It was our wedding anniversary. John had booked us a table at the new Indian restaurant in town, which was getting rave reviews for its food and authentic atmosphere. The anniversary fell on a Monday this year, so the restaurant was quieter than on the other nights of the week. And we had booked for 8.30, because John had been working late and the babysitter couldn’t get to us much earlier. As a result, we had the place to ourselves.
Kamal, the owner, greeted us warmly. Like his staff, he was wearing a black Nehru-style jacket and tight black trousers. Kamal offered to take my coat; his eyes widened when I slipped it off, revealing John’s choice of outfit for the evening. I was in a yellow shimmer mini dress, with a high halter neckline and draped cowl. The figure-hugging, open-backed creation showed off my firm bum and plenty of side boob. With it, I wore gold hooped earrings and a lariat necklace that cascaded down my chest, mirroring the plunge of the cowl and drawing attention to the swell of my full breasts.
Kamal led the way to our table. I noticed the three young waiters almost devouring me with their eyes as I moved across the room, my stilettos clacking on the hard wooden floor. One of them, Dinesh, politely pulled the chair out for me. I smiled my thanks, and positioned myself on the seat, which Dinesh pushed back in, very obviously looking down my cleavage in the process.
The second waiter, Sanjit, brought across the menus. Whilst John ordered some champagne to start the evening, Sanjit’s appraisal of me was equally obvious. “That dress seems to have got their attention,” John murmured, eyes alight with mischief.
“You can’t be serious,” I gasped softly, kicking him under the table, “it’s our wedding anniversary!”
“Well, I couldn’t decide on an anniversary present, but there still is time to come up with something special to mark the occasion,” he grinned wickedly, glancing at Kamal and the other men, who were hovering at the bar, blatantly eyeing me up.
Dinesh returned with the champagne and some bottled water. Pouring some of both for me, he brushed his crotch against my arm. I looked up at him enquiringly, and he flashed me an almost imperceptible look of sexual hunger. John caught the moment and smiled encouragingly, which earned him another kick under the table; albeit not as hard this time, as the idea was growing on me rapidly.
Inching my chair back, I shifted on the seat so that my dress rode up, exposing the intricate lace tops of my sheer black hold-ups. When Sanjit returned to take our order, he also brushed against my arm with his equally impressive crotch. Looking up with big hazel eyes, I asked some questions about the menu, which he answered whilst his eyes ran hungrily over my cleavage, side boobs, and lace-topped thighs. The effect on the young Indian was evident, and also was a real turn-on, which had me pressing my legs together.
By the time Dinesh appeared with the starters, I had inched my dress even higher. Placing the beetroot samosas down in front of me, Dinesh was treated to a glimpse of a black thong with satin panel details on the front and soft sheer mesh on the back, all delicately finished with detailed lace, scalloped edging, and gemstones. The waiter’s eyes were like saucers, and I could see his manhood stirring in his trousers.
“Just so you know, it’s not only the staff you are making hard. And, on the basis it clearly is turning you on, I think I might just help this situation develop”, my husband informed me with a wink.
Calling Kamal across, John explained that he needed to make an urgent phone call, and asked if there was somewhere private he could go to make it. The owner suggested the use of his office, indicating John should follow him there. “Thank you. It should take fifteen minutes or so; will you make sure my wife has all she needs whilst I am gone,” John asked, his voice heavy with meaning.
“Naturally, Sir,” Kamal replied evenly, giving no indication that he had picked up any meaning from my husband’s intonation. However, when he turned and gave an instruction in Hindi to Dinesh, both men grinned conspiratorially.
“Won’t be long, darling,” John said, his face a mask of excitement and anticipation. And with that, he followed Jamal up the stairs, leaving me alone at the table with the three waiters in an otherwise empty restaurant.
Jahan, the third waiter, appeared by my side. His tight black trousers did little to hide an obvious and impressively large bulge. He stared pointedly at my upper thighs, whilst rather unnecessarily pouring some water into my glass. “Could you show me where the ladies’ toilet is, please,” I requested, my eyes resting on his crotch before travelling up to meet his. I could feel the dampness between my legs and my nipples hardening in anticipation of what I hoped was to come in the next few minutes.
“Of course, madam,” he replied with enthusiasm, pulling out my chair, “please follow me.” Leading the way, Jahan turned and said something in Hindi to the others, who nodded, smiling. As I followed him from the dining area, I heard the sound of the front door to the restaurant being locked.
Jahan led the way down a corridor, and into what turned out to be a storeroom, equipped with metal shelving and a single neon strip light. I hesitated in the doorway, only for Dinesh, who had followed with Sanjit, to place a hand on my bum and guide me firmly into the room. “This doesn’t look much like the ladies’ toilet,” I noted, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, madam, you didn’t really want to go to the toilet, did you,” Dinesh observed dryly, lifting the rear of my dress up and exposing my buttocks, “and you don’t look much like a lady to me; more like an English Phūhaṛa who is desperate for some Indian cock.”
“Phūhaṛa?” I asked, my voice low and tense with anticipation. Sanjit nodded, peeling up the front of my dress, so that it rucked around my waist. Dinesh simultaneously was unclipping the fastening on the halter neck, letting the top fall away to reveal my full breasts.
The three waiters were pressed against me, dark eyes full of lust. A brown hand pushed down between my legs, groping me. More hands roamed over my pale body, massaging my boobs and bum; the men taking turns to paw me, whilst removing their trousers and budgie-smuggler underpants.
“It means slut,” Sanjit growled, his hand pushing into the front of my lace thong; exploring my puffy labia, and sliding home to the knuckle. I moaned at his touch, and at the brown hands that were kneading my full boobs, teasing my large dark and hardened nipples, and pressing roughly into the soft pale flesh.
Eyes closed and lips parted, I leant back against Jahan’s chest. As I did so, I felt his hands part my buttocks, and then one of his fingers push through my sphincter. I let out a small cry when he added a second finger to the first. “Seems the white bitch wants this, Yaar,” Sanjit grinned at Jahan, as they toyed with both my holes with their fingers; my chest rising and falling, and a series of low moans escaping from my red-painted lips.
I became aware that Kamal had joined the others, having left John to make his phone call in the office. He too removed his trousers and pants, revealing a large and very hard member, which bounced as he advanced on me. Indicating to Jahan and Sanjit, who dutifully removed their fingers from me, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed me down to the floor.
Squatting on my heels, I looked up to see the men crowd around me in a semi-circle. Kamal moved forward slightly and slapped my face with his cock, before presenting it to me with a smirk. Pushing his length up with a small white hand, I ran the tip of my tongue across his dark hairy balls and up the underside of his impressive length. “Whore,” Kamal groaned, hard eyes looking down at me, whilst I wrapped delicate fingers around the shaft.
Stroking Kamal slowly, I turned to look at Dinesh, who was to his left. Lowering my lips to the spongy head of the young waiter’s dick, I swirled my tongue around it and then took him into my mouth, bobbing up and down on him in time with my hand’s movements on Kamal.
Releasing Dinesh, and still stroking Kamal, I looked to my right. At the same time, I dropped my free hand between my thighs and began to run a finger along the swollen pussy lips. Jahan pressed forward, offering his massive length to me. Parting my lips once again, I dropped my head onto the glans, before burying my face onto his crotch. Slowly I drew back, before easing his full length in and out of my welcoming mouth.