tagMatureA Box Lunch

A Box Lunch


A Box Lunch

I guess the premise of finding love over a box lunch is pretty far-fetched, especially if you consider our difference in ages. Certainly, the thought of a love between a sixty year old man and a nineteen year old woman, would be difficult to believe, but considering it all developed from a shared box lunch has to stagger the imagination. Of course, as all love must do, our affair ended tragically, but in spite of it all, we had our moments, Kieko and I had our moments.

It began over lunch, or more correctly, it began over my lunch. The distinction is important because I ate and she... she... well she performed. Not really performed, she basically sat motionless, but in doing so, she basically performed.

Let me explain if I can. I have lived alone for many years now, my wife left me for another man. There might have been a poetic justice in it all if she left me for a younger man, but he was older, much older than I, older and richer. Anyway, over the years, my friends had tried to fix me up with other women. Nothing came of their efforts because I was far too stubborn to even try to “date.” Finally, one of my darker friends took me to lunch.

He took me to a very discreet inn, where only distinguished, mature gentlemen were allowed entry, in fact, my friend and I, in our early sixties, were the youngest men to come inside. We were greeted in the lobby by an aged husband and wife dressed in formal kimonos, hers was adorned with a bright obi, while he wore a woven sash. My friend introduced me, affirming his sponsorship of my membership.

The old lady then led us into the “dining area,” a room intricately divided by finely carved ebony dividing screens with a small table in each cubicle. We arrived at my table first, but to my surprise, instead of a short table where I would kneel to eat, the table was tall, with a black lacquered chair in front of it. The table itself was two tiered, the lower tier by the chair was about twelve inches deep, the upper tier, rose only about ten to twelve centimeters.

“They have a menu, but for your first visit, just have them bring the ‘Gentleman’s Special,’” my friend said to me as the old woman walked toward another cubicle.

“But, what is it?”

“All they have here are box lunches, but they are special. Start with the ‘Gentleman’s Special,’ that’s what I did my first time,” he said before turning and walking to his cubicle.

I sat down at the chair and slid it closer to the table. I waited for just a few moments when the young waitress appeared. She had short black hair cut to fall back off her face, emphasizing her strong cheekbones. Dark brown eyes were shadowed with a green tint makeup that matched some of the coloring in the yukata robe she wore.

“Would you like a menu?” she asked me.

“I would just like the ‘Gentleman’s Special,’” I replied.

She smiled, bowed her head and then left. I wondered why she would wear the yukata robe instead of a kimono like the old lady, or the less formal yukata. The white robe with dark green circles was sleepwear and I didn’t understand why she wore that, considering the formal attire of the old woman.

The young woman returned, placed a small cup in front of me and poured some tea from a small pot. She delicately placed the pot near the end of the table, well away from me. Placing a small pot of soy sauce in front of me, she then handed me chopsticks, bowed slightly and then left again.

I ran my fingers over the smooth chopsticks intrigued by the waitress’s strange attire and table setting. Sipping the tea, I looked over at the teapot, wondering why she would place it so far away from me.

She returned with the box lunch and placed it in front of me. She opened the strange top, neatly folding it back, placing it flat on the upper tier of the table in front of me. Looking at the box, it was intricately hinged so it fit the tiers perfectly. The top was oddly shaped, with and elegant curve that reminded me of...

To my left, I noticed the waitress and when I turned my head, I saw her gracefully remove her yukata robe, fold it and drop it to the floor. Naked now, she walked to the other side of the table and climbed up some steps I had not noticed before.

My eyes locked on her small breasts as they bounced slightly with each step, the dark nipples, already hard, swayed slightly with the movement. Looking downward, my eyes followed her smooth stomach, past her navel to the thick, dark triangle of hair. Luxuriant curls seemed to glisten in the light, hinting a promise of the moist delights below.

Stepping up onto the table, she moved her feet onto each side of the box lunch and then she sat down, her ass conforming to the curved top of the box. She moved her feet down onto the lower tier of the table, so her knees stuck up to about my head level. Looking forward, I saw several pieces of sushi and sashimi, a bit of rice and some salad in the different compartments of the box. Centimeters above the food, were the magnificent, flowing curves of her pussy.

Leaning my head forward, I breathed in, catching the faint hint of her fragrance, complimenting the scents of the fresh fish. Taking the chopsticks, I reached for some salad, letting my hand brush against her thigh. Her skin was smooth against my hand, but underneath I felt her taut muscles and imagined those thighs wrapped around my head.

Feeling a stirring in my crotch I had not felt in a long time, I quickly ate the salad, letting the sweet taste of the peanut dressing, mix with the earthy scent from her swollen lips. Moving my gaze from her beautiful cunt I looked up at her face, seeing her as she watched me. Her eyes were slightly veiled in hair, that now fell forward, but they seemed to watch me with intensity.

I looked back to the box and picked up a small piece of the giant clam, its faint red curve matching the tempting curve of her pussy lips. Holding the clam in my chopsticks I held it against her, letting its firm shape mold her more pliable lips to match its shape exactly. Touching her lips, I let the morsel draw a bit of the moisture from her skin before tenderly placing it in my mouth.

Her flavor was strong compared to the delicate taste of the clam, adding a pungent saltiness. I leaned my head on her thigh and savored her spice.

“Does the ‘Gentleman’s Special’ let me taste that clam?” I asked, letting the smooth end of my chopstick slip slightly inside her.

“No, not the ‘Gentleman’s Special.’”

“What does it include… besides the sushi, sashimi, rice and salad?”

“The tea,” she replied, running a finger down over her nipple.

“And that is all?”

“Well,” she whispered, “for very fine gentlemen, those who are polite, I am permitted to... to touch myself.”

“May I touch?”

“You may touch yourself, but not me, not on the ‘Gentleman’s Special. Most of the men here will touch themselves, but... how do I say this? Most only touch and remember the firmness of their youth.”

Nodding I replied, “Yes the firmness of youth and yet,” I stood, proudly displaying the long lost bulge in my pants.

She looked down and then, peeking back up through her short strands of hair she got a stern look on her face and whispered, “Your firmness inspires me.”

Her hands immediately went to her beautiful pussy, dipping into her opening and then withdrawing, sparkling in her juices. Moving them up to my mouth, she let me taste them before moving them to her clit. I unzipped my pants and pulled out my nearly erect cock. Sitting down, I began stroking myself as I watched her manipulate her clit, circling the pink nub slowly and deliberately.

Leaning my head back onto her thigh, I stroked my cock as she moved her fingers, first circling her clit, then dipping into her cunt for lubrication and then returning to her clit. Seeing her tiny fingers slide down her pink cleft, disappearing into her most tantalizing folds and then emerging, wet and sparkling, to slide back up to her clit soon had me feeling a rising wave of pleasure.

“Oh, will you come?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Here, don’t spill on your pants,” she said urgently, handing me a cloth.

“I... I come for you now,” she gasped, raising her ass off the box lid, lifting her pussy closer and closer to my face.

I moved my head forward, feeling her wet lips move over my face as I held the cloth, catching the white cum that spurted from me. Her wet warmth coated my face as she moved herself from side to side, drawing her pussy over my mouth and nose. Rubbing my softening cock, I milked the last drops of come onto the cloth as she calmed and eased back down onto the box lunch lid.

I handed her the cloth decorated with the little pool of cum I had proudly spurt in her honor. Taking the cloth, she smiled and whispered, “None of the others give me this gift, not even when I touch them. Most don’t even get firm.”

“Not even for you?”

Frowning, she shook her head no.

“I don’t get firm for most women, not for many years. You made me firm.”

Her lips curled up into a smile. “Will you come back for another box lunch?”

“Yes, if I can have you.”

“You must ask for me, I am Keiko.”

“Keiko, a beautiful name, I am Natsume’,” I said, leaning forward in a bow, finding my face near her pussy again. Taking a deep breath of her scent, I rose and smiled at her. “Your fragrance captivates me.”

She smiled, coyly tilting her head and... and, yes blushing.

“What should I order next time? I want more than the ‘Gentleman’s Special.’”

“Ah, ask for the ‘Katsura Box,’ we can then taste of each other,” she answered. “Sadly now, I must get dressed again.”

I sat back in my chair and watched her tight ass as she stood up, turned and sensuously walked down the small steps at the back of the table. Walking to her robe, she bent, picked it up and languidly pulled it on, folding the right side of the yukata over her breasts and then following with the left. She then moved the dishes and teapot onto a side table, bowed to me and with a final yearning glance back at me, she left.

I adjusted my clothes, returned to the lobby, where I paid the old lady and then stepped outside. My friend called from the other side of the garden, “Natsume’ did you enjoy lunch.”

“Very much Mat, very much.”

In the ride back home I fell asleep, thinking of Keiko.

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