The Look

I dab my lips with my napkin and I'm instantly transported by the faint smell of your sex on my fingers.

Transported from the table we're sharing in a restaurant crowded with Saturday night diners to the bed we shared before we dressed to leave.

Once again I'm fascinated by the reaction you have on my body. The merest whiff of your tight cunt enough to make me so hard it's uncomfortable to sit at the table without feeling the urge to adjust my throbbing cock.

It's not fair that I should be so uncomfortable. It's not right that I should be the one to suffer for you being a slut earlier, on all fours as I took you hard from behind. My teeth buried in the back of your neck, giving us the appearance of a lion and his lioness rutting, heavy balls swinging between your legs to slap against your lust engorged cunt, fingers entwined in your long hair, pulling your head back so I can whisper in your ear.

Nothing loving about this particular encounter. Both of us filling an overwhelming desire to satisfy ourselves on one another before we go out to eat.

I decide at that moment, just as the waiter hands us the dessert menus and departs that I'm going to make you suffer as I am.

I take my phone from my pocket and apologise to you saying that I need a smoke and I'll be back to my you shortly.

I step outside and drag deep on the cigarette. Not because I need the nicotine hit but because I want to keep my fingers at my nose. Relishing the musky smell on the tips that were buried in you earlier. All the more tantalised by the thought that you didn't have time to shower again before we left and that your knickers are full of your juices and the thick load I deposited into your pussy before we left.

A smirk crosses my lips as a deliciously dirty thought crosses my mind. I type and send a text message and after stubbing out my cigarette I return to the restaurant and my cumfilled lover.

I sit and smile at you, suggesting you should check your texts, knowing you wouldn't have heard the message arrive in the noisy restaurant.

I marvel at the myriad of changes that wash over you as you read what I've sent you. First the deep flush of embarrassment at what I've sent you while we're in public. Knowing that when we're in public you're in modest mode but reminded by how your breathing has changed that lusty you lurks just below the surface no matter where we are.

You begin to stammer I... I.. I.. can't but before you can finish I place a finger on your lips and look deep into your eyes, the look that comes by itself, the one that can never be faked and the one that always lets you know I mean business. I don't need to cajole. I don't need to explain. I just have to look at you and whisper "do it for me".

You nod and wordlessly rise from the table and head for the toilets. I sit there, loving how every male head turns to watch you glide gracefully across the floor, the new dress you're wearing accentuating your curves to perfection.

I sit back and surreptitiously brush against my throbbing cock. Eyelids heavy with lust and my passion growing as I picture you in the stall. Posed exactly as instructed in the text message, back against the door legs spread and dress lifted to you can finger your sodden cunni through your knickers. Pushing the flimsy fabric deeper and deeper into your slick hole before moving to your clit to make yourself come.

After what seems like an eternity but in truth is less than five minutes I watch you return. Your hair has lost it's earlier perfection and there's an almost imperceptible sheen of sweat on your forehead. Instead of immediately sitting you come to me and lean over to kiss my cheek and whisper that you've been a very good girl and done all that I commanded.

I nod, smile and expectantly open my hand, whispering a lust filled whisper that I knew you would as you gently place your creamy knickers into my hand.

I now excuse myself and mirror what you did earlier, masturbating hard with my nostrils completely filled by the stink of your sex, my knees buckling as I orgasm into your knickers. Just about managing the impossible and keeping quiet as I once again empty my balls, this time into your underwear.

I compose myself and return to the table. Sitting there with a smug grin as I watch to you attempt to slip your cum soaked knickers on at the table while all around us people content themselves with the humdrum of their vanilla lives.