Such a Nice Girl

The last time I saw you, you had me splayed out across a dinner table. I had my swollen pussy spread wide for you. You were treating me to the most delicious furious tongue-lashing. I ground my cunt against your face, gnashed my teeth. Every time you felt I was getting too close to climax, you'd pull away, make me whimper.

Do something, don't stop.

You trickled small streams of cool Petite Syrah over my smoldering valley and then drank it from the cup you made with your hand, ingesting your wine infused with my juices. Sometimes you held the offering up to me to take. You didn't let me come yet.

You moved around the table until you were standing next to me. You brought your stiff cock to my lips and guided it into my mouth with one hand while using the other to finger-fuck me and pinch my clit. I sucked, savored, and swallowed your shaft as if it were one of the hors d'oeuvres served in your restaurant. You held my head and synchronized your face- and finger-fucking. I lost my senses and reveled in your penetration. You still didn't let me come.

You pulled from my mouth with a little "pop!" and went to the end of the table. You pulled me to you until my hips were almost off the edge of the table. You cupped my ass with both hands, using your thumbs to spread my cunt lips for you. I was completely exposed: to you, for you, for the taking. Your cockhead hovered ominously at the entrance of my slippery slope for a second that lasted millenia. I thought I might spontaneously combust.

Please. Oh, for chrissakes! Please!

Maintaining a firm hold on my ass, you slammed into my tight box, knocking the wind out of me. I felt your balls pushed up against my ass and upper thighs. You took a breath there, and I felt myself expand slowly in retroactive accomodation. I began spasming, squeezing you with uncontrollable Kegels.

Then, it was on. You bucked into me as hard and as fast as you could while I gasped for air, tried to meet you, match your thrusts. I made to scream out with the intensity, the pleasure rush, the animal baseness of my delirium. You covered my mouth without missing a beat; it was the lunch rush and the main dining room was full. My face reddened with my arrested howl.

You withdrew again, pulled me off the table, bent me back over it. You slapped my ass and pushed my knee up onto the table so that I was more accessible for your assault on my pussy. I whimpered, and gasping, begged you again, pleaded for your cock.

Please. Please fuck me. Please take me. Now.

You plunged your angry rod back into my depths, and pushed my head down as I yelped into the tablecloth I had wadded up to hold on to. You had a hand on my shoulder that you used to direct my steaming streaming cunt back and forth over your hot shaft. You teased my asshole with another finger, making me fuck you harder. I couldn't get you deep into me deeply enough. You finally allowed me to come for you, so arching my back, I threw back my head as I gasped and grunted. I'm a screamer, and you knew making me climax quietly is its own torture.

Finally, when you were ready, you pushed me off of your cock and maneuvered me to my knees in front of you. You held my chin up to look at you while you pumped your load across my chest. I smiled up at you as I massaged your hot cream into my tits, panting. I purred. You tossed me a napkin to clean up with as you zipped up then went to check on business. I let myself out through the back door.

Then, I saw you last night. You came to our table to express your wishes that the recent difficulties we have been experiencing will be over soon. My mother tells you that I have been a great help throughout the drama. You looked at me and smiled. "I'm not surprised. She's such a nice girl."