It was supposed to be dinner to catch up with an old friend. We've been friends for maybe 4 or 5 years...and I never realized how much I avoided the fact that secretly, I always wanted to fuck him. As usual, I was running late. Sometimes I take my dressing ritual way too seriously, and I end up with my fingers in the depths of my own delicious wetness. That is never conducive to timeliness.. I walked into the restaurant, late wet and excited for more than one reason. I saw him sitting at the bar waiting patiently...laughing because he knows that I am always late. I bet he would be suprised if he knew why. We decided to move to a booth and order some food and my usual martini. We started to catch up and midway through a sentence, I felt his warm huge hand squeeze my thigh. Before I could help myself, I slid his hand up to my drenched pussy. Keeping watch and trying to control my breath as he worked my hot, wanton, wet and naughty pussy...wondering if anyone besides the busboy noticed. Not as though I cared... Needless to say, I hurried and picked at my food, anticipating the nights activities would be even more delicious...
Some men stick to schedules. I have been penned in for another visit...next week. Sweet torture. I trust he's keeping me waiting on purpose... |