Mmm, got something you wanna tell me?”
You giggle and laugh. “Not really.” You bend down and clean off her leg. “He came a gallon, huh.”
“Apparently.” She laughs too. “Next time if you’re gonna shoot me, the least you could do is let me watch.”
A few minutes later the two of you walk out of the bathroom. He’s sitting at the edge of the booth, money thrown on the table for the bill. You and your friend exchange a look then break into belly laughs as he looks more and more confused with each passing second.
“What?”
