Tight Skirt – Full Service

He could see her toying with her food as she watched him across the crowded restaurant. The hours dragged on and as the other customers drifted out of the door she stayed, eating desert then three cups of coffee.

By half past midnight he and the staff were putting chairs on tables, cleaning up around her. The kitchens became silent as the chefs finished their cleaning leaving him alone with the red-headed customer in the sharp business suit.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked. “Another coffee.”

“Perhaps …” she crooned. “What’s this?” She pointed at something on the menu.

He leant across her to read the menu and felt her hand slip around the back of his neck. He turned towards her only to have his mouth pressed against hers and feel her tongue invade him. He tried to pull away but was caught off-balance by the suddenness of her advance and because he was leaning over her.

He returned her lingual advances seeking out her mouth.

She pulled away and slapped him hard across the face. “Who’s the customer?” she snapped.

“You are, madam.” He said. “Please accept my apologies.”

She smiled, he knew his place. “Perfect!” she whispered.

She reached out and laid her hand across his groin. He dressed to the right, “Hmmmmm” she groaned when she felt his thick, hardening cock through his black trousers. “Don’t move.” She ordered, the authority in her voice fixing him to the spot. She rubbed his turgid member until it was straining to escape then stopped.

She stood up and pulled up her skirt, wriggling her hips to aid the tight dark blue garments’ progress over her distinctly womanly curves.

She was wearing no knickers, her black hold-up stockings terminating at the top of her thighs in lacy bands then nothing to cover her vulva but a strip of neatly trimmed hair.

He gasped, gulped, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with excitement. He watched her lay back down on the bench seat, spreading her legs and offering him her snatch.

“Eat.” She said.

He dropped to his knees and plunged his tongue into her hot, moist, aromatic depths. She started to groan almost immediately his enthusiasm and determination to reach every part of her wet pussy evident by his energy and inventiveness. The long strokes, the short, soft and hard, swirling, probing, biting sucking.

Her juices flowed without relenting covering his face, dripping from his chin. His tongue settled on her clitoris and worked it with a remorselessness that could have only one conclusion. He felt the lace of her stocking tops rub against his ears, the humidity of her pussy’s issue and then the pressure of her thighs against the sides of his face. She was cumming.

Locked in place he was nothing more than a human sex toy driving his owner to her climax. She let out a long, deep moan and dug her heels into his back when the ultimate moment came, his shriek of pain muffled by the fleshy gag of her mons.

A minute or two passed before she released him.

He stood red faced and breathing hard. She sat up, skirt still around her waist, her juices covering the leather of the seat. Her hand came to rest again on his cock. He was still as hard as before. She unzipped his flies and unbuckled his belt but did not let his trousers fall.

Her hand slipped inside and with his cock still pointing down his leg her fingers worked on his shaft. The discomfort was intense for him, restricted and bent downward in such an awkward position his cock felt like it would snap … yet he knew he would cum, watching her smiling face and feeling her red manicured nails manipulating his hard member.

“Ah, nnggh,ah!” was all he could manage when he shot cum down his thigh and over the inside of his trousers.

She removed her hand, raising it to her mouth and licking her middle and index finger, tasting the viscous fluid on them. She winked, slipped her skirt down and picked up her handbag. She reached inside then dropped five twenty pound notes on the table.

“Same time next week?” She asked.

“I’ll reserve the table for you.”