Don't Forget to Tip Your Waiter

I should have been more suspicious when the waiter looked at me that way. You know the way I'm talking about...eyes lingering a little too long on my chest, then glancing down to my long legs and back up. I mean, I realize I was dressed pretty provocatively. I was wearing a form-fitting ribbed knit sweater and no bra. My long, wavy brown hair cascaded down just enough not to hide the contours of my pert little boobs through the knit. I was also wearing a short little Tartan skirt and heels that accentuated my legs-for-days. I knew I looked good - what man wouldn't stare? But I had no idea he would have the audacity to take it further.

I didn't mention anything to my wife at the time, who was dressed more conservatively in a sport coat and slacks because she had met me at the restaurant after work. My wife and I have been married a long time and have a very close, loving relationship. We're each others' best friends, and are comfortable and happy around each other. But I admit, I sometimes fantasize about a man desiring me...and using me. I was getting a secret thrill from the steamy looks and smiles every time the waiter would come to our table. It was an exciting - and I thought harmless - flirtation. One time when my wife was distracted looking at her work cell phone, he very pointedly brushed his beefy arm against mine while he was refilling my wine glass. The subtle waft of musky cologne as he brushed up to me gave me a pleasant little lady-boner twinge. I started to imagine what else he smelled like.

Eventually we were at the point in our meal when the dessert menus were on the table and my wife and I were considering whether we really needed creme brulee, when I said, "While you think it over, I'm going to go to the ladies room." I had to stride over towards a hallway at the back of the restaurant to find the bathrooms, and apparently the kitchen door was in the same hallway, because as I turned the corner, Beefy stepped out and I bumped right into him! "Oh, sorry!" we both said at the same time. Then when he realized it was me, he smiled and added, "Well, not that sorry." I blushed, and to try to break the tension, I said, "Could you tell me where the bathrooms are?"

"Sure," he said, pointing, "they're right at the end of this hall."

"Thanks," I said a little shyly, and turned to walk in that direction. I couldn't help myself, I glanced back, and he was still standing there, staring at me as I walked away. I just smiled and kept going.

I finished my business in the bathroom and had just washed and dried my hands, when the door of the ladies room opened and closed. In retrospect, I guess I shouldn't have been shocked that it was our dreamy waiter who had entered the room - but, again, how could I possibly imagine that something like this would happen in real life? He didn't waste any time - he pulled me against him and started kissing me, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I struggled weakly to push away, but wow it felt good. He ran his hands under my sweater and I could feel his warm palms and thumbs swirling over my nipples. I whimpered into his mouth - I loved having my nipples squeezed and played with. "Oh, yeah, you love it," he said lowly and huskily into my ear, "you love being used, you dirty little whore." As he said this he took my hand and rubbed it over the bulging crotch of his pants. I moaned again and started rubbing him harder of my own accord.

He half walked me, half carried me back into one of the bathroom stalls. "I have a surprise for you," he said. And I was surprised when he left my stall and went into the one next to it. He tapped on the wall down low and said, "look down." A panel opened up in the wall of the stall, a little 'door' I hadn't noticed before. Once I saw this I knew what the game was. I've watched enough glory hole porn to know what happens in these situations. A jingling of a belt and a rustling of fabric, and a big, hard dick and nice pair of balls poked through the opening.

I squatted down so I was face-level with the dick. I took it in one hand, and stroked it up and down, over the balls and up the shaft again, just savoring the soft, velvety skin. "Mmmm, yeah, suck it," he breathed. "I bet you're a good little cock-sucker." There's nothing more erotic to me than having a man reduced to nothing but a throbbing cock, not having to think about anything else but teasing and pleasuring this errogenous thing. This is basically what all men are to me - moving, talking dildos.

Still stroking with my hand, I ran my tongue up the underside of the cock and over the cleft of the tip. It smelled strangely good. I loved feeling him squirm and hearing him breathe noisily in approval. I started licking more enthusiastically. Before I knew it, I hungrily pushed my mouth over the top half, feeling the tip pop in past my lips. Deep moaning from the other side of the wall. Beefy was really getting into it now. He was unconsciously thrusting his hips against the wall, trying to force more of his dick into my mouth. I teased him some more, pulling my head back so just his tip was popping in and out of my mouth, then with no warning I plunged forward, taking the entire thing in, all the way to the base. "Uuuugh!" I could tell he could barely stand it, and I was getting really hot myself. I used one hand to rub my left breast, while my right hand snaked down into my panties and started rubbing my clit. I was sucking him up and down hungrily - it was so satisfying feeling that big cock in my mouth. His breathing got all raspy and he slammed his hand against the tin wall with a loud 'fwump!', and I felt warm cum shooting against the back of my throat. Oh, so hot! I swallowed what I could and continued to push my mouth up and down over his dripping cock, rubbing my clit faster as I did. I had to let the cock pop out of my mouth when I cried out in ecstasy as I pushed myself over the edge.

I stayed kneeling on the floor for several more seconds, flushed and panting, with one hand pressed against the wall of the booth. Without a word, the dick disappeared from the opening in the wall and the little door banged shut. Another soft rustle of cloth and jingling of belt buckle, then the sound of a stall door opening, footsteps across the bathroom floor, the brief swell of chattering and clinking glasses as the bathroom door swung open and closed, and I knew he had left.

I pulled my hand out of my panties and shakily reached toward my face, unceremoniously wiping a trickle of watery cum from the corner of my mouth and wiping it on my leg. I replayed the moment in my mind when he was at his peak, moaning and clawing at the wall, and I pulsed and breathed out contentedly at the hot memory. My thoughts fuzzily shifted back to reality with the jarring realization that I had left my wife waiting at our table! How long had I been in here letting him use my mouth like a toy? I ignored my aching knees as I pulled myself up. I opened the stall door a crack and peeked out - no one else in sight. I hurriedly washed my hands, dabbed my smeared lipstick as best I could with a damp paper towel, and ran wet hands through my disheveled hair to smooth it out. With a deep breath and squaring of shoulders, I walked out of the ladies room and back down the hall towards the table.

My wife was at her seat where I had left her, her wine glass almost empty, finishing a message on her cell phone. She glanced up when I sat down. "I decided to pass on dessert and asked for the check," she said, seemingly oblivious to my ruined state. My heart beat a little faster when the waiter walked up with the bill and set it on the table. Amazingly he looked just as handsome and put-together as before our fun. Has he had practice? He gave me a sly smile and a wink, then disappeared to the kitchen. My wife picked up the slip of receipt paper. "I think we should give our server a good tip. He was friendly...and pretty cute, too," she said with a mischievous grin.

I laughed tiredly, "Oh, I think he already got a pretty good one." Her eyebrows raised questioningly. "And I have the best story to tell you when we get home!"